CHAPTER VIII 

 WESTERN WATERS 



TIME, four in the afternoon ; and the " shower 

 peculiar to the country " has been going on since 

 morning with more than usual persistency. Every 

 indentation in the hillside, every gutter in the 

 road, the very foot-paths themselves, are tem- 

 porarily transformed into rivulets, swelling the 

 burns into turbid torrents which are pouring their 

 tribute into the river, which in its turn has begun 

 to " wax," a fact apparent to the initiated eye 

 from the grass, sticks, and leaves which are float- 

 ing on its surface towards the bay. It is a day 

 which would drive a Frenchman to suicide, but it 

 does not seem to make much impression upon the 

 stolid farmer who has already turned his hay four 

 times, and will certainly have to do so at least 

 once more before carrying it, but who bears his 

 misfortunes with a resignation engendered by 

 custom ; or upon the old wife trudging slowly 

 along the road with her petticoats rather high- 

 kilted, and a huge umbrella over her head, and 

 who gives vent as she passes me to the undeni- 

 able and expressive monosyllable " Saft." 



136 



