358 A Walk from 



trivance, but seems to be preferred here to the old 

 English pole. I have never seen yet an American 

 scythe-snath in England or Scotland, although so 

 much of our implemental machinery has been intro- 

 duced. American manure-forks and hay-forks, axes 

 and augurs you will now find exposed for sale in 

 nearly every considerable town, but one of our beauti- 

 fully mounted scythes would be a great novelty here. 



The scenery varies, but retains the peculiarly Scotch 

 features. Hills which we should call mountains are 

 frequently planted with trees as far up as the soil 

 will lie upon the precipitous sides. On passing one 

 of great height, bald at the top, but bearded to the 

 eyebrows with fir and larch, I asked an elderly man, 

 a blacksmith, standing in his shop door, if they were 

 a natural growth. He said that he and his two 

 boys planted them all about forty-eight years ago. 

 They were now worth, on an average, twelve English 

 shillings, or about three dollars apiece. 



I lodged in Kinross, a pleasant-faced, quiet and 

 comfortable little town, done up with historical asso- 

 ciations of special interest. Here is Loch Leven, 

 serene and placid, like a mirror framed with wooded 

 hills, looking at their faces in it. It is a beautiful 

 sheet of water, taking the history out of it. But 

 putting that in and around it, you see a picture 



