ON THE COAST OF ARRAN 173 



we could afford to play with the big waves that 

 came racing up and then sprang headlong over 

 the rocky barrier behind which we were waiting 

 for them. 



As we walked slowly along the road, in the 

 middle of the forenoon, on our way to the quiet 

 little kirk, we found ourselves dwelling upon 

 every feature of the place with a tenderness 

 which implied an impending farewell. The sea, 

 the sky, the woods, are full of gladsome life and 

 motion. The deep blue water is dotted now all 

 over with white waves, which come dancing in 

 from what is always to me the joyous north ; 

 the sun is hot, though the wind is cool; the 

 anchored boats toss in the harbour ; and the 

 cattle, with an evident sense of pleasure, are 

 feeding on the grassy margin of the tide. 



In the evening, as there will be now no other 

 opportunity, two of us start for the Fallen 

 Kocks. The walk is a familiar one as far as 

 the wooden bridge over the South Sannox burn. 



