A GREY city in a green valley, Glasgow was fathered by its Clyde. On a hill above a river rose its Cathedral; by the banks of a deepened stream grew commerce that has sent ships and men stravaiging to the far seas. At the Broomielaw it seems a current of not enough significance to have made "Clyde built" a world-wide pride. Yet the purposes of men who toiled by that Clyde

were informed by a character inherently their own. That spirit, vehemently commercial it may be, and on the surface unromantic too - was excellently communicated to the stones of the city they built. It is a character that broods over its streets almost indefinably, to be appreciated best out of intimacy with its traditions, though the outsider senses it for himself. Glasgow has its commercial greatness, and withal, its charm; its queer old corners, that touch sentiment for its past, cheek by jowl with its vigorous modernity of shop windows. To seize the communal mood that gives its unity to the city is less ready to the writer’s province than to the artist's. To him the opportunity of capturing the tone that wraps the city in its kindly mantle. His pencil, when moved by a fine and subtle sympathy like Mr Robert Eadie's, finds the graciousness that makes Glasgow lovable, and ever an unforgettable memory for the exile. In this book are glimpses of the city as they flash upon one who wanders with knowledge through its streets. That it springs from the printing presses of a sister city makes it a tribute to Glasgow all the more appreciable and sincere.

ROBINS MILLAR