92 <I(AfMBLES OF A VOtMINIS 



hollow was hung with tiny ferns. Slabs of rock that 

 had fallen from the roof were scored with ripple-marks 

 footprints on the sands of time that wind or wave, 

 long ages since, left by the margin of some ancient sea. 

 The blue smoke from our fire of driftwood crept slowly 

 up the hill as if to join, round the far summit, the 

 floating canopy of cloud. Regretfully we lingered on the 

 shore, as the light of sunset, scattering for a space the 

 dark mass of vapour, shone like a glory round the heads 

 of giant mountains, and died. in lines of crimson on the 

 water. The great cliff wall across the loch seemed to 

 draw near and menace us with sullen frown. A string 

 of wild-fowl flying over startled us with the rush of 

 shadowy wings. Then, like a signal of welcome, shone 

 out against the sombre steep the sudden glimmer of the 

 anchor-light. 



It is pleasant to linger on white-letter days ; on 

 days when skies were blue and winds were fair ; days 

 of clear cold dawning crowned by sunset splendour; 

 days of swift sailing down the Sound of Sleat, 

 through the narrow reaches of Kyle Ehea, under sunlit 

 steeps of Skye, with their warm flushes of heather, 

 their sweeps of bright green fern, their tiny glens 

 where, among feathery birches, flash down the rushing 

 streams. 



But no less fondly will the memory linger over the 

 " Days of danger, nights of waking." He who in 

 tranquil weather has anchored in Loch Hourn, who 

 has watched the drifting cloud-shadows loiter along 

 the calm brows of the mountains, has seen the green 



