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‘•the frowning works” “the impregnable and loDg prepared position” and the “rifle trenches” of Marye’s Hill; and when this position, defended by about 3,500 men, was unsuccessfully attacked by Hancok’s, French’s, Howard’s Sturgis’ and Getty’s division, about 30,000 strong he states that “these troops could not advance and would not retire, and all they could do was to hold a line well ad vanced on the plain.” Now the truth of this whole matter is that Marye’s Hill was, and still is, a steep slope about thirty feet high, jutting out several hundred yards in front of a higher range of bills, on which higher range it was in tended before hand to make the battle. At the foot of the hill, and skirting it for three hundred yards, is a sunken road the revetment of which is the famous stone wall. On top of this hill and scat tered over the space of a quarter of a mile were eleven unfinished gun pits, and be f?iues the e not a spade had been stuck in the earth for a half mile nearly, in any direction. In front of this sunken road some two hundred yards, was a very con siderable parallel depression, through which llowed a small canal with some bridges over it. In this depression the Yankee columns formed under excellent cover and from it, they charged the stone wall or sunken road. In this road Gen. McLaws put a part of Cobb’s Brigade, afterwards reinforced by a part of Ker shaw s Brigade, from South Carolina, on the principle of fighting for every inch of ground that afforded an opportunity of making even a temporary stand. The Washington Artillery—nine guns, and two guns of Manny’s Battery occupied the eleven unfinished pits, and a regiment from Cooke’s North Carolina Brigade was in a ditch on the left of Cobb, extending his line from where the sunken road had turned to the front. The position was doubtless good, but by no means impreg nable, for an assaulting column would re ceive no musketry fire until it came out of the depression two hundred yards off, arid if it should succeed in approaching within sixty yards of the sunken road scarcely a single gun could he brought to bear on it, for the pits were located with the design of firing upon the enemy’s batteries across the river— net of defending the sunken road.— The principle reason of the enemy’s failure, was that he could not lace the fire long enough to close upon the Confederates, who were perfectly acces sible had he chosen to come. He could net advance, only, because he would not; and he would not retreat because the de pression gave cover and safety.* [to be continued ] *Tho official report of Gen. Meagher will astonish those who believe that the Irish Brigade did the principle part of the fighting on this field. This re port, published in Moore’s Rebellion Record, states that this Brigade (which was in the fifth line in the column of assault) made one assault, when being broken, it rallied in the tovm where, General Meagher, being a little lame, had preceded it to get his horse, and shortly ..tter being joined by its remnants he took it across the Rappahannock back to the north side. The "advanced line” that he heid in the plain was but the edge of this depression where he could stay without much exposure to tire. £i train. Wntii'.n for the Banner of the South ami Planters, Journal. HARVEST GLEANINGS FROM AN AU TUMN IN EUROPE WILLIAM HENRY WADDELL, UNIVERSITY OF GEORGIA. NO. i. THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND. "My heart is in the Highlands, my heart is not here, My heart’s in the Highlands, a chasing the deer; A chasing the wild deer and following the roe, My heart’s In the Highlands, wherever I go !” The above lines were chiming through my brain as a brisk little steamer shoved off from her landing immediately below one of the massive stone bridges thrown aeioss the river Clyde at Glasgow, in Scotland. ’Twas early in September and early in the morning—so early that the passengers, of whom I was one, were fully BANNER OF THE SOUTH AND PLANTERS’ JOURNAL. prepared to do justice, upon the steamer, to the breakfast which they had not been able to procure before embarking. For miles upon miles the banks of the Clyde, below Glasgow, are covered with vast hulls of uncompleted iron-clad steamers in every possible stage of advancement. The enormous black sides rise magnifi cently into the air, and the workmen swarm over them like bees, as the cease less ring of their hammers, riveting on the iron plates, echoes through the hills from dawn until dark. These vast wharves and other improvements upon the Clyde have cost in the neighborhood of fifteen millions of dollars. You may see, lying at their moorings in and around the great city of Glasgow, steamers be longing to lines running to Ireland, Eng land and other European destinations, as well as to Canada, the United States, the East Indies and Australia. Glasgow is indeed