and water—all form an enchanting panorama which indelibly instamps itself on the mountaineer's mental vision. Add to this the social aspect of his nature, and you have a still stronger chain of attachment to his barren home. He feels himself as an individual member of a large family or confederacy, with common interests, common language and traditions. The huge mountain barriers which prevent the inhabitants of a glen from general communication with others, and completely isolate them, tends to generate this feeling of clannishness. They work in a great measure together, tending their flocks, cultivating their crofts, capturing their fish. And especially is their social nature developed in their long winter evening gatherings from house to house, in rehearsing their traditionary folk-lore, and cultivating the poetic muse in every variety of verse and style of chorus. Nor does the holy day of rest interrupt their gregarious proclivities. They meet at the same kirk, they survey with becoming emotion the last resting place of those who were content to have their remains repose in their native valley, they hear proclamations of plighted affection between parties who have no higher ambition than to share each other's future lot on the scantiest fare, they join "their artless notes" together in grateful thanksgiving to the Sovereign of all lands for such temporal gifts as others might think "small mercies," and more especially do they hear, in their own expressive vernacular, impressive lessons upon time and its manifold labours, its constant changes and solemn issues.

All this constitutes a sacred tie of affection to the native spot, lasting as the hills, and which no other can understand like the Scottish Gael. It must, therefore, be duly recognised and weighed by all benefactors of the race, if they would loosen its hold upon the individual without outraging his feelings, and loosening "the brittle thread of life." Of this strong attachment many instances might be given. We have been told by a venerable divine of a Highland parish how repeatedly he had witnessed the fond affection of his parishioners in taking their departure, how they approached the sacred edifice, ever dear to them, by the most hallowed associations, and with tears in their eyes kissed its very walls, how they made an emphatic pause in losing sight of the romantic scenes of their childhood, with its kirks and cots, and thousand memories, and as if taking a formal and lasting adieu, uncovered their heads and waved their bonnets three times towards the scene, and then with heavy steps and aching hearts resumed their pilgrimage towards new scenes in distant climes.

But in thus quitting his native land the Highlander did not leave his loyalty and patriotism behind. The country to which he was steering his course was under the colonial away of George the Second; and to that region he transferred his loyalty and clannishness, and all those traits of character which distinguish him from other races. Unless, indeed, these peculiarities were taken advantage of, the foreign field for emigration, with its various inducements, might have appealed in vain. As a clannish being, and accustomed throughout his whole historical life to follow the direction of chiefs and leaders, the Scottish Gael is now invited to resign himself to the same leadership with the view of crossing the great Atlantic. Accordingly emigration leaders were found who made it their business to attend to the interests of their countrymen, and accompany their footsteps to their new homes. The first of these leading benefactors who broke the ice of emigration to Carolina was a Neil M'Neill of Kintyre, who succeeded in leading a whole shipload of his countrymen to that colony and settled them on the banks of the Cape Fear River, where he himself also made his permanent home, and where his name is still perpetuated by a numerous and respectable offspring to the present day.

Here at the head of navigation, and at a distance of more than a hundred miles from the sea coast, the immigrants literally pitched their camp, for the country was then almost an unbroken wilderness and few human abodes to offer shelter, the chief occupants of the soil being droves of wild horses, wild cattle, deer, turkeys, wolves, raccoons, oppossums, and last but not least, huge rattlesnakes in hideous coils, ready to oppose the disturbers of their marshy tranquillity. Fortunately for the homeless pioneers the climate was genial and favourable, and all that could be expected from its southern latitude of 35 degrees. The only protection, therefore, absolutely necessary for health and comfort was some temporary shelter from the heavy autumnal dews of that region; and this they could speedily extemporise or discover already at hand in the arching canopy of stately hickories, mulberries, and walnut trees, where in patriarchal fashion, "each one under his own vine and fig tree" they could while away days and weeks without any serious discomfort or detriment to health. But they soon set about the work of improvement in their new domains. They construct more permanent abodes in the shape of log cottages, neat, clean, and tidy, and two for a family, according to subsequent use and wont in that warm country. They begin to fell the primeval forest, to grub, drain, and clear the rich alluvial swamps bordering on that stream, to reduce to ashes in a thousand conflagrations the most valuable timber of every variety and sort, and to supersede this primeval growth by the more precious production of rice, cotton, maize, melons, pumpkins, peaches, grapes, and other endless varieties for comfort and luxury. All this is accomplished, be it known, by ways and means of which, in the case of the new settler, stern necessity is the inventing mother. And may we not here suggest the reflection how much the residuary occupants of our glens are interested in these bush clearances. In receiving in regular supplies from that very district, the famous "Carolina Rice," chief of its class, not to speak of other products, is there not awakened a feeling of interest and grateful thanks to the memory of our hardy kinsman in the days of yore.

But progression and improvement is the rule in every colony and growing community. By the increase of population and settlement of a country the laws of society imperatively demand a different mode of life. The abundant supply of the necessities of life soon creates a desire for its comforts, and these in turn for its conveniences and luxuries. This progressive change is distinctly marked in the case before us. Very soon the nucleus of a town is seen in the centre of the settlement, where the products of industry could be bartered and sold, and where the usual system of commerce could afford facilities for supplying the growing demands of a prosperous community. The name of Campbelton is given to this hamlet, thus identifying the national origin of its patriotic founders, and when by subsequent emigrations it grew to a large and commercial importance, rivalling and soon surpassing its namesake in the Fatherland, and becoming the seat of justice and general centre of traffic for that whole Highland district, the names of its commercial firms, of its civic officials, judges, and barristers, unmistakeably declared that the name of the town was well chosen. And although the course of events afterwards changed its original designation to that of La Fayette or Fayetteville, which it still retains, yet it will always be remembered with a lively interest by Scottish Highlanders as the abode of their brave countrywoman, the renowned heroine Flora Macdonald, whose memory is still cherished in the country of her sojourn, and whose name is preserved from oblivion by the gay and gallant little steamer "Flora Macdonald," which plies up and down the unruffled waters of the Cape Fear.

As already remarked, this was the beginning of the