ON THE COAST OF AEEAN 163 



the sky, and we get sight of the sea beyond 

 North Sannox, and of the hills near to it, the 

 latter being clothed in that wondrous aerial tint 

 which is a mixture of grey, purple, and green, 

 and which no man knows better how to paint 

 than our old friend Clarence Whaite. 



As we are descending the crags westward in 

 search of the saddle a dark mist falls, and with 

 it comes the rain. We can hardly see a foot 

 before us, and dare not proceed. We are crag- 

 bound, and creep into a narrow crevice for 

 shelter. It is bitterly cold ; and when we can 

 stand still no longer, we come out of our hiding- 

 place and pace about like sentries over the few 

 feet of level ground that is available. Every 

 instant there is some faint change, and the 

 crags around us alternate in colour from black 

 to grey. These crags are of the most fantastic 

 shapes, and the mist works witchery upon them. 

 We see all sorts of things cowled monks, 

 gargoyle heads with portentous noses, Don 



M 2 



