the height of over 1,300 feet above the level of the sea right out of the sheen of barley fields, as from a sea of silver, form one of the salient features of this glorious landscape.  This is an interesting peculiarity of Scotch scenery;—­civilization sapping the barbarism of the wilderness; wheat-fields mordant biting in upon peaty moorlands, or climbing to the tops of cold, bald mountains, shearing off their thorny locks of heather and covering them with the well-dressed chevelure of yellow grain.  Where the farmer’s horse cannot climb with the plough, or the little sheep cannot graze to advantage, human hands plant the Scotch larch or fir, just as a tenant-gardener would set out cabbage-plants in odd corners of his little holding which he could have no other use for.

Abbotsferry is just above Abbotsford, and is crossed in a small row-boat.  The river here is of considerable width and quite rapid.  The boat was kept on the other side; so I hallooed to a man engaged in thatching a rick of oats to come and ferry me over.  Without descending from the ladder, he called to some one in the cottage, when, to my surprise, a well-dressed young woman, in rather flowing dress, red jacket, and with her hair tastefully done up in a net a-la-mode, made her appearance.  Descending to the river, she folded up her gown, and, settling herself to the oars, “pushed her light shallop from the shore” with the grace of The Lady of the Lake.  In a few minutes she ran the prow upon the pebbled beach at my feet, and I took my seat at the other end of the boat.  She did it all so naturally, and without any other flush upon her pleasant face than that of the exercise of rowing, that I felt quite easy myself and checked the expression of regret I was on the point of uttering for putting her to such service.  A few questions convinced me it was her regular employment, especially when her father was busy.  I could not help asking her if she had ever read “The Lady of the Lake,” but found that neither that romance nor any other had ever invested her river experience with any sensibility except of a cheerful duty.  She was going to do the whole for a penny, her usual charge, but I declined to take back any change for the piece of silver I gave to her, intimating that I regarded it cheap at that to be rowed over a river by such hands.

Almost opposite to Abbotsford I passed one of the best farming establishments I had seen in Scotland.  I was particularly struck with a feature which will hereafter distinguish the steddings or farm buildings in Great Britain.  Steam has already accomplished many changes, and among others one that could hardly have been anticipated when it was first applied to common uses.  It has virtually turned the threshing-floor out of doors.  Grain growing has become completely out-of-door work, from seeding to sending to market.  The day of building two-story barns for storing and threshing wheat, barley and oats is over, I am persuaded,