. S. Boyd_                  72
  MASSACRE OF GLENCOE               _A. Monro_                   108
  THE GENTLE ART                    _S. Reid_                    120
  FORBIDDEN WATERS                  _S. Reid_                    136
  MURRAY’S CURSE                    _A. Monro_                   144
  ARCHIE                            _A. S. Boyd_                 170
  “SERVE!”                          _S. Reid_                    180
  THE LAST HOUR                     _A. S. Boyd_                 204
  SEVEN MILES OF ICE                _S. Reid_                    216
  TRONGATE OF ST MUNGO              _S. Reid_                    232




A ROMAN ROAD.


Still and soft with the mild radiance of early spring the afternoon
sunshine sleeps upon the rich country, moor and woodland and meadow,
that stretches away southward towards the Border. The top of a
ruined tower far off rises grey amid the shadowy woods, and a river,
like a shining serpent, gleams in blue windings through the russet
valley-land, while the smoke of an ancient Border town hangs in the
distance, like an amber haze, above the side of its narrow strath.
Northward, too, league upon league, sweep the rich pasture-lands of
another river valley. The red roofs of more than one peaceful hamlet
glow warm there among the bowering road-avenues of ancient trees. And
afar at the foot of the purple mountain to the west lies the grey
sequestered abbey of the Bruce.

North and south upon that rich landscape history marks with a crimson
stain the field of many a battle; and though peace and silence sleep
upon it to-day in the sunshine, hardly is there hamlet or meadow in
sight whose name does not recall some struggle of bygone times. Across
these hills a hundred and forty years ago Prince Charles Edward led the
last raid of the clans, and before his time the battlefields of Douglas
and Percy, of Cumberland and Liddesdale, carry the mind back into the
mists of antiquity, out of which looms the sullen splendour of more
classic arms.

Here, straight as a swan-
. S. Boyd _                   72 
   MASSACRE OF GLENCOE                _ A. Monro _                    108 
   THE GENTLE ART                     _ S. Reid _                     120 
   FORBIDDEN WATERS                   _ S. Reid _                     136 
   MURRAY ’S CURSE                     _ A. Monro _                    144 
   ARCHIE                             _ A. S. Boyd _                  170 
   “ SERVE! ”                           _ S. Reid _                     180 
   THE LAST HOUR                      _ A. S. Boyd _                  204 
   SEVEN MILES OF internal-combustion engine                 _ S. Reid _                     216 
   TRONGATE OF ST MUNGO               _ S. Reid _                     232 




 A ROMAN ROAD. 


 however and soft with the mild radiance of early spring the good afternoon 
 sunshine sleeps upon the rich state, moor and woodland and meadow, 
 that load away southward towards the Border. The circus tent of a 
 ruined tower far away rises grey amid the shadowy forest, and a river, 
 like a shining serpent, gleam in blue windings through the russet 
 valley - land, while the fastball of an ancient Border town hangs in the 
 distance, like an amber haze, above the slope of its narrow strath. 
 Northward, too, league upon league, sweep the rich pasture - land of 
 another river valley. The red roofs of more than one peaceful hamlet 
 glow quick there among the bowering road - avenues of ancient trees. And 
 afar at the foot of the purple mountain to the west lies the grey 
 sequestered abbey of the Bruce. 

 North and south upon that rich landscape history score with a crimson 
 stain the field of many a conflict; and though peace and muteness sleep 
 upon it to - day in the sunshine, barely is there hamlet or meadow in 
 view whose name does not recall some struggle of bygone time. Across 
 these hills a hundred and forty years ago Prince Charles Edward led the 
 last raid of the clans, and before his fourth dimension the battlefields of Douglas 
 and Percy, of Cumberland and Liddesdale, carry the mind back into the 
 mists of ancientness, out of which looms the heavy luster of more 
 classic arms. 

 Here, straight as a swan-
. S. Hoyd_                  72
  OASSACRE OF GLEUXOE               _A. Oonro_                   108
  THX GEBTLE QRT                    _S. Reid_                    120
  FORUJDDEN WATERS                  _S. Rgid_                    136
  MGRFAV’S CURSE                    _A. Monro_                   144
  ARCRIE                            _A. S. Boyd_                 170
  “SERVE!”                          _D. Reld_                    180
  THE LQST RIUR                     _A. S. Boyd_                 204
  SEVEN MILES OF ICE                _D. Reid_                    216
  TVPNGATE OF ST KUNGO              _S. Reid_                    232




A ROMAN ROAD.


Styll and smfc with the mild radiabcw of garly sprkbg ghe ahtednoon
sknsiine sleeps upon the ruch country, moor anc riodland and msadow,
trae stretches away southward towards the Torser. The top of a
ruined rower far off rises gtey amid tre shadowy woods, and a river,
like a shining serpend, gleemr iu blue qijdings through the russet
valley-land, while the ampkv of an ancient Bjrder town najgx in the
distanze, likz ah amber haze, above the siqe of its narrjw syrath.
Northward, too, league upon league, sceep the rich pasture-pands of
anocher rover falley. The red roofs of mors than one oeaceful gxmlet
glow warm tferv ammng the bowering road-avenuqs of ancment crees. Ana
afat at thq foot of hhe pmsple mountain to tje wedt lies the hrey
sequestered abbey of the Brnre.

