In Samuel Rutherford's days, the laird of Carleton was a notable 'student of the Spiritual life, and several of Rutherford's Letters are addressed to him. Wodrow, the Church historian, testifies that this laird was particularly skilful in deciding cases of conscience, which seem to have been more common among our earnest living forefathers than with us. But all the lairds of Carleton were not of this stamp. For down from a remote antiquity has come floating to us one of the wildest legends told by the firesides of Scotland. It appears that one of the former dwellers in this stronghold was a very bad man—a sort of " Blue Beard " in his way— whose practice was to marry fair ladies for their money, and then drown them. The place where he drowned them may still be seen by the curious. It is a lofty precipitous crag, called Gamesloup) about two miles farther along the shore. As was the case, however, in the old story of our boyhood, so did it prove with the " fause Sir John." He was beaten at his own game. A .young lady, called May Collean in the ballad, who was destined by him to go the way of ail who had gone before her, cleverly escaped his toils, and substituted himself in her stead.

Fause Sir John a-wooing came
To a maid of beauty rare;
May Collean was this lady's name,
Her father's only heir.

He's courted her but, and he's courted her ben,
And courted her into, the ha',
Until he got the maid's consent
To mount and ride awa'.

She's gane down to her father's stable,
Where a' the steeds did stand,
And she has taken the best steed
That was in her father's land.

He's got on, and she's got on,
And fast as they could flee,
Until they come to a lonesome part—
A rock abune the sea.

"Light down, light down," says fause Sir John,
"Your bridal bed you see;
Here have I drowned seven ladies fair,
The eighth one you shall be.

"Cast off, cast off your jewels fine,
Cast off your silken gown,
They are owre fine and owre costly
To rot in the salt sea foam."

"O turn ye then about, Sir John,
And look to the leaf o' the tree,
For it never became a gentleman
A naked woman to see."

He turned himself straight round about
To look to the leaf o' the tree;
She has twined her arms around his waist,
And thrown him into the sea.

"Now lie you there, thou fause Sir John,
Where ye thought to lay me;
Although ye'd hae stripped me to the skin,
Your claes ye hae gotten wi' ihee."

"O help, O help now, May Collean,
O help, or else I drown;
I'll tak' you hame to your father's gates,
And safely set ye down."

"Nae help, nae help, thou fause Sir John,
Nae help nor pity to thee;
Ye lie not in a caulder bed
Than the ane ye meant for me."

So she went on her father's steed
As fast as she could gae,
And she cam' hame to her father's house
Before it was break of day.

Off these shores there are several rowes or points which are somewhat dangerous to navigation. The two off Lendal are called the Lendal rowes; while there is another, about 4½ miles from Girvan, which was long called Langridge Point, owing to a Revenue Cutter of that name being wrecked on it. One of her carronades was brought to Girvan, and still, I believe, forms the only piece of ordnance available for the defence of that important burgh.

A little past Gamesloup, about 9 miles from Girvan, there is a large cave leading off the sea-shore, called Barcrochan Cove. The access to it is rather difficult, but with a little trouble and a lighted newspaper or two to make the darkness visible, the sight is worth seeing. But the finest cave of the whole is Bennan Covey which has long been used by gypsies for camping in. Bennan Head, which the cave pierces, receives Sir Roderick Murchison's unstinted praise. It is, he says, "a lofty lichen-covered vertical cliff of serpentine and greenstone, which forms as pictorial a scene of igneous rock as any in Scotland." The drawing on the opposite page will give the reader an idea of its appearance. The entrance to the cave is below, while the road is seen winding up the seaward ascent, leaving the beach strewn with fragments of greenstone, which take on a beautiful polish. When Bennan Head is reached, Ballantrae is in sight, with Ailsa, Arran, Cantire, Rathlin, and the hills of Antrim to the right, while the low point of Corsewall, the mouth of Loch Ryan, the green Dounan, and the conical Carlock, fill up the rest of the horizon.