the third, and some think, the second city in the United Kingdom—dis puting the palm with Liverpool itself. All of the greatest and finest built ocean ships have been built upon the Clyde, and Messrs. Laird & Cos., and Messrs. Todd & McGregor and others, have, probably, more tonnage of this class afloat than all of the world put together. A glance at a map will show the reader that the river Clyde, at a short distance below Glasgow, is merged in a broad arm of the sea, which we would have called an inlet, but which the Scotch call the Frith or Firth of Clyde. The head waters of this and those of the Firth or Forth, on the opposite side of the Island, have their sources within but a few miles of one another. On the right bank of the river, just where it’s tributary, the Seven, empties into it, our attention was directed to a huge mound of solid rock, springing per pendicularly into the air, crowned by a massive fortification, and known since the days of Sir William Wallace, as “Dunbarton Castle.” A rocky staircase conducts us to the summit where we may see a huge, two-handed sword, said to have been wielded by the great Wallace himself, and whence we may enjoy a fine view of the river and Firth of Clyde and the beautiful Loch Lomond. The town of Greenock marks the end of the river and the beginning of the Firth. Our course here turns due south and, having rounded the Isk of Bute upon the right shore, we reversed the compass and steamed along the sea coa*t until we reached the mouth of a small inlet, called Loch (the Scotch for Lake) Tyne. Ten miles up this, and, upon the left side, the tourist will find upon his “ clew-map ” of Scotland, a black line drawn from Lock Fine across the nar row neck of land named Cantire to the south-western end of the great Caledo nian Canal. This black line is meant to represent the Crinan Canal of which the termini are Ararishaig and Crinan. This short-cut saves many a poor tourist’s stomach the pangs of sea-sickness which are inevitably attendant upon sailing around the long and narrow Peninsula of Cantire, shooting far out into rlie sea and exposing the little steamer to many a rude wave and rough wind, which it is ill-prepared to meet. Leaving the boat upon which we started, we walked across the little Scotch village of Ardrishaig, which is the eastern or Clyde terminus of CriDan Canal, and we embarked upon a little toy steamer, which floated lightly upon the clear wafers of the rock-curbed Canal, and which, with all of its surround ings, was upon such a diminutive scale that we seemed to have been suddenly transferred to Fairy Land. A placard warned passengers against throwing pence to the children upon the banks, which was unintelligible, until the little cockle shell having steamed up and commenced puffing along its narrow channels, an escort of some twenty ragged Highland boys formed in Indian file upon the banks, and keeping exactly abreast of the steam er, made the air reverberate with the most piteous entreaties for ‘*A penny, please! A penny, please! A penny, gude sirs! A penny, please!” The passengers, for their own amuse ment and without the slightest impulses of charity, would toss a penny at a time from the deck upon the bank, and the ravenous avidity with which the entire crew would dart at it, gave proof that pence among them held the proportions of pounds amoDg others. They followed the steamer five miles, frequently pur suing a copper, in an undistinguishable struggling mass, down to the very waters’ edge, to the no small danger of their own lives and to the shouting merriment of the passengers. The water in the Canal, unexpectedly failing, we rode and walked about four miles to the Western terminus, where, at length, we boarded the last steamer for Oban. This flourishing town is the capital of the Western Highlands and beautifully situated upon a Bay capable of accommodating a fleet of 300 ships. It is the headquarters of all Scottish tourists in the North-western part of the Island, and a most charming month may be spent at its splendid hotels, making it the “point d’appui” for excur sions, thence to Staffa and Lona, to the Western Islands or up the great Caledo nian Canal to Inverness; of which ex cursions we went upon the last men tioned. If my reader wiil look at a section map of Great Britain, he will perceive that the Northern part of Scotland is nearly a large Island, washed upon the North and West by the Atlantic Ocean ; upon the East by the North Sea or German Ocean, and upon the South by a chain of four Lakes, connected together by artificial waters. These Lakes are Loch Linuhe, (the South-western terminus), Loch Eil, Loch Lochy, Loch Oich and Loch Ness. These, with their connecting canals, con stitute the great Caledonian Canal, of which the North-eastern terminus is In verness, the Capital of the Northern Highlands. No tourist should fail to avail himself of an excursion