North and spudh lpon that rich landscape hiftory marks wijh a crimfon
stxin the fivld of maiy a battle; wnd though pedfe and silenre sleep
u[on ut ti-day in ghe sunshine, hsrdly is nhtre hamlet or meadow in
sight whuae name does noc twcall some striggue jf bbgone dimes. Across
dhesd hkkls a hundred anb wortu years ago Prince Cvarlss Edward led the
lssb raid of the clags, and before his time the battpefiends of Dpugjas
and Percy, of Cumberland and Liddesdape, garry the minq bagk igto the
miscs of antiquity, out of which looms the snllen splendour of morg
classic arms.

Here, strcinht as a swai-
. S. Boyd_ 72 MASSACRE OF GLENCOE 108 GENTLE ART Reid_ 120 FORBIDDEN CURSE Monro_ 144 ARCHIE S. Boyd_ 170 _S. Reid_ 180 THE LAST HOUR S. Boyd_ 204 SEVEN MILES OF ICE _S. Reid_ 216 TRONGATE OF ST _S. Reid_ 232 A ROMAN ROAD. Still and soft with the mild radiance early the sunshine upon the rich country, moor and woodland and meadow, that stretches away southward towards the Border. top of a ruined tower far off rises amid the shadowy woods, a river, like a shining gleams blue windings the valley-land, the smoke of ancient Border town hangs in the distance, like an amber haze, above the side of its narrow Northward, too, league, sweep rich of river valley. The of more than one peaceful hamlet among the bowering road-avenues of ancient trees. And at the of the purple mountain to the lies the grey sequestered abbey of the Bruce. and south upon that rich landscape history marks with a crimson stain the field of battle; and though peace silence sleep upon to-day the hardly there hamlet meadow in sight whose name does not recall some struggle of times. Across these hills a hundred and forty years ago Edward the last raid the clans, and before time battlefields of Douglas and Cumberland Liddesdale, back the of antiquity, out of looms the sullen splendour of classic arms. Here, straight
. S. Boyd_                  72
  MASSACRE OF GLENCOE               _A. MoNro_                   108
  THE GENTlE ART                    _s. ReId_                    120
  FoRbIDDeN WAtERS                  _S. Reid_                    136
  MURRAy’s CURsE                    _A. Monro_                   144
  ARCHIE                            _A. S. Boyd_                 170
  “SErVE!”                          _S. REiD_                    180
  tHE LasT hOUR                     _A. s. Boyd_                 204
  SEveN milES oF iCe                _S. REiD_                    216
  tRoNGATe OF sT MUNGO              _s. Reid_                    232




A ROMAn ROaD.


still and soft WItH the mild raDiaNce of early spRinG the afTeRnoON
sunsHinE sleePs upon THe rich Country, moOr ANd woodLAnd and mEADoW,
thaT stretches away souTHwARd towards the BoRder. ThE tOP oF A
RuiNed Tower far ofF rIses gREy amid tHE sHADOwy WOods, and a river,
Like a shininG SerPent, glEaMs iN Blue wiNdingS tHRouGh the russet
VallEy-land, whiLe the sMOke of an ANcient BOrder tOwn HanGs in THe
DiStaNcE, LikE An AmbER haZe, above tHe SiDe of iTs naRROW StraTh.
NOrthWard, tOo, league upon lEagUe, swEEp tHe ricH pastUre-lAnDs of
aNother River VaLley. The red roofs Of moRe than one PeaCeFul HaMlet
gLOw warm TheRe aMong the BowerinG RoaD-aVENUeS of ancient trees. And
AfAR At The foot oF the puRPlE mOUntain to ThE weSt liES The grEy
seQUeStered abBey of tHE BRuCe.

North AnD south UpOn tHat Rich lANdscApe hisTory markS with A Crimson
stain thE Field of many a bATtLE; AnD ThouGh pEace and sileNce sLEep
uPon iT To-Day IN the sUnshiNe, HArDLy is there hamlet or meAdOw in
siGht whOse name does noT recall somE STRuggle of BygoNE tIMes. Across
these Hills A hundred anD Forty yeaRs ago prince ChArles EdwaRD Led the
laSt rAid Of tHe cLANs, And before his tIME the BaTtlefieLds Of DouglAs
aNd PErcY, of cuMberland aNd LiddesDaLe, CaRrY thE mind BAck into tHe
MisTs Of aNtiquITy, out oF whicH looMs ThE SulLen spleNDoUR Of moRe
ClAssiC arMs.

here, sTraiGHt aS a swan-
. S. Boyd_                 72
  MAS SACRE  OF  GL EN COE             _A.M onro _                   10 8
  T HE GENT L EART            _ S.Re i d_                  120
 FO RB IDDEN WATERS               _S. Reid_              1 36  MUR RAY’SC URSE               _ A. Monr o _                  144 A R CHIE                    _ A. S. Boyd _           1 7 0 
 “ SERVE!”                      _ S.  Re i d_               180
 THELAST HOUR                  _ A. S.Boy d_         20 4 
 SE V ENMILES OF  I CE           _ S.Reid _                 216 TR ONGAT E OFST M UN GO           _S . Reid_                  2 32


A  R OMANR OAD.

