history in the brave, bad times of strife between Scotland and England, leaving Scott, in a later day, to tell the tale of it. Yesterday the heather was blooming, the peat smoke was rising, and the wild geese were screaming over broad stretches of this open country; and now strange new cities, such as the world has never seen before, larger in their area than Edinburgh and dedicated to the duty of manufacturing guns and shells, have sprung up like the prophet's gourd. Numbers of women are working here, also, braw Scottish lasses, often fishermen's daughters, coming from as far away as Skye and Stornoway, and the shores of the stormy waters that swallowed up Kitchener. They, too, love to sing and dance, especially at Christmas and the New Year, but there is no time to lose now. The Great Push has begun, and if the enemy is to be driven back and back, over the countries he has laid waste and the towns and villages he has reduced to shapeless heaps of scrag, the work of