ticket, commencing at Glasgow and carrying him over the route described, via the Caledonian Canal to Inverness, thence down the Highland Railway, through the Pass of Kiliiecrankie to Calavider > and thence, by Lock Katrine, the Tros sachs and Loch Lomond to Edinburgh. O The evening shadows were drawing down the curtains of day close around the lonely mountains, as we shot swiftly over the smooth bosom of the beautiful High land lake. Like most of these, it is a long narrow sheet of water, with the mountains rising abruptly from the grass-covered banks and swelling in the most glorious rolling slopes, tier upon tier of natural terraces, until—far, far away, up among the clouds—the clear-cut outline reposed in majestic serenity against the empyrean dome. Here and there, a shepherd’s hut hung suspended from the mountain side, but usually the natural wildness of the scenery was undisturbed by human abodes. For a good while, I was de ceived by, what I thought to be, white flint rocks scattered about over the sur face and flecking the deep green back ground with an cccasional flake as though of driven snow. The moving about of the tiny white spots excited my curiosity, and a good glass soon developed them into countless flocks of sheep, grazing upon the mountains. They are not very large, but seemed to be hardy and in ex cellent condition, and the flocks, number less as they were, occupied a very small proportion of the vast pasture upon which they and their progenitors for a thousand years had grazed. Nighu had hidden mountain and lake alike in darkness as we came to halt Fort William, and, after a hard struggle, secured a bed at “Banavie Inn." The first sight which met our gaze, next morning, was the towering peak of Ben Nevis, springing precipi tiously into the air 4,406 feet, and now acknowledged to be the highest moun tain in Scotland. Let not the tourist who follows in my tracks attempt its ascent without a good guide. There's danger in it! Every foot of our journey here has its swarm of traditionary aDd historical incidents connected with it. Inverlochy Castle, on the left was the scene of a erreat rout of King James, the Ist, by Donald of the Isles, and here, too, the traveler who has read the “Legend of Montrose” by Sir Walter Scott, will be interested to know that the decisive battle was fought, in which the Marquis of Argyle was defeated with great slaughter by James, Marquis of Mon trose, when "Faint the din of battle brayed, Distant down the hollow wind ; W T ar and terror lied before, Wounds aLd death remained behind.” We are now upon Loch Lochy. ten miles long, with its shores thickly wood ed with undergrowth, in the dense re cesses of which Prince Charles Edward, the Pretender, found many a hidden place, in the stormy days of “45 !” Upon the shores of Loch Oieh, the next link in the chain, he assembled his army before entering the Lowlands. I could have fancied myself transported in person back to those turbulent times, as a stalwart Highlander in full costume, strode up and down the deck, evidentlv deeming himself “the observed of all observers.” A Scotch Cap surmounted his head, a many-striped kilt covered his body, and, by means of its skirt, concealed, without protecting his legs down to a small distance above the knee, while his hairy skin was exposed from this poiut to his socks, gartered by brilliant transverse bands, and finished off by a pair of low-quartered shoes. I ought not to omit the dirk whose handle protruded from between his sock and the calf of his leg, nor the hair covered pouch, which hung suspended from his belt, in front of his body. In cold weather, the great national costume, the Tartan, a large plaid, worn as an over-garment, completed the above description of a Highland Dandy. The last of the Lakes, Loch Ness, extends nearly 24 miles and is remarkable for its immense depth, in some cases reaching 1,000 feet. The swift little steamer makes a t ippage of three fourths of an hour at “Foyers’ Pier,” upon the right, in order to allow Tourists to visit the “Falls of Foyers.'' These are situated “about" a mile from the Landing. I Italize the the about , because I found in this, as in many other instances in Scotland that “about one mile” meant more than two. If you wish to see them (and they are worth it !) avail yourself of the vehicles as far as they will carry you. The walk up the precipitous mountain side and the descent into the ravine, whence only you can see the Falls, followed by a “da capo” of both is a feat not to be undertaken by any but. a Tourist of good wind and strong, as well as fleet legs. The first Fall is 40 feet high, the second 90, and the last is the finest cascade in Bri tain. Muirtown, a suburb of Inverness is the termination of the great Canal, of which the artificial cuttings amount to 22 miles with an average depth of 20 feet. It is a glorious work and a magnificent monument of British en