Fox's Earth to Mountain Tarn 



road finds but scant room over a spur, worn sheer 

 by the chafing water. 



Albeit classic, it is still a byway. It is not 

 overrun. It is scarce a tourist's land. The 

 visitors are American rather than Scots ; per- 

 haps German rather than American. Humiliat- 

 ing enough, but so it is. Even our kinsmen 

 across the water do not much affect this stretch, 

 but hurry it over to get to Abbotsford, Melrose, 

 and Dryburgh. Down there are the "lions." 



It is not objective enough. It selects its 

 visitors just as good literature selects its readers, 

 and good drama its audience. It is not like the 

 Tay the other notable Scots river. It is not so 

 majestic, so robust. It has not its roll, its sweep. 

 It is not so impressive, perhaps not so picturesque. 

 It does not lend itself to effects. It is subjective 

 and feminine, more refined and intellectual. Its 

 appeals are spiritual. Its spell must be felt. And 

 holiday makers have no time for that : they come 

 to see. No hotels dot its banks as along the 

 course of the Tay. The tourist blight does not 

 rest on the scene. 



Nor on the people. They are singularly them- 

 selves. Therein lies the difference between high- 

 land and upland, between gael and borderer. The 

 strong character acquired through a rude past 

 resists change. As current into pool, so the free 

 wild flow of history has stilled into independence, 

 not loud but deep. Conditions have changed, 



