270 LOCH CRERAtf. 



All through the long-continued gale of last week the 

 barometers of the district had kept steadily rising, and at 

 last Monday, 22nd, dawned with a mild, cheerful, promis- 

 ing countenance, and the glass over 30 inches. The boat 

 was taken over to the " Port " ere the sea should leave it 

 half a mile inland these spring tides, and our friend was 

 hailed for a day on the water. Fine morning, high glass 

 rising, too, through a gale, as if to promise a fine spell 

 all looked hopeful for a pleasant day. And yet we 

 shook our heads and spoke ominously. The gulls are in 

 a group in front of the cottage, and are evidently "out of 

 their ordinary," and we cannot rid ourselves of the belief 

 that something severe is coming. They have not scattered 

 since the last gale, suggests an authority, and that does 

 not appear unreasonable, for its tail has just brushed the 

 dead leaves into the ditches, and their rustle has scarcely 

 died upon the ear. But we still shake our heads as we 

 step on board and pull across the loch. 



We have not been long away when the clouds begin 

 to bank gloomily towards the South, and a strange weight 

 gathers around the sky; while we have no sooner reached 

 the other side than the wind sharpens, and rises with a 

 vicious touch in it that looks as if it meant something. 

 " The glass over 30 inches, and rising, this morning ! " 

 we repeat, as we find the widgeon and the mallard, the 

 golden-eye and the cormorant, as excited and restless as 

 the redshank-sandpiper and the oyster-catcher we left on 

 our own shore ! But by the time we have been an hour 

 away it is clear that the birds were right and the baro- 

 meter wrong, and that the spirit of the storm is marshall- 

 ing his batallions from every side. A great gloom is over 

 the loch as we hurry homeward in the teeth of the now- 

 rising gale, and we scarce dare halt to pick up the poor 



