ON THE COAST OF ARRAN 111 



CHAPTER XII 



The ocean with its vastness, its blue green, 

 Its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears, 

 Its voice mysterious, which whoso hears 



Must think on what will be, and what has been. 



JOHN KEATS, To my Brother George. 



CORBIE : Friday, August 22. 



A CONSIDEBABLE part of the last few days has 

 been spent alone and on the water. And here 

 is the Log. The voyage was from the Clyde to 

 the Mersey, and back again. At three o'clock 

 in the afternoon we leave Corrie by a returning 

 steamer, and make straight for Garroch Head, 

 the southern promontory of Bute. We keep 

 our faces turned towards that white house on 

 the shore which has now acquired for us some- 



