The new lairds include many excellent and cultivated men well worthy to take their place among the older families. Their command of wealth enables them to improve their estates, and to beautify their houses in a way which was impossible for the impoverished owners whom they have replaced; their taste has created centres of art and culture, and their public spirit and philanthropy are to be seen in the churches, schools, and village-reading rooms which they have erected, and in the good roads which they have made where none existed before. On the other hand, among their number are some of whom the less said the better, and who make their way chiefly in those circles of society wherein ‘a man of wealth is dubbed a man of worth.’ Many incidents have been put in circulation regarding the race of coal and iron-masters who, starting as working miners, have made large fortunes in the west of Scotland. A good number of these tales are probably entirely mythical, others, though founded on some original basis of fact, have been so improved in the course of narration, that they must be looked upon as mainly fabulous. Yet the alterations have generally kept to the spirit of the story, and represent the current estimate of the character and habits of the individual round whom the legend has gathered. According to one of these tales a wealthy iron-master called on a country squire and was ushered into the library. He had never seen such a room before, and was much impressed with the handsome cases and the array of well-bound volumes that filled their shelves. The next time he went to Glasgow he made a point of calling at a well-known bookseller’s, when the following conversation is reported to have taken place. ‘I want you to get me a leebrary.’ ‘Very well, Mr. ---- I’ll be very pleased to supply you with books. Can you give me any list of such books as you would like?’ ‘Ye ken mair aboot buiks than I do, so you can choose them yoursell.’ ‘Then you leave the selection entirely to me. Would you like them bound in Russia or Morocco?’ ‘Russia or Morocco! can ye no get them bund in Glasco’.’ [Sidenote: A WEALTHY IRON-MASTER] One of these men went to see Egypt, and took with him as a kind of guide and companion, an artist of some note. When they came to the Great Pyramid, the magnate stood looking at it for a time, and in turning away remarked to his friend, ‘Man, whatna rowth o’ mason-wark not to be fetchin’ in ony rent!’ On the same occasion the iron-master, now getting tired of sight-seeing, was with some difficulty persuaded to cross over and see the Red Sea. He made no observation at the time, nor on the way back, but after getting to bed he found vent for his ill humour. Opening the mosquito curtains, he blurted out to the artist, who occupied another bed in the same room, ‘D’ye ca’ yon the Red Sea? It’s as blue as ony sea I ever saw in my life. Gude nicht.’