this.

'My auntie gave a heavy groan when she heard

"And are you perfectly sure that this very same coach will gang back to Glasgow the morn?' says my poor auntie.

"Quite sure,' says the landleddy; 'it'll leave at nine precisely; so come away, my woman, and never fear, for I'll look after you mysell.'

"I'm muckle obleeged to you, mem,' says my Auntie Kirsty, after thinking a minute, but I canna do 't.'

"But you canna get back to Glasgow the night; it's no possible. You maun come down!' says the landleddy.

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"'You maun just excuse me, mem,' says my auntie, very ceevily.

"But the coach is gaun into the yard!' says the landleddy.

"It's a' ane' (all the same), says my auntie, who was determined that nothing should separate her from the coach.

"But you canna mean to sit there a' night?' says the landleddy, in wonder.

"Weel-a-wat! I mean it,' says my auntie; 'I ken weel enough,' she says, 'that if I leave the coach, I'll be put into some other ane the morn, and whomled (rolled) farther awa yet from hame that I was such a fule as to leave; sae where the coach gangs, I'll gang.'

"And at that there was a great roar from the crowd that were standing round the coach and listening; and even the landleddy herself couldna help laughing at my auntie's simplicity.

I'll take care of you, and put you into the right coach mysell,' says she, very kindly, after composing

herself.

"I'm obleeged to you mony times ower, mem, and mony times to that, for your civeelity,' says my auntie; but there's something no chancy about this travelling, and I've just been out o' one trouble into another since ever I began it; so, though my backbane's like to break with sitting here, and my legs feel mair as if they were made o' cast iron than o' flesh and blood, here I sit till the morn. I'm willing enough,' says my auntie, with some decent pride, to pay for the liberty, for I'm no without siller to meet my charges; and I have 'sponsible freends both in Glasgow and Boulder that will let nobody lose by me.'

"It was lost time either reasoning with or laughing at her. Her ignorance of town ways was too great, and her fears were far stronger than her sense of shame. Lose sight of the coach she wouldna-it was her only hope of getting back to her friends; so there she sat determinedly on the top of it, while the landlord and landleddy conferred together by the inn door.

"And a bonnielike thing it was,' she used aye to say, 'to see me, a decent man's daughter, and ane

with a character to uphold, raised up abune the folks' heads like the thing I had seen in Glasgow, and a whole crowd o' idle senseless folk gecking (mocking) and glowering at me as if I had been a show. But for a' that they couldna get me off the coach till they had promised to let me sit as long as I liked in the inside. And then it was an awfu' job to accomplish, my banes being sae stiff and sair with the long sitting and the weary shoogling (shaking). Ane would have thought,' said my Auntie Kirsty, who could never forgive the Edinburgh folk for the sport they made of her, that they would never have done with the rowting (roaring) and hullaballooing they made when they saw me creep down the ladder and the landleddy oxter (elbow) me into the inside, which was a cosey place, for I had baith a cod (cushion) at my back and ane to sit on. They got up with another skirl as the inn servants ran the coach with me in't through a big archway into a great back yard; but once there I was out o' the way o' the crowd, though I had still to bide the jeering o' the ostlers and such like. But the landleddy was very ceevil and considerate, I maun say, for she brought me baith tea and meat, and listened to a' my story.'

"And so my poor Auntie Kirsty was shut up in the coach in the White Hart stable-yard, among the gigs and shandry-dans, postshays and horses, and forlorn and miserable enough, you may be sure, she felt.

"What would they say at hame if they but kent where I am?' says she to herself when she was at last left alone, and the tears came into her een at the thought; but if it's my luck to win back to Glasgow, winna I gie it to Rabby McCorkindale.'

"At first she was very troubled with folk coming out of the inn to look at her, but once their curiosity was satisfied she was left in peace. The landleddy, no doubt, saw through my auntie's character, for being about an inn must give one a deal of insight into human nature. She tried again to persuade her to come into the house, but failing in it, she just let her take her own way; and it was truly a mercy that my Auntie Kirsty fell into such Christian hands. She brought her a large plaid to wrap about her for fear she might be cold in the night; and, at my auntie's request, a Bible, that being the only suitable reading, she considered, in her distressing circumstances. So my auntie sat and read, till the gloaming coming on she could no more see to make out the words. She was very weary and sleepy, and would fain have taken a nap, but she was frightened to sleep in such a strange place, for though the landleddy was doubtless a most respectable person, my auntie couldna tell what kind of folk there might be about a great inn like that. She tried to shake drowsiness off her by nipping her arms, and cracking the joints of her fingers. At last, in her extremity, she had recourse to her prayers, and passed the time sometimes in that way, and sometimes in looking from the coach windows to see if all was safe about her.

"It was late before the yard was locked up for the night, for the White Hart Inn had much to do with posting. Lights streamed from the windows of the inn till late in the night, but at last everything was quiet, and my auntie sat her leesome lane (lonely self) in the yard.

"And a lang weary night it was,' she used to say. 'I tried my best to keep from sleeping, no kenning what calamity might befall me in the middle o' a nap, but I couldna aye keep my een open.

