CHAPTER VII 



OUT OF THE DEPTHS 



THE West Coast of Scotland has a bad reputa- 

 tion, as having a damp climate ; but, in spite of 

 almanacs and rain-gauges, I believe it has been 

 slandered. In all the autumns I have spent there, 

 I have seldom known it to rain quite enough. 

 Truth compels me to own that I may be preju- 

 diced, as I am an enthusiastic fisherman, and the 

 little river where I love to spend my holidays runs 

 up and down in a few hours, and requires a con- 

 stant succession of "spates" to keep it in order. 

 All, however, must agree that when you do get a 

 really fine day in Argyleshire nothing can be more 

 lovely than the mixture of sea and sky, colour 

 and shadow, that can be seen from the hill-tops. 

 As far as the horizon, land and sea, peak and 

 promontory, stretch out, intersecting one another, 

 so that any one not well acquainted with the 

 country would be puzzled to know which is island 

 and which is mainland, or to realise that what 

 appear to be lakes are really undivided from the 

 broad Atlantic. On the north can be distin- 

 guished the bold outline of Ben Cruachan, clear, 



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