Our party remained two days more in Glasgow, and visited quite a number of objects of interest and curiosity in and around the city.

At one end of the town there was a large open space, laid out for a pleasure ground; being somewhat similar in character to Boston Common, only it lay on the margin of the river, and commanded delightful views, both of the city itself and of the surrounding country. The grounds were adorned with trees and shrubbery, and paths were laid out over every portion of it, that were delightful to walk in. There were seats, too, at every point that commanded a pretty view. This place was called the Green.

The Green was at the eastern extremity of the city. At the other end, that is, towards the west, there was a region more elevated than the rest of the town, where the wealthy people resided. The streets were arranged in crescents and terraces, and were very magnificent. The houses were almost all built of stone, and were of a very massive and substantial, as well as elegant character.

Nearer the centre of the town was a very large and ancient church, called the cathedral. It was a solemn-looking pile of buildings, standing by itself in a green yard, back from the road, and thousands of swallows were twittering and chirping high up among the pinnacles and cornices of the roof. Although it was in the midst of a crowded city, the whole structure wore an expression of great seclusion and solitude.

Behind the church, and separated from it by a narrow valley, there was a steep hill, that was covered, in every part, with tombs, and monuments, and sepulchral enclosures. The hill was two or three hundred feet high, and there was a very tall monument on the top of it. There was a bridge across the valley behind the cathedral leading to this cemetery.

"Ah," said Mr. George, "that is the Necropolis."

"The Necropolis?" repeated Rollo.

"Yes," said Mr. George. "I read about it in the guide book. Necropolis means 'City of the Dead,' and it is a city of the dead indeed."

There were pathways leading up the side of the hill by many zigzags and windings. Across the bridge leading to it was a great iron gateway, with a small iron gate open in the middle of it. The boys wanted to go immediately to the cemetery, in order to have the pleasure of climbing up the zigzag paths to the top of the hill. But Mr. George said he wished first to go into the cathedral.

There was a gate leading into the cathedral yard, and a porter's lodge just inside of it. There was a sign up at the lodge, saying that the price of admission to see the interior of the cathedral was sixpence for each person. Waldron said that he did not think it was worth sixpence to go, and Rollo said that he did not care much about going. He had seen cathedrals enough, he said, on the continent. So it was agreed that the boys should go to the cemetery, and wait there till Mr. George came.

The boys accordingly went down the walk that led to the bridge. They stopped a moment at the open gate, not knowing whether it was right for them to go in or not. As, however, the gate was open, and there was nobody there to forbid the passage, they stepped over the iron threshold, and entered. There was a porter's lodge just inside, and a man standing at the door of it.

"Can we go in and see the cemetery?" asked Waldron."Certainly," said the porter. "Are you strangers in Glasgow?"

"Yes, sir," said Rollo, "we are Americans. My uncle is in the cathedral, and he is coming pretty soon."

"Then please to come in," said the porter, "and enter your names in the visitors' book."

So the boys went in. They found a very pleasant room, with a large book open on a desk, near a window. They wrote their names in this book, and also their residences, and they stopped a few minutes to look over the names that had been written there before, in order to see if any persons from America had recently visited the cemetery. They found several names of persons from New York on the list, and two or three from Philadelphia. While the boys were looking over the book the porter asked them a great many questions about America.

In a few minutes they went on. They stopped on the middle of the bridge, and looked down over the balustrade into the ravine. The ravine was very deep, and there was a little brook at the bottom of it, and a sort of road or street along the side of it, far below them.

The boys then went on into the cemetery. They walked about it for some time, ascending continually higher and higher, and stopping at every turn to read the inscriptions and monuments. At length they reached the summit of the hill, where the lofty column stood which had been erected to the memory of John Knox, the great Scottish reformer. The column stood upon a pedestal, which contained an inscription on each of the four sides of it. One of these inscriptions said that John Knox was a man who could never be made to swerve from his duty by any fear or any danger, and that, although his life was often threatened by "dag and dagger," he was still carried safely through every difficulty and danger, and died, at last, in peace and happiness; and that the people of Glasgow, mindful of the invaluable services he rendered to his country, had erected that monument in honor of his memory.

The boys had just finished reading the inscription, when, looking down upon the bridge, they saw Mr. George coming. They went down to meet him, and then showed him the way up to the monument.

Mr. George first looked up to the summit of it, and then walked all around it, reading the inscriptions. He read them aloud, and the boys listened.

"Yes," said he, "John Knox was a true hero. He stood up manfully and fearlessly for the right when almost all the world was against him; and to do that requires a great deal of courage, as well as great strength of character. Many people reviled and hated him while he lived, but now his memory is universally honored.

"I hope you two boys, when you come to be men," continued Mr. George, "will follow his example. What you know is right, that always defend, no matter if all the world are against it. And what is wrong, that always oppose, no matter if all the world are in favor of it."

"Yes, sir," said Waldron, "I mean to."

Mr. George and the boys rambled about the Necropolis some time longer, and then went on.

While they were in Glasgow the party visited several of the great manufacturing establishments. They were all very much surprised at the loftiness of some of the chimneys. There was one at a great establishment, called the St. Rollox Chemical Works, which was over four hundred and thirty feet high, and Mr. George estimated that it must have been thirty or forty feet diameter at the base. If, now, you ask your father, or some friend, how high the steeple is of the nearest church to where you live, and multiply that height by the necessary number, you will get some idea of the magnitude of this prodigious column. The lightning rod, that came down the side of it in a spiral line, looked like a spider's web that had been, by chance, blown against the chimney by the wind.