A SPUING WEEK IN THE WEST HIGHLANDS. 377 



The fragrant air of the mountains made the spirit rebound, 

 and a slight touch of adventure gave zest to the whole. 

 There was just sufficient light when we neared the islet to 

 distinguish the two eagles winging their way to the main- 

 land. Both lit down near the shore, and eyed our proceed- 

 ings with an indifferent bearing. It was plain enough the 

 nest had been harried. With discomfited mien, the forester 

 ascended the tree only to confirm what we felt sure of 

 before. a I ken wha has served us this trick," says Peter, 

 setting his telescope for a last look at our quarry on the 

 shore. " He has swam in at nicht, the scoondrel, and ta'en 

 the eggs or young for fear o' his lambs. Mony a time he 

 has swam Loch Kannoch in the nicht-time to see his lass" 

 Upon inquiry, I found that this daring fellow had, night 

 after night, braved the winds and waves of that stormy 

 loch, re-enacting upon the solitudes of E-annoch the far- 

 sung feat of the Hellespont. It naturally struck me, was 

 his barefooted Scotch lassie worthy of such a courtship ? 

 Does she, now a Highland dame, feel a secret pride when, 

 sitting at her cottage door on a summer evening, she catches 

 a glimpse of the serene surface of her native loch ? Or 

 when the winter storm has raised the white wave, and the 

 snowdrift has sent her stalwart shepherd to the hill, does 

 she breathe the silent prayer of a thankful heart to the 

 Preserver of his days when their love was young ? With 

 such thoughts, I scarcely felt disappointment at the termina- 

 tion of my delicious night- walk, and, when I considered the 

 many night-swims the shepherd had taken for it, felt glad 

 that he had gained his prize^ though he had lost me mine. 



