HAR VEST SHO WERS. 37 1 



before him ; gathers himself together, and with a responsive toss 

 of his head and a lively play of ears, goes along at rather more 

 than his average speed until the next stage is reached ; knowing 

 full well that the hand that laid on that serpent-like lash so 

 tenderly, can lay it on in very different fashion, hot and heavy 

 enough when occasion calls. Or, dropping metaphor, let us state 

 the matter plainly, thus : Here in Lochaber, and we suppose it is 

 just the same over all the Highlands, when really fine weather 

 comes, we are for the first few days up and doing, busy enough. 

 But as one fine day succeeds another, we are very ready to fall into 

 the error that after all it is best to take things leisurely. Where's 

 the need, we ask ourselves, for so much hurry and bustle 1 The 

 fine weather has lasted a week ; it may last a month, is indeed 

 likely so to last; it is no more like rain to-day than it was 

 yesterday ; and thus we lapse, often unconsciously, perhaps, into 

 a spirit of dilatoriness and procrastination, out of which only a 

 lowering sky, and a shower that for all we know may become a 

 flood, can fairly rouse us. You slept long, for instance, this 

 morning ; you dawdled over your porridge and milk at breakfast 

 time, and it is now noonday. But see ! the heavens yonder in the 

 north-west are suddenly overcast; an ominous gloom creeps over 

 the Outer Hebrides ; a few drops of ram have already fallen, one 

 on the back of your left hand, on which placing the index finger of 

 your right, you can find that it is wet, that it is rain ; a second on 

 your cheek with a soft, tepid thud ; and a third right into your open, 

 uplifted eye, and you straightway start into activity and life. All 

 hands on deck ! is the cry. You rush into the field amongst the 

 stocks ; you bustle about cheerily, and calling all hands into your 

 service, for idlers are now out of place, you cart and carry away as 

 ftist as -you can into your barn or stack-yard, and by sunset, so 

 expeditiously have you worked, that the field from head-rig to 

 head-rig is but bare and stookless stubble. It was after all but a 



