THUfiSO TO HELMSDALE. 53 



The mountain burns, which soon began to run 

 right viciously, made " music in our sorrow" ; and as 

 the moon sailed out from behind a cloud, and shone 

 on the long pools which were fast gathering by the 

 roadside, they seemed like polar bears craftily steal- 

 ing along. We hailed the mail-road at Lybster 

 and the roar of the sea as quite old friends, and felt a 

 little comforted. As for the mare, she was like a whole 

 troop of them rolled into one. Though she had only 

 been with us two days, she had got so accustomed to 

 our voice, that, if we fell a little behind, she would 

 stop when she was spoken to, and look round, first 

 to the near and then to the off-side, in the gloom, to 

 be sure we were at hand . Weariness at length defied 

 all face-washing at the roadside springs, and two 

 hours of that night are best accounted for in the 

 preface. Be that as it may, the mist "wreaths began 

 to curl lazily up the deep mountain ravines, and away 

 to that vast, granite deer " forest" behind. Morning 

 broke, and the rain was gone, and the rainbow was 

 spanning the Berriedale valley. There were all the 

 varied purples of the heather, and the rich green 

 livery of fir and larch, to brace us up for the dreaded 

 Ord of Caithness; and the mail, as it rattled cheer- 

 fully past us, was quite "the missing link" with 

 mankind. Morayshire, on the opposite coast, looked 

 like the outline of a new world, beyond a calm, blue- 

 dimpled sea ; and as we rounded the last crag near 

 Helmsdale, the gently curving sands of Sutherland lay 

 at our feet, white and warm in the early sunshine. 



