296 Four -in- Hand in Britain. 



"Aye, maan, it would hae to be a strong meeting 

 that ! " 



Tliat strong was so very strong ; but there will be one 

 strong enough some day, for all that. We cannot stand 

 nonsense forever, patient as we are and slow. 



Dunkeld is the gateway of the Highlands, and we 

 enter it, singing as we pass upward : 



" There are hills beyond Pentland 

 And streams beyond Forth ; 

 If there are lords in the south 

 There are chiefs in the north." 



We are among the real hills at last. Yonder towers 

 Birnam, and here Dunsinane Hill. Mighty master, 

 even here is your shade, and we dwell again in your 

 shadow. The very air breathes of Macbeth, and the 

 murdered Banquo still haunts the glen. How perfectly 

 Shakespeare flings into two words the slow gathering 

 darkness of night in this northern latitude, among the 

 deep green pines : 



" Ere the bat hath flown 

 His cloister'd flight ; ere, to black Hecate's summons, 

 The shard-borne beetle, with his drowsy hum, 

 Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done 



A deed of dreadful note 



. . . . Light thickens ; and the crow 

 Makes wing to the rooky wood : 

 Good things of day begin to droop and drowse ; 

 Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouse." 



