26 FRESH FIELDS 



very welcome to both eye and ear. And tlie lakes 

 — nothing can be prettier than Loch Lomond and 

 Loch Katrine, though one wishes for some of the 

 superfluous rocks of the New World to give their 

 beauty a granite setting. 



It is characteristic of nature in England that 

 most of the stone with which the old bridges, 

 churches, and cathedrals are built is so soft that 

 people carve their initials in it with their jack- 

 knives, as we do in the bark of a tree or in a piece 

 of pine timber. At Stratford a card has been 

 posted upon the outside of the old church, implor- 

 ing visitors to refrain from this barbarous practice. 

 One sees names and dates there more than a century 

 old. Often, in leaning over the parapets of the 

 bridges along the highways, I would find them cov- 

 ered with letters and figures. Tourists have made 

 such havoc chipping off fragments from the old 

 Brig o' Doon in Burns's country, that the parapet 

 has had to be repaired. One could cut out the key of 

 the arch with his pocket-knife. And yet these old 

 structures outlast empires. A few miles from Glas- 

 gow I saw the remains of an old Eoman bridge, the 

 arch apparently as perfect as when the first Eoman 

 chariot passed over it, probably fifteen centuries 

 ago. No wheels but those of time pass over it in 

 these later centuries, and these seem to be driven 

 slowly and gently in this land, with but little wear 

 and tear to the ancient highways. 



