round boulders, resting beside bubbling spring or mossy bank of ferns and primroses, the blue sea and the white sea-birds framed in every variety of green, is one of the most delightful that can be imagined. The promontory between Longhaven and Pothead consists of a succession of heathery knolls, sparsely planted with scraggy spruce and juniper bushes, where the earliest woodcock is sure to alight, it being the first bit of cover this side Norway. At the extreme point even the heather wears off, and the bare rocks rise naked and jagged from the water, yellow with lichen and brown with tangle.

They used to call a particular ledge or niche on this headland 'Charlie's Howff.' This was the natural observatory from which Uncle Ned took his bird's-eye views of nature. And the cool sparkling water of the Rood well, bubbling up from some unfathomable depth below the sea, was the only stimulant which the old naturalist on his rambles could be persuaded to touch. It was older, he asserted, than the oldest vintage in the Provost's cellar of an age indeed to be computed, not by years of annual magistrates, but by great conjunctions and the fatal periods of kingdoms. So it went well with the bread and cheese which he carried with him when on the tramp. "What brings you here, Uncle Ned?' little Eppie would inquirelittle Eppie, then about ten years old.

•

:

If you lived in the High Street of Lonnon, Eppie, you would sit at the window to see the folk gae by. So I sit here to see my freens pass-the sea-birds, and the porpoises, and the whales. It's the calendar that shows me the time o' year. When I notice the lang wedges o' wild swans and bean geese and loons and lang-tailed harelds and eider deucks flyin' past to the south, I ken that autumn is over and the winter comin'. Then when they begin to return it is a sign and a testimony that the spring time is at hand. Sae when the whales are blowin' like waterspoots, and the grampuses rollin' about like barrels, and the solans fa in' like bullets into the water, the fisher bodies are advised that the great herrin' shoals, that bide in the deep sea till the heat o' summer, are nearin' the shore. Truly there's nae month in the year like June, wi' the bays a' swarmin' wi’ fish; tho' indeed the haill year is a perfec' perpetual feast to them that remember Him who designed the birds and the beasts and young and auld bairns-like you and me, Eppie.'

At other times he would be accompanied by Alister, the sturdy schoolboy, who lived under his kinsman's roof-for Alister's father and the old boat-builder had been cousins-and then the children would have famous days of scrambling among the rocks. Eppie could climb like a squirrel or a cat; her eye was perfect; even when on a narrow, slippery ledge, with the surf boiling below, her head never failed her. It seemed that a spice of danger added to the zest of her enjoyment, putting her upon her mettle and bracing her nerves. If she could induce Alister to venture along a ledge from which he could not return without a helping hand, she would skim round about

in truth the boy was a daring cragsman, quite as venturesome in reality as Eppie herself; and he had taken the eggs of the shag and the peregrine from crags which had never been scaled before by anything heavier than a conie or a fox.

Then they would return to Uncle Ned's seat, and at the old man's feet share his frugal meal, listening lazily in the sunshine to his discursive talk.

6

'There's a leam fishing in St. Catherine's Dub,' he would say, pointing to a deep gash in the rocks. Lang syne, Eppie, a great Spanish barque-the St. Catherine by name-struck upon that reef. It was a ship of the great Armada, and it carried the Admiral's flag. It went to the bottom wi' every sowl on board. They say that a great store o' gowd lies at the bottom o' the Dub,-that was the clash of the country side when I was a wean. But lang or ever the Armada sailed the Danes kent ilka landin'-place alang the Heughs. They were wild folk, fearin' neither God nor man. Mony a farm-house they harried, and they burned the kirks, and spared neither mither nor maiden. But in the end a great battle was fought at the Ward -it began in the dawnin' and lasted far on thro' the nicht-and the saut-water thieves were forced back to their ships. It was a grand deliverance, and the Yerl built a kirk on the battle-field, for it was said that mair than mortal men took part in the fecht. That's an auld wife's story, it may be; but that the battle was won wi' God's help we may richtly believe. The kirk stood for a thousand years, and may be standin' yet: for ae wild winter nicht a mighty wind arose, and blew for a week, so that no man could stand against it. When it ceased the kirk was gone-it had been owercassen by the sand; and indeed the sandbank itsel' may be seen to this day at the Water o' Slains.'

Then as the boy and girl grew older he would take them with him into that imaginative domain where he spent so many of his days.

