if they charged us we must jump out and swarm up a tree!  I was glad to be out of such a fearful escapade as that.”  “As to diversities in the Scotch Church, after seeing many clerical specimens of each kind, I judge that (generally) the Established Scotch gives itself the superior airs of the Established English; the Frees are the most intellectual; the U.P.s most pious; the Scottish Episcopal getting excessively high; and some other varieties growing far too broad and pantheistic.  I don’t wonder to hear Papists say that Protestantism is breaking up; no two parsons are agreed on all points, some on none.”

As for social hospitalities, I found them either splendid or kindly—­or both—­everywhere; and will only name Captain Hamilton of Rozelle, Sir Michael Shaw Stewart of Ardgowan, Mr. Boyd of Glasgow, Mr. Gall and Mr. Nelson of Edinburgh, Mr. Arthur of Paisley, and such other millionaire hosts as James Baird, William Dickson, and the like, as among my wealthiest and kindest welcomers.

Of course, when a guest for a week at Rozelle, I paid due homage to Burns in his own territory; visiting his natal cottage, his funeral cenotaph, Alloway Kirk, the Auld Brig, &c. &c.—­all these in company with the millionaire iron-master and most enthusiastic admirer of Tam-o’-Shanter, Mr. James Baird.  When he took me to his magnificent castle hard by, he said to me “Ye’re vera welcome to ma hoose,”—­and I entered to inspect his gallery of pictures:  among them I noticed, with surprise at such an incongruous subject for a painting, an ugly red factory in course of building, and a man on a ladder leaning against it, with a hod on his shoulder.  To my inquiry about this, he replied, “Yon’s mysel’,—­I’m proud to say; that’s what I was, and this is what I am.”  He had made, while yet a workman, some discovery about cold blast or hot blast (I don’t know which) and gained enormous wealth thereby.  He is the man who gave half a million of money to the Scotch Established Church.

CHAPTER XXXV.

ELECTRICS.

I have something of interest to say about the first laying of the electric telegraph across the Atlantic.  Sir Culling Eardley invited a number of savants, among them Wheatstone and Morse, and others, both English and American, to a great feast inaugurating the completion of the cable:  and I, amongst other outsiders, had the honour of being asked.  I had written, and after dinner I read, the verses following, which had the good and great effect of originating the first message (see the seventh stanza) which was adopted by acclamation and sent off at once; being only preceded, for courtesy-sake, by a short friendly greeting from Queen to President, and President to Queen.  The heading runs in my book as “The Atlantic Telegraph.”

    “World! what a wonder is this,
      Grandly and simply sublime,—­
    All the Atlantic abyss
      Leapt in a nothing of time! 
    Even the steeds of the sun
      Half a day panting behind,
    In the flat race that is run,
      Won by a flash of the mind!