OBAN. 33 
still, calm lakes by rocky islands, reflects every 
golden cloud, while the distant mountains form a 
frame of the softest blue ; and above and beneath, 
it is the same fair scene. 
Oban is a real Scotch town — you feel you are 
in the Highlands. The people talk a jxttois of 
English-Gaelic, and understand you with difficulty ; 
the shopkeepers have an English of their own. 
It is a strange isolated community, grafting 
English fashions slowly on northern stocks. 
You go to a store " to buy calico or some 
little matter. ^' Have you any good calico ? " you 
ask. ^'Yes — no — I think — my calico is worth 
hardly anything just. Yes, it's very bad calico." 
Perhaps you are obliged to have it, and to your 
surprise find it very dear. You remonstrate. 
Yes, I think it's very dear calico, and no good 
in it," they answer. 
Then their good nature is wonderful. They 
ivill know your business, and will insist upon 
trying to help you. 
In a country walk you pass by what looks like 
3 
