A HIGHLAND SCENE 69 



catching on his terraced shoulders the full glow of 

 sunset, and wreathing his summit with folds of delicate 

 rose-coloured cloud. To the left, above the purple 

 shadows that are now gathering round their base, tower 

 the white crags and crests of Ben Eay, rising clear 

 and sharp against the western sky. Down the centre, 

 between these two giant buttresses, lies Loch Maree 

 the noblest sheet of water in the Scottish Highlands 

 now ablaze with the light of the sinking sun. 

 Headland behind headland, and islet after islet rise as 

 bars of deep violet out of that sea of gold. Yonder 

 a group of pines, relics of the old Caledonian forest, 

 stand boldly above the rocky knolls. Around us the 

 naked rock undulates in endless bosses, dotted with 

 boulders or half-buried in the deep heather that flames 

 out with yet richer crimson in the ruddy light filling 

 all the valley. Overhead, the banded cliffs of Craig 

 Roy, draped with waterfalls and wet with the rains 

 of the earlier part of the day, glow in the varying tints 

 of sunset. We hear the scream of the eagles that still 

 nest in these inaccessible crags ; the hoarse outcry of the 

 heron comes up from the lake ; the whirr of the black- 

 cock re-echoes down the hill-side. It might seem as 

 if we were here out of sight and hearing of man, save 

 that now and then the low of cattle, driven home to 

 their stalls, falls faintly on the ear from the distant 

 hamlet, which is fading into the gathering twilight of 

 the glen. 



At such a time and in such a scene the past speaks 

 vividly to us, if there be human associations of a 

 bygone time linked with the place. Here, in this 

 remote Highland valley, we are led backward in im- 



