114 Burnside. 



wings in rapid vibration, and a thrilling murmur of the 

 bubbling burn reaches our ears. Numbers of different 

 sounds there are all round us, now that we stay to listen 

 for them, and the air spirits would fan us dreamily to sleep. 

 Well, sleep up here would be pleasant enough, I dare say, 

 but we have had a long day and yes perhaps bed is pre- 

 ferable to us who are unused to sleep in the open air. 



We come to a rocky wall, made of loose stones, and broken 

 here and there. The path leads under this, and is wet and 

 slippery, and must be trodden with care. The twilight, 

 which has long exceeded the limit it reaches in our southern 

 home, draws rapidly to a close. Quickly the daylight fades, 

 the distant mountains recede farther and farther into the 

 approaching darkness, soon hazy shadows alone are left, and 

 even the objects near us loom indistinctly in the gloom. 

 Yes, night is here at last ! Twilight is gone, and we feel 

 thankful, as we pass through a farmyard, that we are clear 

 of the treacherous path. The night moths fly busily from 

 flower to flower sucking honey, or from leaf to leaf to lay 

 their eggs ; the now distant burn keeps up a rippling hum 

 on the still night air ; the mountains have long since faded 

 from sight ; the birds are silent. As we near the loch, 

 thoughts of rest are mingled with happy memories of racing 

 clouds and craggy precipices, of lovely torrents and spark- 

 ling cascades, of endless depths of moss and far-spread 

 wastes of blooming flowers, of gnarled thorn and graceful 

 birch, of all the many beauties which Nature has unfolded 

 before us to-day, of all the many lessons which she has 

 taught us. 