'When you are a bigger lass, Eppie, you shall read the plays of Shakespeare, and you too Alister. There has been nae man like Shakespeare born into this world. He was acquent' wi' a' the devices o' man's heart; and yet had he spent his time like mysel' in inquirin' into the ways o' birds and beasts, he could not hae been mair familiar wi' their ongoings. There's the teuchit-wha ever was mair pleased wi' its divertin' wiles, which indeed have always seemed to me mair like understandin' than instinct; for afore it could steal awa frae its nest and rise anon on broken wing, it must hae considered sariously hoo it could best beguile us :-

I would not, tho' tis my familiar sin
With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest

Tongue far from heart, play with all virgins so.

How tenderly he peeps into the nest of the cushey doo-there's never mair than ae pair of young cushies in a nest-whar her golden couplets are lying saft and snug. And Juliet desires a falconer's

plover oot o' the lift; and Coriolanus will be to Rome as the osprey to the fish who takes it by sovereignty of nature; and Antony, leaving the fight in height, claps on his sea-wing and like a doting mallard flies after the Egyptian witch; and the shy Adonis is the dive-dapper peerin' thro' a wave; and Duncan has nae thocht or suspicion o' that bloody midnight business, because the castle o' Macbeth is haunted by the swallows, who have built their pendent nests at ilka window; which pruves that the air is sweet and delicate, and better than doctors' drugs for an auld king. Puir auld Duncan!-as he sits there wi' the sunset touching his grey hairs, list'nin' to the twitterin' o' the swallows, he looks a sweet and gentle and contentit auld man : and a contentit auld man, my dears, is the happiest o' men. But, O my bairns, the death-warrant had been signed, and the bluidy designs o' twa black hearts-a man's, ay, and a woman's-had been registered in hell.

Within the hollow crown

That rounds the mortal temples of a king

Keeps Death his court, and there the antic sits.

You've heard of Leddy Macbeth, Eppie, from your spellin' buik; some ither day I'll tell you about Juliet and Coriolanus and Antony and Cymbeline, and the thrang o' kings and clowns and fair women wha have been embalmed for ever in the imperishable pages o' the chief o' poets.'

This sort of talk went over their heads often, no doubt; yet children are far wiser than the people who make stories for them suppose.

Did he live hereabouts?' Eppie asks.

6

'Na, he was never sae far north. Yet he kent the sea weel,though whar he saw it, oot o' his dreams, I canna tell. The sea,' he went on, that responds like the weather-glass to every impulse of the breeze-the always-wind-obeying deep-until as the gale rises it loses its equilibrium athegither, like a man oot o' his wits-as mad as the vexed sea-must hae been regarded by Shakespeare in a' its moods. Timon, weary o' the warld and its fickle praise and blame, would mak' his grave beside the sea, upon the very hem o' the sea, whar its licht foam might beat his gravestone daily. And for my ain part, bairns, I would love to lie within hearin' o' the swell-for the sea never sleeps, and it may weel be that even amang the mools we micht hear its voice-when ither voices are heard nae mair. Moreover, the sea itsel' is full of life,-being the image or visible manifestation of Him who is the centre and the source of life. The vital force o' oor Maker is nowhere else sae veevidly personified. Therefore, my bairns, the sea to an auld man like me has a hopefu' soun'-it speaks o' vitality and immortality,—like him who said, "Thou shalt not leave my soul in hell, neither shalt thou suffer thy Holy One to see corruption." The auld prophet indeed believed that the sea was unquiet because it was sorrowful-there is sorrow on the sea it cannot be quiet, says

in truth the boy was a daring cragsman, quite as venturesome in reality as Eppie herself; and he had taken the eggs of the shag and the peregrine from crags which had never been scaled before by anything heavier than a conie or a fox.

Then they would return to Uncle Ned's seat, and at the old man's feet share his frugal meal, listening lazily in the sunshine to his discursive talk.

