this giant steamer perfect: in short, her arrangements will be so complete that in fact she will be a first-class floating family hotel, with corresponding accommodations for single gentlemen.

Below Port Glasgow the Clyde expands into vastness. Bute, the Cumbraes, &c. meet the eye in succession, passing Greenock and other minor places, among which, however, the Loch Light-house must not be forgotten, as near the spot where the Comet catastrophe occurred some years back. Largs is the first place which need here be mentioned, as it is the head-quarters and principal rendezvous of the Northern Yachting Clubs, and its adjacent waters the scene of the Clyde Regattas. Its own situation is beautiful, and more appropriate waters for such sport cannot be found in even our sea-girt Isles. Dunoon, on the opposite shore, with a beautiful old castle, is also delightfully situated, and, I was informed, is one of the pleasantest places of retreat on this noble estuary. However amusing to some it might be, or allowable in another work, I must close my remarks on it by observing that you next pass the Cumbraes, two small islands, on the greater of which is the bathing-place of Milport, and on the lesser nothing but a light-house and the ruins of a splendid old castle, directly opposite to another on the Ayrshire shore at Port Crawford, and anent which there are Heaven knows how many "auld warl" talessome probably true, and others certainly the reverse:

Ardrossan, with the light-house on Horse Island, a dangerous low jumble of rocks, now greets you; and here on the right, in all its alpine yet lovely majesty, the glory of the Firth, the Isle of Arran, towers over the whole. Arran is in itself a place so peculiar, so pregnant (as far as fishing and shooting) in sport, so Hieland in its character, and so primitive in its simplicity as regards all its existing customs and local usages, that it deserves a separate mention; and as I visited it, will treat of it insularly at another time. No one can hardly look on it from the waters, as I viewed it, in a brilliant sunny day without feelings so briefly and beautifully expressed by the Sportsman's own poet Somerville, in the Chase

submiss, adore

That great creative will, who at a word

Spoke forth the wondrous scene, unchanged Himself."

Although it will subsequently come more appropriately in my line to bring Ayrshire under view as a fox-hunting country, it is so well worthy to be noticed by an Old Brother of the Angle, which I also am, that, referring more immediately to that department, and more particularly to Loch Fishing, now in all its prime and glory, it will be my object to devote a small space to that subject, which the scenes I visited will so naturally superinduce and if in so doing I can point out to any Metropolitan Brother of the Craft-and many admirable ones there are or others who from various causes may be cabined and

VOL. XIX.-SECOND SERIES.-No. 111.

Kk

confined, and can only seize on certain periods-if to such I can shew facilities, and now of easy and reasonable attainment, I hope I shall not be considered as doing unwisely or unwell.

Ardrossan is a stirring port, in a small way, for colliers from Ireland, &c., the coals being brought by rail-road from the interior; but the port and landing-place are apart from the bathing location. The houses are quite first-class, and fresh ones are rising up: it was almost desolate as I saw it; though in the season, I was informed, beds were at a premium. When the late Lord Eglinton called this place into habitation, he did not forget to erect a capital hotel, and it is as good as it looks, which is not always the case. The proprietor, Mr. Young, is deserving of all credit, for many reasons. In winter he has it all to himself, and in summer I should imagine he has hardly a spare minute. The day I was there, there were but two of us in his house, yet I never sat down to a neater or better-dressed dinner, and the charge moderate. The most beautiful feature in Ardrossan is the ruin of its old castle, formerly a strong-hold of the Eglinton family, and of great strength. It stands on an eminence, I imagine partly artificial: the view from it is beautiful. Just beneath, on a sandy sweep, between the port and the old town of Saltcoats, is a crescent of houses, with capital gardens behind, in high order, which are let during the season: the rents must be very high. The principal sporting feature which attaches to this place is its celebrated Coursing Club, as good as any in Britain; though in the summer season yachting, deep sea fishing, as well as lake and river, can be enjoyed in perfection-in the month of August more particularly for the latter.