terprise. Inverness, the long established Capital of the Highlands of Scotland is an ele gant and beautiful town, which seems strangely incongruous, in its paved streets, gas-lights, fine stone mansions and splendid county buildings, with the wild mountain fastnesses which sur round it. The view from the Castle (now County Court-house) is indescribably grand. In the neighborhood, 5 miles distant is Culloden Moor, where the sun of the last Stuart went down in deepest gloom. The journey by the Highland Rail way from Inverness to Dunblane is an uninterrupted panorama of the loveliest and, at times, the most magnificent scenery in all Scotland. The Railroad passes through the far-famed Pass of Kiliiecrankie, where Viscount Dundee won the battle ana lost his life, and the wild Highland glens teem with associa tions in History, Poetry and Music. At Dunblane, a branch Road took us to Callender, a small to\Vn from which Coaches start to carry Tourists to the most celebrated of the Scottish Lakes. We ought to have posted ourselves fully upon Sir Walter Scot’s “Lady of the Lake,” in order to apply his descriptions to their originals, for the scene of that exquisite creation of his imagination is laid all along the route from Callender to Loch Lomond. Only a blind man could fail to be charmed by the accumu lated interest which the sight of the scenery gives to the Poem; while only an illiterate one could avoid seeing new beauties in the book of Nature by the aid of the almost divine power of the “Great Wizard of the North.” A seat upon the top of a sort of ha If-wagon and half-omnibus gave us an unbroken view of Landscape, which is surpassingly beautiful. The road leads, approaching the fumous Bridge of Turk, to the -lop of a hill, from which the lovely little Loch Archray burst fully into sight, and as we thundered across the river, each one repeated silently, “And when the Brigg of Turk was won, The headmost horseman rode alone!” Saturday night brought us, after four hoars on the Omnibus-wagon, to tho Trossachs’ Hotel built on the very water’s edge of Loch Archray. After a quiet Sunday in this lonely but enchantingly beautiful spot, we rode over to the shores of Loch Katrine early on Monday Morning. I put in here a word of practi cal advice to any reader who may follow in my tracks. The stage-driver from Callender to Loch Katrine are in the habit of levying a ü black mail” upon travelers, in addition to their already pre-paid fare. These swindling scamps should not be indulged to the amount of a solitary penny, however much they may bully you. Loch Katrine is among the loveliest of all of the lakes of earth. The deep, dark water is unruffled by a breath of air, the solemn mountain peaks, stand like mighty sentinels to preserve the death like stillness of the scene ; small, densely grown islands here and there variegate the surface of the water and the most beautiful of them ail is the sweet Ellen’s Isle, where, ‘ The Stranger viewed the shore around; ’Twas all so close with copsewood bound, Nor track nor pathway might declare That human foot frequented there” [Lady of the Lake. Another nondescript vehicle which trans ported us across the ridge which separates the Western end of Loch Katrine from the Northern end of Loch Lomond. The road terminates at lnversaid Hotel some distance below the head of the Lake, but the Steamer carries you up to the Northern extremity of Loch Lomond and returns its whole length in the same day. Hero Rob Roy, the wild Highland Chieftain, ruled with undisputed sway, and a hole in the hillside on the shores of the Loch is poi Redout, both as Rob Roy’s Cave, and as a hiding-place of King Robert Bruce after the battle of Dalree. Coming on down the Lake, we may stop at Rowardennon Pier, at which Tourists d’sembark in order to ascend Ben Lomond, a magnificent mountain, looming up 3,19*2 feet above the level of the Sea. At Balloch Pier, at the foot of the lake, we took the Cars for Glasgow, bat leaving the main trunk, got upon the Edinburgh train and drove up Princes Street in time for a good supper in what the Scotch delight in calling “Auld Reekie.” So terminates five days in the High lands of Scotland. I would advise any Tourist who may follow me over this really charming excursion to make up his mind to encounter many keen and obstinate attempts to swindle him. The Highlanders are very poor : they firmly believe Tourists to be, all of them, very rich : and, so, upon the principle that this unequal distribution of the gifts of Fortune, is an unjust one, they have but one tarriff of charges for Travelers : viz \just as much as they can possibly extort 1 At the same time, a firm, cool and perfectly just settlement of their claims is commonly succumbed to, with very good grace. No Kule is as ab solutely unexceptional as to make all bargains beforehand I Never leave an inch of margin as to anv after-charges for service rendered. 5