lineaments of the fields were hardly more than The 

 long wave-lines on a calm sea ; the only heights Mountain 

 were heaps of 'shag' by old mines, scattered arm * 

 columnar chimney-stacks. The man had trod 

 far afoot, and was eager for work. I told him 

 to go on toward the pass for about a mile, and 

 then to a big farm he would see to his right, 

 and ask there, and probably he would get 

 work and good pay. Some three hours later 

 I was returning by the same road, and again 

 met the wayfarer, but southward set. I asked 

 him why he had turned, for I knew labour 

 was wanted at the farm, and the man was 

 strong, and seemed willing, and was of decent 

 mien. " No," he said, " he had not got work 

 up yonder." I knew he prevaricated, and he 

 saw it. With sudden candour he added, " It's 

 no the good man at the farm — nor the work — 

 nor the pay. It's just this : I'm fair clemmed 

 at the sight o' yon hills ... eh, but they're 

 just dreidful. I couldna' abide them. They're 

 na human. I've felt it all along since I cam 

 up beyont the Ochils, but it's only the now 

 I've kent weel I couldna' live here amang 

 them." " Weel, first and foremost," he added, 

 when I pressed him further, "it's the silence. 

 It fair kills me. An' what's more, it would 

 kill me if I stayed. The wife up yonder gave 

 me a sup o' milk an' a bannock, an' when I 



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