THE STACK. 183 



up with innumerable small lochs (liker ponds than lakes), 

 commonly so called. There were, however, some fine 

 mountain ranges within view. It was latish in the even- 

 ing before we reached Scourie, where, as the landlady was 

 aware of our intended arrival, we found everything in 

 very good order, with each a separate bed. On Friday 

 and Saturday we drove back each day about six or seven 

 miles of the road by which we had arrived, as far as Lax- 

 ford Bridge, where there is excellent fishing. Our car- 

 riage and horses waited for us at a shepherd's hut, and 

 then we drove back to Scourie to a late evening dinner, 

 cakes and milk being attainable in the meantime by 

 such as wished them. For myself, I was net in fishing 

 order, on account of the rheumatism in my arm and 

 shoulder, but I tried to be useful to the others, and con- 

 trived to pick up a few insects. I am now almost entirely 

 free from pain. We enjoyed some very striking views by 

 ascending a mountain, or at least a part of it, called 

 Stack, not far from Laxford. We were at one time 

 entirely enveloped in clouds, but still kept creeping along 

 the mountain side, when suddenly the clouds dispersed, 

 or at least opened wide their aerial windows, and shewed 

 us a beautiful valley well clothed with birch woods, with 

 a far-spreading lake in the distance. At the same 

 moment a magnificent rainbow spanned the valley from 

 side to side, and as the clouds rolled along we saw from 



