The Ochil range--memorial of fierce volcanic action when the lower old red sandstone was being deposited in the inland lake which stretched from east to west across the Lowlands of Scotland, and away southward without a break to the southern uplands, close to the border of England;--this Ochil range, which means high ground, as Glenogle means high glen, bounds our view to the south-east. It has no towering peaks, but Bencleuch and its neighbour, King Seat, command magnificent panoramic views to north and south from an elevation of 2000 feet. The gap before us is Gleneagles,--Glen-eccles--Kirk glen--one of the passes into the Lowlands of Fife and Kinross, by which, it may be, Agricola found his way into Strathearn after the conquest of Fife. In the very heart of the Ochils its name changes from Gleneagles to Glendevon. Here again we are upon classic ground--in the vale of the clear winding Devon, which more than any other stream recalls Yarrow with its hills green to the top and its pastoral melancholy. And let me note the fact that here, too, is the tiniest and daintiest parish church in Scotland--the outpost of the Presbytery of Auchterarder in this direction. Between us and the gap, but much nearer the gap, is a bit of rising ground, running eastward almost parallel with the Ochils, with a downward slope from west to east, upon which may be seen, if the atmosphere is clear, smoking chimneys and a faint ruddy hue, as if with the memory of tiles now discarded for the prosaic if more permanent roofing slate. That is the "lang toon" of Auchterarder, climbing up the slope somewhat after the fashion of the Canongate and High Street of Edinburgh, not so conspicuously or hurriedly, however, as if aware that there was no Castle Rock from which to view the fertile Strath below. An ancient place, truly, pedigreed, but by no means penniless, the Presbytery seat, famous in ecclesiastical annals for its creed, crotchets, and conflicts; resonant, too, in profane history for its fifty drawbridges--the gift of the imagination and pawky Scotch humour of George Buchanan, Latinist, publicist, and tutor to that high and mighty Prince, the British Solomon, James I. of England and VI. of Scotland. The drawbridges are no more, for the "lang toon" is a burgh now, with a douce Provost of its own, and Bailies, and such like novel things and persons. But this we cannot tell from our present standpoint, and we might easily persuade ourselves this afternoon that Auchterarder has suffered no sea change, were it not that every now and again the columns of our local newspaper foam under the rage of its municipal contendings.