Bruar Water. 305 



which have pushed themselves through the narrow de- 

 files, we get miles and miles in the glens along the ever- 

 changing streams ; but it is too level for pedestrianism 

 unless we reduce the pace of the coach and walk the 

 horses. It is after a two hours' climb up the glen to see 

 such a waterfall as the Bruar that we return to the coach, 

 feeling, as we mount to our seats, that we have done our 

 duty. We were many miles from our lunching site, and 

 long ere it was reached we were overtaken by the moun- 

 tain hunger. When we arrived at the house on the 

 moors where entertainment had been promised us, it was 

 to find that it had been rented for the season for a shoot- 

 ing-box by a party of English gentlemen, who were to 

 arrive in a few days for their annual sport — the slaughter 

 of the carefully preserved birds. The people, however, 

 were very kind, and gave us the use of the house. Few 

 midday halts gave rise to more gayety than this, but 

 there is one item to be here recorded which is peculiar 

 to this luncheon. For the first and only time the stew- 

 ardess had to confess that her supplies were exhausted. 

 Due allowance, she thought, had been made for the ef- 

 fects of Highland air, but the climb to Bruar, "or the 

 brunt of the weather," had produced an unusual demand. 

 The very last morsel was eaten, and there seemed a fla- 

 vor of hesitancy in the assurance some of us gave her 

 that we wished for nothing more. There was not even 

 one bite left for the beautiful collies we saw there. 



Has the amount and depth of affection which a woman 



