tale to tell. When I examined it first in 1863, and for eight or ten years afterwards, there were only 180 pupils, and the education, though sound, was mainly elementary. It now takes rank with a roll of 800 pupils as a fully equipped science school. Here, as in the Edinburgh schools referred to, the fees are low and the education excellent. The foundationers, formerly boarded and clothed in the hospitals, and more or less cooped up in a quasi-monastic institution, receive equivalent allowances, live with their parents or guardians, dress as they please, and enjoy the natural liberty best suited to enable them to discharge successfully the duties of citizenship.

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CHAPTER XXV.

THE BITTERS LATITUDE-GIVE IT A GOOD NAME-SUDDEN METEOROLOGICAL CHANGE-BIBULOUS SCOTLAND "HE PUT TOO MUCH WATER IN HIS WHISKY"-ITS PRESERVATIVE QUALITIES-SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION-AN AWFUL RISKA HIGHLAND FUNERAL-ROMAN CATHOLIC RAG-GATHERERS -THE MOST DANGEROUS FORM OF DRUNKENNESS-SABBATH OBSERVANCE IN THE HIGHLANDS-" MEN "--SUPERSTITIONS.

EVERY man who has travelled much in the Highlands must have observed that, when he has reached a certain degree of latitude, the morning dram is a preliminary to breakfast in practically every house in which the ménage is fairly comfortable, or in what may be called a "bien house," whether it be the house of a minister, a well-to-do farmer, or a laird. This at any rate was the case thirty years ago. It is usually called bitters, and it often is a mixture of bitters and whisky, but it is also sometimes simply whisky. It is natural to infer from this that Highlanders must be more drunken

than Lowlanders. So far as I have observed, such an inference is unwarranted. It is usually a very small drop, about one-fourth of a wineglass or less. I have often seen gentlemen, and sometimes ladies, of irreproachably temperate habits, pay a visit to the sideboard and the bottle of bitters before sitting down to breakfast. When I visited Russia in 1897 I found the same custom prevalent on board Swedish and Russian steamers and in restaurants, and Swedes and Russians of that social class are not a notoriously intemperate people. I am unable to account for the custom, and I am not concerned to maintain that it is a good one. I only state the fact. It may be due to climatic conditions common to Sweden and the Highlands and Islands of Scotland. If I may

believe, and I know no reason why I should not, the account given me by a hotelkeeper in the west of Ross-shire, I should be disposed to assign the climate as the cause, seeing that Englishmen, when exposed to the same conditions, take kindly to the custom.

Some thirty years ago I was staying in the Balmacara Hotel, near Strome Ferry. During my stay a displenishing sale at a large farm in the neighbourhood was to take place. The ferry

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crossings at Kylerhea and Kyleakin are sometimes very troublesome, and farmers from considerable distances had come to the hotel on the night previous to the sale in view of possibly bad weather. On going into the commercial room for breakfast I found it full of these visitors, and Mr Macrae, the landlord, going round, bottle in hand, with the so-called bitters. When in due course he came to me, I asked in joke if it wasn't a very bad thing to drink whisky before breakfast.

"Oh no,” he replied, “it is a very good old custom."

"But," I said, "if English people saw us taking whisky in the morning they would think we were a very drunken lot."

"Well," he replied, "I'll tell you my experience. When the Englishmen will come here, I'll give them a small drop just like the rest, and they'll pull a very ugly face, and say, 'Ach, Mr Macrae, it's very bad!' I'll never mind them, but I'll just persevere for three or four days, and give them a small drop every morning. And do you know, they find it does them good, and they'll come to like it, and they'll call it a tonic, and take it every morning whatever, and pull ugly faces no more."

U

I am assured that the custom has now to a large extent died out. Mr Macrae's illustration of the fact that one drop of bitters makes the whole world kin is corroborated by the experience of an Englishman on his first visit to Scotland. He was an oldish man, but very plucky, and had made up his mind to make good use of his visit, even at the cost of personal inconvenience. He paid a visit to Arran, where a company of volunteers were camping out. They were to change guard at an early hour in the morning, and the old gentleman, having resolved to do everything thoroughly, left his comfortable bed and repaired to the camping-ground. It was a cold raw

morning, and his nose was blue and moist. He looked the very picture of discomfort, and could not help railing against the climate and the weather as the worst he had ever experienced. A friend of mine near him took pity on him and gave him from his flask a glass of undiluted whisky. This had not reached its destination more than a few minutes when he turned round rubbing his hands gleefully, and with a beaming countenance exclaimed, "Well, 'pon my word, this is a glorious morning."

Several considerations furnish very clear evi