TWEED. 61 



land for some weeks, and had not written home 

 nor heard from thence, and found himself 

 curiously situated and quite alone on some step- 

 ping-stones which led a considerable way into 

 a loch somewhere betwixt Loch Lomond and 

 Loch Tay. It all at once occurred to him that 

 he stood, as it were, alone in the midst of the 

 world. On casting his eyes around, it so hap- 

 pened as if every moving and creeping thing 

 on the face of the earth had hid itself. No 

 lambkins sported near, nor shepherds piped on 

 the lea. The descending sun was casting its 

 long streaks of light and shade on the scene, 

 shadowing the sides of the mighty hills, deep 

 and motionless, into the waters of the lake, in a 

 way which all the ' caulk and keel ' of Salvator 

 Rosa or Claude can give but a faint idea of. 

 As he looked around on this calm and pleasing 

 prospect, he was struck with the grandeur of 

 the panorama. The mountains near and at a 

 distance seemed, by their profound stillness, to 

 be awaiting some awful event that was about to 

 befall. Yet he thought of l home and beauty,' 

 he thought of Bond Street, he thought of 

 scales, weights, and measures, of the many 

 pounds of tea and coffee that had been served 