Arran, between it and which a steamer conveys back and forward in four hours and at regular stated periods, affords a copious source, and although the shooting in Arran is strictly preserved, the fishing lies under no such prohibition, and at the time specified, salmon, grilse, and sea-trout, are plentiful. The angler will find all his impulses gratified in Arran, whether he be sensitive or sanguinary, a lover of the picturesque, or merely a slayer of fish. Goatfield, or Goatfell, rises 3000 feet direct above the level of the sea, and from its summit a view of the three (now united) kingdoms can in a fine day be obtained. Though by no means intending this for a notice of the Island, it may naturally suggest itself, "how comes it that a place so rife with the means of sport, and so easy of access, should not be overrun ?" As my object sincerely is to instruct to a certain extent, not mislead, I answer, "The Duke of Hamilton is principal proprietor, and although he could make double the rent, and more, than he does by encouraging settlers and the erection of villas, &c., he will not sacrifice the excellence of the shooting, the pastoral character of this delightful Highland retreat, or that of its natives, to mere lucre:" and who is the Sportsman any way who will not heartily applaud-and, if an angler, thank-a Nobleman of such true feeling! Moreover, the Island is so mountainous, the roads so bad, and the means of accommodation, except in two instances, so few, that it is only the determinée who will find real pleasure in it.

But Ardrossan is the place for head-quarters: you can have any accommodation you like: you can command in a few hours' journey

the best loch, take it all in all, I almost ever was on-Loch Doon; several rivers, in which sea-trout, &c. are to be killed: you can have what society you like, if you choose to mingle; and if you want to Penruddock it, you can hermitize ad libitum in Arran amid Nature, human as well as material, in its most primitive form.

Now the steamer from London takes you to Edinbro' in forty-eight hours an evening or afternoon will allow you to see enough of that romantic and splendid town: the "Marquis of Hastings" coach will set you down (passing through a beautiful country) at Kilmarnock (of which more anon) by four o'clock; whence, from the Turf Tavern, a most comfortable house, the Ardrossan coach will land you at seven. If any one may deem it worthy to act on these suggestions, let him go along with me in the few next following pages, and I will, under favor, confidently say he will so far not go wrong.

My next object being Loch Doon, I started by the Kilmarnock coach at seven, having been very reluctantly obliged to forego paying Eglinton Castle a visit, being naturally anxious to see any preparations that might be making for that all-absorbing event, the "PASSAGE AT ARMS," which is to take place here in September. But I found that, except forming the ground, &c., there was not much yet to see; and moreover if there was, as

"Haud cuivis homini contingit adire Corinthum,"

it was of no easy attainment. The road lies direct by Eglinton Castle, a fine looking extensive building, with nothing very remarkable in its features, which, on the whole, are more English than Scotch. Indeed it soon became obvious that I was in a country differing in its features widely from any I had seen in Scotland, and in all its essentials by far the best fox-hunting one. Just before you reach Eglinton, the beautiful and classic old village of Kilwinning shews itself. It is one of the most remarkable places in Scotland, as the first seat where Freemasonry was established from abroad; and the ruins, which are highly picturesque, of its ancient abbey, founded by Hugh de Morville in 1140, still remain to attest it. The founder of the masonic art was the foreign architect who erected them. It is also as remarkable for its archers, who have existed since 1488; and it was here that the celebrated papingo shooting used to take place. Both societies still exist. The game of the papingo, or popinjay, is well described in "Old Mortality;" and it would seem as if the example of the Noble Earl, who is lord of the soil here, in reviving the tournament, has had wider effects; for among the inducements held out at the Hippodrome, "shooting at the popinjay" is one. The Garnock, as sweet a stream as angler can look at, flows through Kilwinning; but its sylvan beauties and venerable relics are already rudely invaded: the Ayr and Glasgow Railway is in full course of progress through it: it and all other such levellers of everything rural and congenial to our feelings as Sportsmen have my sincere benediction-over the left! It is natural to suppose that this said tournament is a copious topic; and could His Lordship hear, or by any possibility heed, he would be much in the situation of the old man and his long-eared pony in the fable. With some, it is an act to immortalise him in all times to come: with others,

deserving a head-piece and corslet more restringent than helmet and cuirass, if not so weighty-and so on through all ramifications. Seriously speaking, all that, in a Sportsman's view, can be said of it is, that it may be hoped all will come off well; and that if these young and gallant Hotspurs

"must have bloody noses and crack'd crowns,

that they will enter into some bond of brotherhood, some vow of knighthood, not to carry it any farther, either in the lists or beyond them. Meddling with cold iron" is no joke in any shape; and how far a set of young men, in all senses "high in blood," might be carried in the impulse of personal contest and excitement, with a bevy of beautiful women for spectators, is a problem which but one philosopher can solve-He of the Scythe and Hour-glass.

