The Last Lnitckeo7t. 325 



notice prohibiting loads beyond two tons from crossing. 

 It was a light iron structure (perhaps a Tay blunder 

 upon a small scale). The wind was whistling like a 

 fiend about our ears as it came roaring down the glen ; 

 all pleasant while we were in the woods skirting the 

 river with our backs to it, but when we turned to cross 

 it seemed as if we should be blown bodily from the top 

 of the coach. Everything was taken off the top, and 

 we all dismounted. Perry and Joe drove over, while we 

 all walked, some of us on the lee side of the coach for 

 shelter, and in a few minutes we were so sheltered in 

 the glen again as scarcely to know there was a breath of 

 air stirring; but these "Highland homes where tem- 

 pests blow " know what gales are. We have had great 

 blows now and then at some high points crossing the 

 moors, for the hills you rarely cross ; these you have to 

 avoid, but to-day was the only time we were compelled 

 to dismount. 



We had not far to drive before we reached the 

 pretty little burn which falls into the Findhorn, the 

 spot selected for the last luncheon. 



This spot seemed made to order ; the burn, the fire, 

 the mossy grass, the wild river, the moor and glen, 

 all here. Down sat the Charioteers for the last happy 

 luncheon together. We were all so dangerously near 

 the brink of sad regret that a bold effort was neces- 

 sary to steer clear of thoughts which pressed upon 

 us. We had to laugh for fear we might cry, the 



