Tick-Tock " Talk 



and straw, and perhaps a handful now 

 and then of linseed cake, go into 

 Aberdeenshire, or Angus or Forfar and 

 learn of the simple yet effective pro- 

 cesses with which these northern wiz- 

 ards work. 



I know that I once lived in ancient 

 Northumbria and afterwards in Scot- 

 land, just as I am equally sure that I 

 passed through one former life some- 

 where along the flanks of the Blue 

 Ridge Mountains. I never visit either 

 that I am not possessed by a sense of 

 attachment, a feeling that these scenes 

 are most familiar and most intensely 

 dear to me. Sometimes I think that 

 I belong there still. I imagine that I 

 could be happy anywhere within sight 

 of Durham Cathedral or in the valley of 

 the Tees or near the Grampians, the 

 Hills of Lammermoor, or on either 

 side of those lofty, rounded, wooded 

 heights that separate Kentucky and 

 Tennessee from the Old Dominion. 

 "The call of the blood," I suppose, this 



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