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Coming suddenly from such pure and bracing air 

 from the still sublimities of nature the hum of a 

 city falls upon the ear like a dream. One can 

 scarcely realise the noise and turmoil of carts and 

 carriages, or relish the odours from reeking gutters 

 and cesspools, or attune our organs of hearing to the 

 shouts and squallings of hundreds of ragged and 

 dirty urchins, up the narrow lanes and alleys of the 

 crowded emporium of wealth and traffic. All these 

 things instinctively drive us back again upon our- 

 selves ; we grasp the rod, that true emblem of tran- 

 quility and peace, more firmly in the hand, and look 

 back to the simplicity, and purity, and grandeur 

 which enshroud all our mountain wanderings and 

 rural contemplations. 



Following along the coast, we come, at a distance 

 of about twelve miles, to the Girvan, which springs 

 from the hills in the neighbourhood of Barr and 

 Straiton. One of its sources is Loch Spalander, 

 which contains excellent and large-sized trout, with 

 a goodly sprinkling of charr. Trolling with the 

 minnow in this sheet of water, which is of no great 

 extent, is very successful, at almost any part of the 

 fishing season. The banks of the Girvan have long 

 been highly celebrated for their fine scenery. Burns 

 sings of " Girvan' s fairy-haunted stream;" and the 

 whole neighbourhood is more or less interesting 

 from particular and striking incidents in Scottish 

 history. A place called Turnberry was the property 

 of Eobert Bruce, and the spot, as Burns relates, 

 "where Bruce ance ruled the martial ranks, and 



