A PLEA FOR THE WASTES. 25 



the scarcity of the " sma' stells which were ance thick 

 eneuch on Loch Ow," and reprobating the tyranny of our 

 rulers, " wha hinnered folk frae dom* what they liket best 

 theirsels wi' their ain pickle barley." Sandy likes his 

 whisky raw, but is " very fond o a drop water after '#/ " 

 The first time I gave him a glass into his paralytic hand, 

 he spilt about two-thirds. I now insist upon holding the 

 glass to his mouth myself. This indignity Sandy resisted 

 at first, but I was peremptory, and he now contrives to 

 keep me between him and Johnny, who is slily keeking 

 round. When he has got his glass, however, he seems to 

 think it a good job well over, and occasionally attempts 

 some wit. I never like to see his sorrowful face then, 

 or even to hear his joke; it seems as if uttered in 

 bitterness of heart. 



I could not resist having a peep into the kite's nest. 

 She had no eggs yet, but all was ready for them, 

 plenty of soft warm odds- and -ends for the lining. 

 The two birds, balancing themselves at a great height 

 above, kept strict watch over our movements. It is 

 a great pity that the kite has become so rare, for it 

 always gives a sort of finishing touch to our pine-clothed 

 hills. 



The breeze had freshened. The squalls had settled 

 into a steady gale, and we were fully seven miles 

 from Cladich. I wished, at least, to try some of the 

 best ground on our way home, having little hope of 

 pulling the whole distance against such a head-wind. 

 Sandy, however, was unable to make any way ; and upon 



