We see that “Cook” is advertising his usual excursions to Switzerland and Paris in view of the Fair holidays, but, whilst we would not urge anyone not to go, having been there and enjoyed them, ourselves, to those who have neither the time nor the money to go any great distance we would say that we are old enough fashioned to believe that this “nice little, tight little, island” of our own contains within its rocky shores as wondrous a combination and as great a variety of scenery as can be found in any portion of the Continent of Europe twice its extent and surface. We back Great Britain and Ireland, not omitting even the adjacent islands of the Great and Little Cumbraes, against the world for possessing the richest treasures of all that is grand, beautiful, and lovable in nature. Indeed, none should cross the Channel till they are tolerably well acquainted with the chief things worth seeing at home. But, to come to particulars, we back not only this country against the rest of the world, but we back Scotland against England and Ireland, and “Arran’s Isle” against the rest of Scotland. Have you been to Arran? If not, you cannot go to soon; and, as you must ascend Goatfell, the best thing to do is to steer your course to Brodick. Everyone will ask you if you have been to the top of Goatfell. In fact, the question is so universal that, having failed in our first attempt, we found it advisable whenever we referred afterwards to having been at Arran to add, “but I did not ascend Goatfell.” Take the early morning train from the Central or St. Enoch to Ardrossan, and crossing over to Brodick pull your hat well down on your head, for, though the captain has a kindly way with him, he’ll not turn back for any hat that goes overboard. He may only tell you, as we once heard another skipper tell a man further up the Clyde who had lost his headpiece, “You shouldn’t travel with a quick boat if you don’t want to lose your bonnet.” On landing admire the fine sweep of the bay on to and beyond the big castle among the trees, chief outward token of the supremacy of the Hamilton family in the past. On passing the handsome hotel built by the late Duke, and standing in the midst of its own beautiful and carefully kept grounds, you have time to look on the face of an old friend, Lord Brougham, a true lithograph written on stone, on the top of the hills to the left of Goatfell. That row of houses on the left a little way off the road in the English style of architecture is “The Alma.” But whether it is so called because erected during the Crimean War, or because in ancient times there stood there one of the forts that formed the chain which girdled the whole coast of the island, deponent sayeth not. The next group of houses is Invercloy, where, if you have not already a thick staff or Alpine pole, you may provide yourself with one, and lay aside till your return any superfluous clothing.