"Eh, sirs!' cried one of the lassies, who was standing at the house-door after the milking; if there isna the mistress hersell coming up the road.' “And in another minute every soul about the place-even John himself, who had been taking a nap as usual in the big chair-was out in the yard wondering to see her home so soon.

"You may be thankful to see me,' quo my auntie, 'for I have been in mony tribulations since we parted.'

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Eh, sirs! what has happened to you; and whaur have you been?' cried everybody.

"I have been among thieving Philistines in Glasgow, and mocking Ishmaelites in Edinburgh,' said my auntie.

"But what in a' the world took you to Edinburgh, Kirsty?' says John.

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"A coach took me, John, man, and I never left the coach till it brought me back again,' said my auntie, who had a spice of fun in her, and was feeling light-hearted at being home. 'As to what was the cause of my ganging there, you can speer at Rabby McCorkindale the first time you see him.'

"I canna understand it,' says John; 'it's like Samson's riddle, I think.'

"Ye should have gane and seen Lunnon too, whaur the king and queen bide, when ye were on the travel, mistress,' says the younger of the servant

Nae doubt,' said Jamie; and yet you may walk from this door to London, and no cross any water wider than the Tweed.'

"D'ye say sae, lad?' cried both the lassies. "But where's your bundle with a' your things, that I put up for ye last Saturday night?' says her cousin, wondering to see her empty-handed.

"Where last year's snow is, for aught I ken,' said my auntie.

"And she would give them no more information till she had gone into the house and rested herself a blink in John's chair. A weary woman she truly was. 'It was waur,' she said, than a long day's darg at the kirn.’

"But when she told her story, wasna there a raising o' een and hands among them! And they declared that towns must be awful places for wickedness, and wondered how her friends could bear to stay in one. Yet Jamie thought that seeing such a grand historical place as the Grassmarket of Edinburgh was worth all the trouble and distress that my Auntie Kirsty had been put to; and of course his fellow-servants agreed with him.

"And wasna my auntie fain that night when she lay down in her own bed after all her troubles! And wasna she thankful next morning-a sweet, calm Sabbath one-on wakening to see the grass shining with gowans and glistening with dew from her window! I trow she thought it the pleasantest sight

she ever saw.

"Well, Mr. Matthew, from that day to the day

she died-and she lived to be a very old woman-my Auntie Kirsty never left the farm except to go to the kirk. She had such a dread of travelling that nothing would persuade her to go even the length of Yoker. Many a time would we young folk get her to tell us the story, which she aye did in almost the same words; till from hearing it often I got it at last by heart, and could tell it just as well as herself. And she used aye to finish with warning us of the dangers and iniquities of cities, holding up the innocence and pleasures of a country life in comparison. And, weel-a-wat, Mr. Matthew, from all that I have seen of towns-and I have been between thirty and forty years in one-I dinna think she was far wrong."

GIGANTIC CUTTLE-FISHES.

BY PRINCIPAL DAWSON, MONTREAL.

THAT cuttle-fishes, squids, or "devil fishes " of gigantic size inhabit the ocean, has long been a belief of seamen, who are in the habit of saying that the squid, small and feeble though it seems, is the "greatest fish that swims the sea." From the days of old Pontoppidan's kraken, to the monster depicted by Victor Hugo in his "Toilers of the Sea," the story of these creatures has floated in literature, and from time to time voyagers have brought home accounts of encounters with huge creatures of this kind. Specimens, indicative at least of their existence, have from time to time come under the notice of naturalists; and Stenstrup, March, and Altman have described portions of their bodies cast ashore on the coasts of Denmark and Scotland. Still they have appeared to be rather mythical and doubtful creatures, almost on a level with the celebrated seaserpent, to which a writer in the "Daily News" likens them. Recently, however, through the vigilance of the Rev. M. Harvey, of St. John's, Newfoundland, trustworthy information has been obtained as to their occurrence and habits on the coast of that island, and specimens have been procured which are now in the hands of Professor Verrill, of Yale College, to whom has been committed the scientific examination and description of the material obtained.

Mr. Harvey's first specimens were obtained in the singular manner detailed in the following extract of a letter communicated, with photographs of the specimens, by Dr. Dawson, to the Natural History Society of Montreal, and published in the "Montreal Gazette:"

"St. John's, Newfoundland, Nov. 12, 1873. "My dear Doctor,-I take the liberty of bringing under your notice some account of a gigantic cuttlefish which was seen a few days ago in Conception Bay. The circumstances under which it was seen were as follows: Two fishermen were out in a small punt, on October 26th, off Portugal Cove, Conception Bay, about nine miles from St. John's. Observing some object floating on the water at a short distance, they rowed towards it, supposing it to be a large sail or the debris of a wreck. On reaching it, one of the men struck it with his gaff,' when immediately it showed signs of life, reared a parrot-like beak, which they declare was as big as a six gallon keg,' with which it struck the bottom of the boat violently. It then shot out from about its head two huge livid arms and began to

Among the names of coaches which still cling to my memory, were many historic, many poetic, many descriptive, and not a few personal; many were extremely appropriate, others not so apparently so. Some of these, now that stage coaches are things almost of the past, are well worth noting.

