who were required to profess beforehand the number of Greek works in which they were willing to be examined. Accordingly Mr. Ramsay entered the Fore Hall, at the head of a string of porters, with barrows laden with ponderous volumes-a whole Greek library in short. "There," he cried triumphantly, pointing to the tremendous pile, or series of piles, “I profess all these!" The learned examiners were astonished at the presence of so much knowledge, as they well might be, for the "profession" comprised three-fourths of the Grecian literature. This surprise had hardly time to cool when Mr. Lushington appeared without a porter or even a book. The examiners immediately said, “Well, Mr. Lushington, you see what your rival professes; what do you profess?" The learned Grecian gave a contemptuous glance at the heap of books, and replied with a look of ineffable scorn at his confounded rival, “I profess the literature of Greece." This was too much for poor Mr. Ramsay, who gave in on the spot. The origin of the story is doubtless Professor Lushington's immense reputation for scholarship. We students used to say that, while other professors spoke Greek, Lushington thought it.

But other memories besides those of the College crowd upon us. The following, however, relating as it does to the noble house of Argyll, may serve as a specimen of its fellows::

In 1756 Mr. Fleming, wood merchant, purchased a large quantity of timber growing on the banks of the Holy Loch, and he occasionally repaired to Kilmun to look after the cutting down of the timber. The accommodation at the hamlet was so miserable that Mr. Fleming was induced to get a temporary bed put up in the burial vault of the Dukes of Argyll, and there to sleep surrounded by the coffins of departed dukes and duchesses. While occupying this dark and dingy "bedroom," he on one occasion stepped out rather early on a fine Sunday morning in his white night-shirt; and while indulging in stretching himself and giving a loud yawn, he was perceived by some sailors, who were loitering near the tomb waiting for a tide to carry off their small craft. The superstitious mariners, appalled by the apparition issuing from the charnel house, instantly took to their heels and, hurrying into their boat, set off to Greenock, where they gave such a connected and circumstantial account of the resurrection of one of the Dukes of Argyll as to induce the authorities to make a formal inquiry into the circum

stances.

Glasgow is proud, and deservedly proud, of the position which its citizens have achieved for it by their energy and industry, as the first mercantile city north of the Tweed and their pride very naturally extends to the ancient Trades Hall, or Merchants' Hall, which among them answers more or less exactly to our own Guildhall. We learn from Dr. Campbell's work that it still remains very much in its ancient condition, and exhibits two pieces of sculpture, the one consisting of three portraits of old and worthy citizen merchants, and the other a beautiful model of a ship in full sail, both clearly of the sixteenth century.

With respect to the civic arms of Glasgow-of which two representations are given on the opposite page a twofold tale is told.

SCULPTURE IN THE TRADES HALL, GLASGOW.

One version makes out that the Queen of Cadzow was suspected by her husband, King Roderick, of being too intimate with a knigh: whom he had asked to hunt with him. The King waited his opportunity to

H

abstract from the satchel of the knight, when asleep, a ring, which Queen Cadzow had presented to him. King Roderick in furious jealousy threw it into the Clyde. When they returned to the Palace at Cadzow after the day's hunting, the King, in the course of the evening, asked the Queen where the ring was. It could not be produced; and death was threatened if it were not forthcoming. The Queen sent one of her maids to the knight for the unfortunate ring; and being unsuccessful, a bearer was sent to Cathures (Glasgow) to St. Mungo, making a full confession of the entire affair.

The Apostle of Strathclyde commiserated the Queen. Forthwith he sent one of his monks to the river to angle, instructing him to bring home alive the first fish he should take. This was done. St. Mungo ("dear friend") found the annulet in the mouth of the miraculous fish, and speedily sent it to the Queen, who restored it to her husband, and thereby saved her life.

The other version of the miracle, albeit perhaps not quite so poetically told, is thus given by Dr. Gordon, on the authority of Archbishop Spottiswoode's "History of the Church of Scotland":

A lady, of good reputation in the country, having lost a ring which had been given her as a present from her husband, upon that, growing jealous, as if she had bestowed it upon a gallant, he was uneasy to his lady; whereupon she applied to St. Mungo, and implored his help, for the safety of her honour, and to preserve her innocency against the resentment of her jealous husband. Not long after, that pious man, walking towards the river, as he usually did, to recreate himself after his devotions, desired one whom he saw a-fishing to bring him the first fish he should catch, which was done accordingly; and in the mouth of the fish he found a ring, which he immediately sent to the lady, to take off her husband's suspicion.

It is observable that the arms of Glasgow are repeated, though with some difference, on the great bowl which once belonged to the Saracen's Inn, a relic of jovial days which have long since passed away.

It would appear that Glasgow is rich in antiquarian treasures of one kind at least; namely, in seals of ancient ecclesiastics. We are permitted to reproduce here two specimens of these, the one that of Robert Wyschart or Wishart, who sat in the Archiepiscopal chair at the close of the thirteenth and beginning of the fourteenth century, which represents in its design the story of the fish and the ring, as

*REXFURITHEC

GET:AIRUMDUM SACERORAT✰

ARCHIEPISCOP

Scal of Wishart.

marked above. The other is that of Fairfoul, one of the ex-Presbyterian ministers who were consecrated to the Episcopal office in Westminster Abbey in 1663. In the latter may be seen a repetition of the heraldic bearings of the city already described by us in detail, and interpreted for the benefit of modern readers.

E. WALFORD.

PHEASANT SHOOTING.

HAT have you got in your basket, boy?" This question we innocently asked of the keeper's eldest son, who was wending his way to the market town with an enormous covered basket. From his hesitation in answering so natural a question we suspected that something was wrong, and suddenly lifting the cover were soon satisfied as to the cause of the hesitation; for to our surprise and consternation we discovered four or five fine pheasants, and these, without further questioning, we naturally concluded were being conveyed to market for sale. It is a great thing to be seen wending your way home from office with a brace of pheasants for your placens uxor on the First of October, and many is the clerk you may see on London Bridge on that day so distinguished. But those gentlemen would be greatly surprised to learn how their game was procuredthat they are little better than receivers of stolen goods-and would certainly be astounded to find with what contempt they are regarded by sportsmen.

By sowing a little buckwheat on a commanding hill between two splendid preserves, we always had a tolerable supply of pheasants, and as they had had a considerable supply of our corn we did not see any particular harm in appropriating a few of them once or twice in the year. Our man-of-all-work, whom we dignified by the style and title of keeper, had, besides his regular wages, plenty of privileges --such as selling rabbits, breaking pointers, and so forth, and we thought it rather hard that he should steal the pheasants, which we regarded as our especial perquisites; but we had long suspected him of playing foul with our interests, and were soon to be sufficiently satisfied upon the matter, though very unexpectedly.

We believe it is Colonel Hawker, whose authority none will dispute, who says: "We can never be at a loss in knowing where to go for pheasants, as we have only to send some one the previous evening, for the last hour before sunset, to watch the different barley or oat stubbles of a woodland country, and on these will be regularly displayed the whole contents of the neighbouring coverts. It then remains to be chosen which woods are the best calculated to shoot in; and, when we begin beating them, it must be remembered to draw the springs, so as to intercept the birds from the old wood. If the coverts are wet the hedgerows will be an excellent beginning,