As we came towards Glasgow, we saw, upon a high hill, what we supposed to be a castle on fire--great volumes of smoke rolling up, and fire looking out of arched windows.
"Dear me, what a conflagration!" we all exclaimed. We had not gone very far before we saw another, and then, on the opposite side of the car, another still.
"Why, it seems to me the country is all on fire."
"I should think," said Mr. S., "if it was in old times, that there had been a raid from the Highlands, and set all the houses on fire."
To this some one answered out of the Lay of the Last Minstrel,--
"Sweet Teviot, by thy silver tide The glaring bale-fires blaze no more."
As we drew near to Glasgow these illuminations increased, till the whole air was red with the glare of them.
"Dear me," said Mr. S., in a tone of sudden recollection, "it's the iron works! Don't you know Glasgow is celebrated for its iron works?"
So, after all, in these peaceful fires of the iron works, we got an idea how the country might have looked in the old picturesque times, when the Highlanders came down and set the Lowlands on fire; such scenes as are commemorated in the words of Roderick Dhu's song:--
"Proudly our pibroch, has thrilled in Glen Fruin, And Banmachar's groans to our slogan replied; Glen Luss and Ross Dhu, they are smoking in ruins, And the best of Loch Lomond lies dead on her side."
To be sure the fires of iron founderies are much less picturesque than the old beacons, and the clink of hammers than the clash of claymores; but the most devout worshipper of the middle ages would hardly wish to change them.
Dimly, by the flickering light of these furnaces, we see the approach to the old city of Glasgow. There, we are arrived! Friends are waiting in the station house. Earnest, eager, friendly faces, ever so many. Warm greetings, kindly words. A crowd parting in the middle, through which we were conducted into a carriage, and loud cheers of welcome, sent a throb, as the voice of living Scotland.
I looked out of the carriage, as we drove on, and saw, by the light of a lantern, Argyle Street. It was past twelve o'clock when I found myself in a warm, cozy parlor, with friends, whom I have ever since been glad to remember. In a little time we were all safely housed in our hospitable apartments, and sleep fell on me for the first time in Scotland.