'There's a leam fishing in St. Catherine's Dub,' he would say, pointing to a deep gash in the rocks. 'Lang syne, Eppie, a great Spanish barque-the St. Catherine by name-struck upon that reef. It was a ship of the great Armada, and it carried the Admiral's flag. It went to the bottom wi' every sowl on board. They say that a great store o' gowd lies at the bottom o' the Dub,-that was the clash of the country side when I was a wean. But lang or ever the Armada sailed the Danes kent ilka landin'-place alang the Heughs. They were wild folk, fearin' neither God nor man. Mony a farm-house they harried, and they burned the kirks, and spared neither mither nor maiden. But in the end a great battle was fought at the Ward -it began in the dawnin' and lasted far on thro' the nicht-and the saut-water thieves were forced back to their ships. It was a grand deliverance, and the Yerl built a kirk on the battle-field, for it was said that mair than mortal men took part in the fecht. That's an auld wife's story, it may be; but that the battle was won wi' God's help we may richtly believe. The kirk stood for a thousand years, and may be standin' yet: for ae wild winter nicht a mighty wind arose, and blew for a week, so that no man could stand against it. When it ceased the kirk was gone-it had been owercassen by the sand; and indeed the sandbank itsel' may be seen to this day at the Water o' Slains.'

Then as the boy and girl grew older he would take them with him into that imaginative domain where he spent so many of his days.

'When you are a bigger lass, Eppie, you shall read the plays of Shakespeare,—and you too Alister. There has been nae man like Shakespeare born into this world. He was acquent' wi' a' the devices o' man's heart; and yet had he spent his time like mysel' in inquirin' into the ways o' birds and beasts, he could not hae been mair familiar wi' their ongoings. There's the teuchit-wha ever was mair pleased wi' its divertin' wiles, which indeed have always seemed to me mair like understandin' than instinct; for afore it could steal awa frae its nest and rise anon on broken wing, it must hae considered sariously hoo it could best beguile us :—

I would not, tho' tis my familiar sin

With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest
Tongue far from heart, play with all virgins sc.

How tenderly he peeps into the nest of the cushey doo-there's never mair than ae pair of young cushies in a nest-whar her golden couplets are lying saft and snug. And Juliet desires a falconer's

plover oot o' the lift; and Coriolanus will be to Rome as the osprey to the fish who takes it by sovereignty of nature; and Antony, leaving the fight in height, claps on his sea-wing and like a doting mallard flies after the Egyptian witch; and the shy Adonis is the dive-dapper peerin' thro' a wave; and Duncan has nae thocht or suspicion o' that bloody midnight business, because the castle o' Macbeth is haunted by the swallows, who have built their pendent nests at ilka window; which pruves that the air is sweet and delicate, and better than doctors' drugs for an auld king. Puir auld Duncan !—as he sits there wi' the sunset touching his grey hairs, list'nin' to the twitterin' o' the swallows, he looks a sweet and gentle and contentit auld man : and a contentit auld man, my dears, is the happiest o' men. But, O my bairns, the death-warrant had been signed, and the bluidy designs o' twa black hearts—a man's, ay, and a woman's-had been registered in hell.

Within the hollow crown

That rounds the mortal temples of a king

Keeps Death his court, and there the antic sits.

You've heard of Leddy Macbeth, Eppie, from your spellin' buik; some ither day I'll tell you about Juliet and Coriolanus and Antony and Cymbeline, and the thrang o' kings and clowns and fair women wha have been embalmed for ever in the imperishable pages o' the chief o' poets.'

This sort of talk went over their heads often, no doubt; yet children are far wiser than the people who make stories for them suppose.

Did he live hereabouts?' Eppie asks.

6

Na, he was never sae far north. Yet he kent the sea weel,though whar he saw it, oot o' his dreams, I canna tell. The sea,' he went on, that responds like the weather-glass to every impulse of the breeze—the always-wind-obeying deep-until as the gale rises it loses its equilibrium athegither, like a man oot o' his wits-as mad as the vexed sea-must hae been regarded by Shakespeare in a' its moods. Timon, weary o' the warld and its fickle praise and blame, would mak' his grave beside the sea, upon the very hem o' the sea, whar its licht foam might beat his gravestone daily. And for my ain part, bairns, I would love to lie within hearin' o' the swell-for the sea never sleeps, and it may weel be that even amang the mools we micht hear its voice-when ither voices are heard nae mair. Moreover, the sea itsel' is full of life,-being the image or visible manifestation of Him who is the centre and the source of life. The vital force o' oor Maker is nowhere else sae veevidly personified. Therefore, my bairns, the sea to an auld man like me has a hopefu' soun'-it speaks o' vitality and immortality,-like him who said, "Thou shalt not leave my soul in hell, neither shalt thou suffer thy Holy One to see corruption." The auld prophet indeed believed that the sea was unquiet because it was sorrowful-there is sorrow on the sea it cannot be quiet, says