228 HILLSIDE, ROCK, AND DALE 



summer sun lighting up this wild fairy scene, the 

 calls from a thousand birds, deep, deep down ; a 

 pipit piping on the cliff, a tiny noise in the chorus ; 

 a peregrine sailing landwards, and the glory of the 

 sparkling sea, and over all the screaming crescent- 

 winged swifts now round the rock, and presently 



TANTALLON CASTLE : HAUNT OF THE SWIFT 



darting towards their nests on Tantallon's crumbling 

 walls, make a fascinating scene one is loath to leave. 

 But all too quickly the summer day passes, and a 

 call from the heights above reminds us that our time 

 has expired ; and thus ascending to the top of the 

 rock we see the white sail of our little boat gleaming 

 in the rays of the setting sun ; it is just leaving the 



