"MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS" 283 



the views of the Wye, or sailed from Glasgow through the 

 Highlands and Islands of Scotland. From the rapidity of 

 transit in late years, numbers numberless of the Southrons 

 have seen the northern prospect in the sunny months of 

 summer, when the mountain, free from mist, has reared its 

 shoulder to the skies clothed in rich purple bloom, while at its 

 foot the woods were verdant in bright contrasting greens ; but 

 few of these summer visitors, sportsmen and all, have remained, 

 as I have done, till autumn's wand has ripened the blush of the 

 beiTy, reddened the woods, bared the rock's brow, bid Natm-e 

 don the rasset garb, and changed her gentle sigh to the white 

 squall which roars through the ravines, and almost lifts from 

 the whirling eddies of the lake the row-boat of the fisherman. 

 Though I love the Highlands in their summer garb, my admira- 

 tion is deepened when I behold them preparing to meet the 

 onset of winter, and observe them decked in such splendid hues 

 of colour, light and shadow, that were a painter to depict them 

 thus truthfully, fairer than any fiction, the cognoscenti of the 

 Exhibition would denominate him a gaudy fool. In the woods 

 of Lochiel, a part of the primeval or Caledonian forests, the 

 pines are unequalled, save those of Mar, their I'oots twisted 

 among the gigantic limbs of a perished race of oaks that once 

 clothed the foot of the mountain. In October, and even in 

 Novembei', nothing can be moi'e rich and warm than the tints 

 of the mountain ash, the beech, the birch, the sycamore and 

 oak. The golden hues of their leaves stand forth from the 

 background of dark fir and heather, in the most marked con- 

 trast and variety of light and shade. At this season of the 

 year, too, the mountain partially conceals her beauty in passing 

 wi-eaths of mist, assuming a variety of forms ; and, like the face 

 of woman, the mountain dons a beam of sunshine ; and, lifting 

 her veil, smiles on admiring man with an effulgent brow, the 

 more beautiful in that for a time it has been mysteriously 

 concealed. 



Alas ! that I should be forced to descend from enraptured 

 reminiscences of nature, to condemn the eiTors of a builder and 



