176 ANGLERS' EVENINGS. 



and the mountains look as if they were coming out of the 

 middle of next week. There are five buildings in the 

 place, and about three cottages. I can see the manse and 

 the kirk, the post-office and the school-house from my 

 window ; these, together with one other house, complete 

 the town. The cottages are built of the roughest material ; 

 the more aristocratic have a barrel in the roof by way of 

 a chimney, the rest have only a hole, through which the 

 smoke gets out and the rain gets in. So you perceive 

 that this is by no means a region over- run with streets. 

 People, too, are scarce, and I do not know how the 

 population is to be kept up, for I have only seen four, 

 children (whose principal attire is bare legs) since I 

 came. We are fifteen miles from the nearest shop, and 

 when I think of St. Ann's Square my soul is harrowed up 

 within me. 



I have written two letters, and read a little, and the 

 rain is coming down as obstinately as ever. The landlord 

 and a cowherd are having a subdued conversation in 

 Gaelic under a cart-shed, ^nd comtemplating the scene. 

 Years of this sort of climate no doubt produce a philoso- 

 phic indifference in the bucolic mind. A be-draggled hen 

 is pecking about under an empty wheelbarrow, and a 

 discarded ginger-beer bottle lying just beneath my window 

 inspires me with a feeling of infinite disgust. 



I read a little more, contemplate the outside scene 

 once again, and reflect upon the advisability of water- 

 gruel and mustard-plaisters when the gentlemen return ; 

 presently the handmaiden, Christina, brings in my solitary 

 dinner — Scotch broth, fried trout, mutton cutlet, and 