In the early days when coaches were few they needed no name to distinguish them one from another. Whether 66 Caravans," "Diligences," "Balloon coaches," "Long coaches," "Flys," "Fly vans," "Flying machines on steel springs," or "Flying coaches," they required only this description, without any distinctive name, to be known by. The "Caravan" of course became the father of vans innumerable; the "Fly vans," which made a flying journey of eighty miles in four days, wind and weather permitting, the parent of the "Flying machines and flying coaches," and the "Diligence that of the "Derby Dilly," and all other dillies on record.

Good, useful, respectable, and characteristic names were the "Good Intent," the "Accommodation," and "Accommodator," the "Reliance," the "Regulator," and the "Clockwork." These were coaches whose very names were guarantees of stability and punctuality. Different indeed from these were the Spitfire" and "Vixen," which at one time ran in opposition to each other over a north road. Another very common name was the "Defiance," defying any other to enter into competition with it for celerity and punctuality; and almost a match for this was the Fearless," which was ready to meet and overcome all opponents. As a medium between these two came in the "Live and let live," running on the broad, the human principle, of "There's room enough for all;" and the "Give and Take," which opposed no one, but went on in the even tenor of its way, picking up a living for itself, but doing nothing to hinder others from doing the same. The "Independent," and the "Hope," and the "Endeavour" were also good, substantial, well-meaning names, and such as would encourage steady, middle-aged travellers to give them their support.

Far different from these was another class of names-"fast" names, which would suit the fast young men of those days and gain their patronage such as the "Lightning," "Rapid," "Quicksilver," "Telegraph," "Express," "Witch," "Red Rover," ," "Red Rover," and Rover," whether red or any other colour. These conveyed the idea of swiftness, but another combined that of safety with it-the "Swiftsure "while another (the "Safety ") belonged to the same class.

Lane, at the same hour for the same journey. Hundreds of times have I seen these two coaches more than a hundred and thirty miles from London close on each other's heels, and scarcely even three minutes apart! It was a matter of rivalry which should take and maintain the lead; and if a stoppage had to be made to take up or set down a passenger, moments were of consequence, and the whip cracked, and the horses flew to make up the loss and regain their place. But this was not opposition, it was simply emulation. Not so, however, was it with other personallynamed coaches I have known. Thus was the "Lord Nelson," for instance, a good, respectable, quiet, steady-going old coach, against whom a rival was set up in no less a personage than-not Lady Hamilton, for she would never have opposed him-but "Lady Nelson!" Then came another of his titles, the "Duke of Bronte," and after that the "Trafalgar; and these, of the race of Nelson, used to race with each other to the peril of life and limb, swinging round corners at terrific speed, darting madly down precipitous hills, and swaying and surging from side to side along even and uneven ground. Then there were "Prince of Waleses" (when George the Fourth was Prince), Rodneys," "Queens,' "Cornwallises," "Granbys," "Dukes of Wellington," and other notables in abundance.

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Argus, ," with his hundred eyes to see passengers and parcels on every side, was a favourite name, and not inappropriate; and then there were "Stars," "Pearls," Gems," Diamonds," and "Rubies scouring the country in every direction, while "Balloons and "Dragons " carried one hither and thither.

The "Eclipse," which was to eclipse all other coaches, and the "Peerless," which owned no peer, were more poetical than unassuming in their application. One more may be added, and that owes its origin to the time when projected railways threatened the destruction of the stagers-a destruction which has been as rapid as it has complete. This was the "Steam Horse," a name intended to imply that the coach which bore it was capable of vieing in swiftness with its locomotive rival.

May-day decorations of those "good old coaching days" were another feature pleasant to recall. On that day-to say nothing of the metropolitan mail coach procession, on which a pleasant chapter may yet be written-the stage coaches made their great display. Generally they were newly painted for that time, and came out in all the fresh brilliance of redand yellow, blue and green, and unsullied gilding. Generally, too, the horses had new sets of bright brown harness-not black as now-a-days-for the occasion, and invariably were gaily decorated with flowers and ribbons and bows and rosettes.

The

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A very favourite coach in my days was the "Peveril of the Peak "-one of the most punctual and best-appointed of machines. Well horsed, well managed, well driven, and beautifully painted, it ran with precision daily from the Blossoms Inn, Lawrence Lane, London, to Manchester, and generally took and kept the lead of its rival, the "Royal Bruce," which left the Swan with Two Necks, Lad

and white breeches, with top-boots and white hats. The coachman had his whipstock tied in bows of ribbons and bunches of flowers, and wore a large bouquet on his breast. The guard's bugle-horn was similarly decorated; the coach had festoons of flowers and evergreens hanging down its sides, and over the luggage on the roof arches of a similar kind were fixed. The horses, which seemed to enter into the spirit and enjoyment of the day as well and as much as their masters, had besides their new harness white saddle-cloths, often tastily embroidered by loving hands, and made as gay and showy as possible, and arches of flowers over each separate head.