388 A Mid'Lothian Burn, [Sess. 



are we mistaken in that which we heard, as, after wandering 

 through more fields, and pushing our way through a thicket 

 of young firs, we suddenly find ourselves in a charming 

 glade. 



Eomance and poetry seem in the air, and we have little 

 difficulty in persuading ourselves that here is a delightful 

 setting for a Midsummer Night's Dream. In imagination 

 we see that most delightful bit of mirthful comedy — the 

 rustic would-be actors rehearsing their famous make-believe. 

 Bully Bottom, clad in his conceit, is here, and Puck too, ready 

 for all manner of mischief. The burn hurries on its way, 

 and though tempted we must not dally too long over Shake- 

 speare and his immortal creation. 



The frighted scurry — half run, half fly — of water-hens 

 betrays a haunt but rarely disturbed. Our stream here 

 takes on the appearance of a pond, the home of swans and 

 of wild ducks, as well as of those smaller water-fowl which 

 we have just startled. On our approach all disappear. The 

 presence of a camera drives them to take shelter on a tree- 

 covered island, where they remain hidden under a screen 

 of dipping branches. 



It is a bright afternoon in March (Plate XXX., Fig. 2) that 

 we make our first acquaintance with this particular stretch of 

 our burn. The sun is brilliant, and huge cumulus clouds 

 come up from the west, and sailing across a sky of intensest 

 blue, tempt many a halt to secure their fleeting effect. The 

 air with its sharp touch is exhilarating, and our spirits rise as 

 we tramp steadily on. Before reaching our destination, how- 

 ever, we experience Spring's fitful change, as now the blue 

 gives place to neutral grey. The day still further darkens, 

 and through the trees sweeps the wind in mournful wail. 

 Yon rugged escarpment which a minute ago stood boldly 

 outlined against the sky, is all but obscured by driving hail 

 and sleet. 



On another visit we had many opportunities for picture- 

 making. One of these had its own difiiculty to surmount. 

 The sky, almost cloudless, was of a delicate blue, with just a 

 touch of purple in it, while the top branches of the beeches 

 had that purply colour seen only in early spring. 



The first tributary of any importance joins at this point, 



