150 THE MOORS AND THE MOUNTAINS. 



though sung in the hackneyed strains of dirty boys 

 and blackguard ballad-mongers, are at this moment to 

 me the most inspiring and the most refreshing subjects 

 of reflection. Many a time have I looked at the lassie's 

 lock of golden hair ; many a time, on the barren sum- 

 mits of the everlasting hills, have I hung over it and 

 prayed that the sweet head from which it was severed 

 might be protected from evil. When the sun rose and 

 scattered the mountain vapours, which in our Alpine 

 habitations sometimes lay low beneath our feet, I thought 

 how the sweet summits of Blackford would be also 

 brightened by his beams ; and when the golden splen- 

 dour of the west, with its magnificent array of purple 

 mountains, the 'dark Loch-na-gar' and the giant peaks 

 of the Cairngorm range, betokened the decline of day, I 

 thought of the reflected light of our own quiet Pentlands, 

 ami how mamma might be sitting at her own sweet 

 window, thinking, perhaps, of her husband who never 

 ceases to think of and to pray for her. Although I 

 should have been truly grateful to have found on my 

 a nival here that my dearest had been keeping well, I 

 had yet so far made up my mind to the probability of 

 hearing the reverse ; and although I was disappointed 

 after all, I fervently hope by this time that the enemy 

 is gone." 