Among many of the "wise saws and modern instances" I heard mooted about it, none amused me more than one broached by a romantic student I met in Arran, whose natural absurdity was duly enhanced by the smoke of some dozen cigars, quenched with as many diluted glasses of arran aqua*: to wit, "the fine effect it would have on morals-especially the chastity of the women-could it be restored effectually!" I conclude the Sumph had been engaged in the deep study of Mr. James's Abridgment in the National Library, or some such other comprehensive authority: but as-in imitation of the worthy who published editions of Henry the Fourth and The Merry Wives of Windsor, leaving out honest Jack Falstaff on account of his ribaldry-such works only shew what Chivalry, in all its points, decidedly was not, among many others that might be named, let any one read the Life of the "Petit Jehan de Santé," and he will see what effect this system of Squirehood "among the women" often led to. "Here," says Mr. James, "they (the pages) still remained, much among the women, who undertook to complete their knowledge of their duty to God and their Lady, instilling into their minds that refined and mystic idea of Love which was so peculiar a trait in the Chivalry of old.""- Refined and mystic idea of Love!" pretty nonsense! What says our friend "Petit Jehan?" Why, like all other petits, he grew great in due time and season.-And what did the chaste and fair Dame of the Castle "instil" into him? That while his Lord and Master was out, good easy man, on his adventures, breaking the bones of every varlet who refused to go down on his hunkers, and acknowledge fealty to God and his fair and chaste Lady, it was his, the Petit's, sworn devoir to perform, in his absence, all the functions and duties of his liege Lord in the minutest and most mystical particulars I cannot understand this over-refinement; and, in truth, what is it?-misleading those they pretend to instruct; shewing, not what was, but what was not. This false delicacy is almost as bad as the reverse. Faugh! if minds are so prurient as to need such overduennaism, it matters little what they read.

Talking of purging Shakspeare, I recollect an anecdote in point of the great John Kemble, and which I have no reason whatever to doubt. In the course of starring in his best days, he happened to be * Aqua is the distiller's term for spirits over-proof.

at Norwich, and was received there with all the honors due to his talents. Among others who solicited the company of the great actor was Doctor Plumtre, the father of Anna Plumtre of Blue-stocking memory and a dignitary of the Cathedral. As in most other cathedral societies, the Doctor had his own clique, and Miss Anna her set of literary admirers. Supping there one night after performing, the talk fell upon Shakspeare, and Kemble was appealed to, "if it was not to be lamented that so much low wit, &c. was mixed up with the highest effusions of the Bard?" Kemble paused, and meantime the glorious thought struck one of Miss Anna's toadies that she should purify and alter one of "Wild Will's" best plays, which Kemble should bring out with all pomp and circumstance of management ! All except the Actor were in ecstasy. Miss Anna turned up her eyes to heaven, and then intimated a resigned and gracious consent. The Doctor rubbed his hands, and drank a bumper of Port: and though Kemble sat with his tongue in his cheek as quiet as he could, yet "silence was consent," and the deed must be done.-Away went the "Star" to London to open Old Drury for the season, and down set Miss Anna, and massacred the Bard without mercy, while her father added a few of his best jokes and puns to eke out the deficiency. In order to lose no time, the Doctor ran about like a penny-postman, reading the scenes as they came amended from his daughter's pen, and fructified by his own wit, to her satellites: and when all was done, it was despatched by mail to the Manager, with a letter from the paternal pen, graciously intimating that it was in perfect time to open the house with, and that his daughter would permit her name to be inserted, &c. Days and nights wearied on with the prebendal conclave-but no answer. In short, not to be tedious, after every plea and excuse which mortified and affronted vanity could devise in self-assuagement, it was no longer to be borne; and the Doctor sat down, and in no measured terms poured forth all the vials of his wrath on the head of the recreant Manager. The return mail came: the Doctor was there himself; a packet, which cost something pretty considerable, was handed to him, and away he posted to the assembled and expectant divan. Bursting the seals, he recoiled aghast from what met his view-no letter from Kemble; all his own carefully returned, and the glory of the times the amended play-safe, sound, and untouched, just as it left the prebendal precincts. One of the assembled sçavans ventured to look over the parcel on one corner of the envelope which guarded the play was some small writing. "Here is something signed J. K.,” said the searcher. "Read it out, Sir!" thundered the Doctor, livid with outraged dignity. He was obeyed: it was as follows—

"There was an old woman of Norwich, d'ye see,

And on her behind there grew a Plumtree.”

The grand chorus and finale may be imagined!

The racing-stables at Eglinton are apart from the Castle, and more contiguous to Bogside Course, which verges on the sea. It has been much altered and improved by draining, &c., and is now very complete ; for scenery it cannot be surpassed. Some of the "cracks" were away in England, and, as it has eventuated, doing their devoir with that redoubt