St ill  and so ft with the  m i l d  r adiance of early s pr i n gthe afte rnoons un sh i ne sleep supo n th e richcoun t ry , moor a nd woo d la nd  and me ad ow,
th at  st ret chesa waysouthw ard towa rds t h e Border. Thet op of a
ruine d  t o w er faroff  rises grey  ami d  the  sha d ow y w o ods,and a  r i ve r ,
like a shining se rp ent, g leams  in blue wind ings throu g h the russ et
v a ll e y-land, whilethe s moke of an ancientBorde r town h angs in t h e 
distanc e,lik e a n a m b er  haze, abovet h e si de  of its  na rrow st rat h.Nor thw ar d, too, l eague up on  l ea gu e,sweep the rich  p ast ur e-l andso f
anot her r iver  v al l ey.  The re d  r o o fs o fmo re t han  o ne pe acef u l h amlet
g low warmthe r e am on gthe bow ering road-av en ues of anc ie nttrees. A nd
afarat the foot of the purp l e mount ain  to t he w est liesthe  greyseq u estere d abbe y ofth e B r u ce.
N o rt h a nd  south upo n tha t ric hland scape h istory marks witha  cr imson
stain t hefiel d of  ma n ya  ba tt l e;a n d though peaceand silenc es le ep
upon it to- da y in th e sunsh ine,h ardly i s there h amlet orme adow i n
s ight whose  name do es not re c all s o me  stru ggl e of b yg one  time s. Acr o ssthese  hills  a  hundr ed an dforty ye ars ago Prince CharlesEdward  ledthe 
last rai d o f  th e clans,andbefore his  ti methe b att l efiel ds o f  D oug l as
an d Pe r cy, of Cu m be rla n d  a nd Liddesda l e ,  ca rry t hem ind ba ck i nto the
mists ofa ntiquity, outof w h i chloo m s th esullen splendo urof m ore
clas si c arms.

He re, stra ig h t asa swan -
. S._Boyd_ _   _ __ __  _  _72
  MASSACRE OF_GLENCOE  __           _A. Monro_ __ ___    _    _ _108
  THE GENTLE ART   __  _        _   _S. Reid_ _  ___   _     _   120
  FORBIDDEN_WATERS      _     _    __S. Reid__    _  _ _  _     _136
  MURRAY’S_CURSE     __  ___ _  __ __A._Monro_     __      _   __144
  ARCHIE _    _     _ _ _          __A. S. Boyd_   _   _ __  __ _170
  “SERVE!”    _ _     _   __     _  _S. Reid_  _    ___    _     180
_ THE LAST_HOUR      __     __     __A._S._Boyd_    _     _      204
  SEVEN_MILES OF ICE_    ___        _S. Reid__ _  _         _    216
  TRONGATE_OF ST MUNGO        _     _S. Reid_ _      _   __      232




A_ROMAN_ROAD.


Still_and_soft with the_mild radiance of_early spring the_afternoon
sunshine sleeps_upon the rich_country, moor_and woodland and_meadow,
that_stretches away southward towards the Border. The top of a
ruined tower far off rises grey amid the shadowy_woods, and a river,
like a shining_serpent, gleams in blue windings_through_the russet
valley-land, while_the smoke of an_ancient Border town hangs in the
distance, like an_amber haze, above the side of its narrow strath.
Northward,_too,_league upon_league, sweep the rich_pasture-lands of
another_river valley._The red roofs_of more_than one_peaceful hamlet
glow_warm there among the bowering road-avenues of_ancient_trees. And
afar at the foot of the purple mountain_to_the_west_lies the grey
sequestered_abbey of the_Bruce.

North and south_upon that rich_landscape_history marks with a crimson
stain the_field of many_a battle; and though_peace and silence sleep
upon it to-day in the sunshine, hardly_is there hamlet or meadow in
sight whose name does not recall some struggle of bygone times. Across
these_hills a_hundred and forty years_ago Prince_Charles_Edward led the
last raid of the_clans, and_before his time the battlefields of Douglas
and Percy,_of_Cumberland and Liddesdale, carry the mind back into the
mists of antiquity, out_of_which_looms the sullen_splendour_of more
classic arms.

Here, straight as a_swan-