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 



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 amancr 



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 



J 5 



