The weather was fine, and the farmers were very busy at work. A
vast quantity of grain, especially of oats, was cut and ready for
carting; but little of it had been ricked in consequence of frequent
showers. I noticed that they used a different snath for their
scythes here from that common in England. It is in two parts, like
the handles of a plough, joining a foot or two above the blade. One
is shorter than the other, each having a thole. It is a singular
contrivance, but seems to be preferred here to the old English pole.
I have never seen yet an American scythe-snath in England or
Scotland, although so much of our implemental machinery has been
introduced. American manure-forks and hay-forks, axes and augurs
you will now find exposed for sale in nearly every considerable
town, but one of our beautifully mounted scythes would be a great
novelty here.

The scenery varies, but retains the peculiarly Scotch features.
Hills which we should call mountains are frequently planted with
trees as far up as the soil will lie upon the precipitous sides. On
passing one of great height, bald at the top, but bearded to the
eyebrows with fir and larch, I asked an elderly man, a blacksmith,
standing in his shop-door, if they were a natural growth. He said
that he and his two boys planted them all about forty-eight years
ago. They were now worth, on an average, twelve English shillings,
or about three dollars a-piece.

I lodged in Kinross, a pleasant-faced, quiet and comfortable little
town, done up with historical associations of special interest.
Here is Loch Leven, serene and placid, like a mirror framed with
wooded hills, looking at their faces in it. It is a beautiful sheet
of water, taking the history out of it. But putting that in and