I A Gossip on a Sutherland Hill-side 2 1 1 



patches of oats, trying to look ripe and failing most 

 dismally in the attempt ; past little fields, half arable, 

 half pasture, where the cow feeds tended by the bit 

 bareleggit lassie, wet through already, but caring 

 nothing for wet now, whatever she may do when 

 she finds herself a wrinkled crone at forty, bent 

 double with rheumatism. Then through the fresh 

 sweet birch coppice, where the * Ladies of the wood ' 

 are tossing their lithe arms, and sprinkling sweet 

 odours and sparkling raindrop gems on every side ; 

 where the blackcock whirrs up and sails away on 

 his strong-beating wings, and the daintily tripping roe 

 crosses the road shyly, seeking her cosy lair, among 

 the sweet bog myrtle and warm tussock grass, after 

 her night's marauding among the oats. — Then a 

 moment's pause to pick up Jeemie the gillie, and 

 Clebric the muckle deer-hound, and out on to the 

 great brown moor. 



Something like the character of the people, serious 

 and cheerful at once, quiet and reserved in general 

 tone, but with bright patches of vivid green and bits 

 of rarely-scented shrub here and there ; lighted up 

 with little eyes of water moist and gleaming as those 

 of a girl, who has been crying for sheer happiness 

 and breaks into a smile amidst her tears. Light 

 and shade, rigid fanaticism and wild poetical fervour 

 alternating in fitful gleams ; the light at any rate 

 predominating among those slim well-grown lassies 

 and lither lads rattling on before us at a hand-gallop, 

 going to gather in their marsh hay. Pass them we 



