The Lure of Scotland
By
Eleanor B. Church
Acres of bright clumps of purple heather
to delight the eye, interesting sounds
from the joyous bagpipers to intrigue
the ear, delectable scones and other viands
with which to appease the gnawings of
hunger, and a host of interesting literary
and historic remains and curiosities to be
discovered and visited — all these and
more to lure the traveller to “Bonnie
Scotland.” Though the people look
lugubrious, there always remains the
perennial Scotch humor, and if the sum
mer excursionist wants an escape from
hot cities and high temperatures—as who
doesn’t—then Scotland with its moderate
climes and cooling breezes cannot fail to
please.
The Scotch bagpipers are omnipresent,
and even though the sounds emanating
from these strange looking instruments
may not appeal to you at first you will
very soon become accustomed to their
strident tones. They greet the traveller
as soon as he crosses the border and you
must expect to continue to hear them
until you are out again.
A trip to Scotland would not be com
plete without a visit to the time-honored
shrines of its favorite poet, Bobbie Burns.
Those country pastures which bore wit
ness to his numerous amorous adven
tures, and those town taverns which saw
his more convivial moments still remain
unchanged. Southwestern Scotland where
he lived is somewhat inaccessible but
the time and trouble expended in reach
ing the spot will be amply repaid to the
traveller in the keen pleasure he will gain
in seeing in actuality the “Brig of Boon,”
the kirk at Alloway and “the banks and
braes o’ bonnie Boon,” which previously
he had only envisioned in imagination.
A slight acquaintance with bloody
Scotch history will not go amiss as the
land is strewn with markers and castles,
fortresses and prisons, grim reminders of
battles and skirmishes, escapes and pur
suits that comprise many of the details
of the regions of Mary, Bonnie Prince
Charlie and all the Jameses.
Scotland is not lacking in modern, in
habited as well as ruined, desolated
castles, and one of the most beautiful
now in use is famed Balmoral, whose
exterior may be seen and whose grounds
may be visited by tbe public when tbe
royal English family is not in residence.
It is located in the midst of rolling, furzy
moors and is surrounded by the craggy,
gaunt Cairngorms .
The Trossachs and Aberfoyle revive
memories of Eoderick Bhu and fair Ellen,
Rob Roy and the tale of the red hot
poker—the country of Sir Walter Scott.
Edinburgh is one of the most charm
ing cities in the world. It abounds in
parks and castles, monuments and me
morials to its noted literary and historic
dead, wide streets and attractive public
gardens, art galleries and museums and
music. Augustus Saint-Gaudens, our own
great sculptor, has made a beautiful
plaque in memory of Robert Louis Steven
son which hangs in St. Giles Cathedral,
and on it is inscribed one of Stevenson’s
beautiful prayers: “Give us grace and
strength to forbear and persevere. Give
us courage and gaiety and the quiet mind.
Spare to us our friends. Soften to us
our enemies. Bless us, if it may be, in
all our innocent endeavors. If it may not,
give us the strength to encounter that
which is to come, that we may be brave
in peril, constant in tribulation, temperate
in -wrath, and in all changes of fortune,
and down to the gates of death, loyal
and loving to one another.”
Ivory Palaces
By
Ruth Martin
Beautiful, spotless, clean, pure, and
white stands my ivory palace. Its towers
reach toward the sky. Magnificently
carved doors protect my temple and pre
vent the entrance of intruders. Belicate,
yet oh, so strong, these doors stand. They
are finely carved, giving to those who
look closely a glimpse of what is inside.
Minute gems of art, pearls of beautiful
music, topazes of literature, flakes of gold
debs and silver words beautify these doors.
Windows are found at frequent intervals
and let in beautiful, healthful, cleansing
sunshine. These rays of sunshine pene
trate the innermost chambers to cleanse
my palace.
Inside the first chamber are stored
words. Millions upon millions of tiny
silver flakes to be used at any time. The
flakes are so small that it is impossible
to see them as they slip out. Among the
beautiful flakes are a few flakes which
are tarnished. Often, in a strong breeze,
these are taken out and destroy the beauty
of others. They are tarnished with a
spreading tarnish, which spreads and
spreads and spreads. It takes thousands
of perfect flakes to cover the tarnish
of one and then it is not complete.
The second storeroom contains the gold
of deeds. Much of this gold is in bullion
but more is in small pieces. The most
precious and most perfect is found in
smaller pieces. A close guard is kept over
this gold because it is so precious and
can mean a great deal. At times a guard
is careless and forgets the duty; then
an imperfect piece is handed out. It is
shoddy and expresses quantity rather than
quality. To prevent this happening again
the guard is doubled and when it is most
needed, the gold is not used. Precious?
Yes, but the guard must be strong, un
selfish, and -wise.
A huge chamber is full of the pearls
of music. Great variety is found. There
are huge magnificent ones that can be
enjoyed only at special times because of
the size; pearls that one finds it im
possible to appreciate at every move and
opportunity. Some use pearls which are
composed of every material and color to
give beauty in one grand combination
of harmony. Ordinary, yet beautiful, are
the pearls that are found more frequently
and which give joy to many. Then there
are small pearls which are perfect in every
detail; so small that one must observe
closely to find and appreciate them. One
by one these pearls roll out into space
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to be received indifferently or appreci
atively; but the storeroom always remains
full.
In the last chamber are the topazes
of literature-topazes which reflect every
ray of the sunlight. All love these found
in every palace because there are all
kinds. Some are imperfect, chipped,
broken and cheap, yet they satisfy some
of the onlookers because they lack ap
preciation. Numbers of topazes reflect the
light, gay rays giving happiness to many
others. To those who linger these gems
of literature are really beautiful. They
possess a warm, friendly light that never
leaves one but gives a feeling that friends
are always there. This light lifts many
burdens, gives cheer and hope, and never
refuses anyone any of its beauty.
An odd thing is this palace. The walls
are transparent, showing the imperfection
as well as the beauty. These reflections
are seen clearly by all in a large, clear
blue lake found in front of the ivory
palace. The lake spares no detail but re
veals everything, letting no corner go
unseen.
The ivory palace is my soul and the
reflecting lake is my life.