Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-10-04
AMONG SCOTCH HILLS.
Wakeman's Notes of a Tramp in the
Picturesque Highlands.
SCENES OF FASCINATING BEAUTY,
Along Unfrequented Paths in the Rich VAL
ley of the Tweed.
1LlNPSES OF OLD ISGLE N00KS

BEAULY, SCOTLAND, September L.
This is the month of silence among the birds
of Scotland. You see all manner of them
here and there flying lazily close to the
earth, or ruminatingly poised upon swaying
boughs as il overcome with penslveness and
melancholy. The consciousness of this
autumnal silence of the songsters comes
upon you suddenly as you tramp by hedge
aud field along these grand old Scottish
ways. You turn aside with an impulse
to discover in the forest if it be a
seeming or reality. Leaping q wall which
separates you from coppice already tinted
with the first delicate pencilings of the
frost, and plunging among the brush
and brambles at its edge, you find a ragged
hollow. This can be clearly traced, straight
as an arrow, for long distance. There is a
wonderful fascination in this bramble-
covered swail. You pother about it for a
little, and find it paved with huge stones.
More digging discloses solid walls set be-
meath the rubbish at its sides. You have
discovered an old Roman road. The sea
itself hardly broke the line of this stout old
artery, along which once surged the iron
blood of Rome. Stern Agricola rode at the
head of his legions past the very spot on
WHICH YOu dTc AlmOot CCoociCso
tides of warriors swept over this road to
Mons Grampus, that 10. 600 slain and stark
Caledonan barbarIans might form an i'm
passable wall to the mist-wreathed noun
tains beyond.
Eighteen hundred years have passed since
Jealous Domitian recalled to Rome this in
vincible leader of steel-mailed slaughterers,
and the glowing pen of Tacitus told the sur
passing bravery Of the skin-clad Mortimer
who fell beneath his onslaughts; but as you
linger upon the old Roman Road, dreaming
until the sun is almost level with the far
mountain tops, flaming their blue heather
marvelously, countless wraiths pass and re-
pass in olden battle array. Then that it is
the nineteenth and
NOT THE FIRST CENTURY
upon which is shining is recalled to- you by
the face OF a keenly observant but solemn
collie dog breaking between some elumps OF
golden broom above your head. He has
been minding flock of sheep, grazing yon-
der on the brae-side; and he has stepped
aside for moment to interrupt your vagar-
Gus fancies about Agricola and all the other
grim old fellows of his blood-letting time,
and to study your intentions and possibly
examine your credentials. You beg his
pardon tor the trespass; leap tie wall to the
highway again; gaze back down the valley
upon score of red-roofed hamlets; push
forward to the waysIde inn where you are to
tarry; and, between the walls of its huge
chamber, you march in dreams from the
Seven Hills to the Grampians, with mailed
hosts and forest spears, along that old
Roman road throughout the ivelong night
Nature wears other aspects than those of
sunshine and gladness in Scotland. The
rain falls as though tumbled upon you by
mischievous elves who have watched for
your unwary coming; and the fog and mist
flap about the mountains and slap the face
OF the glens and valleys like ships un-
stayed sails pounding its deck in storm.
But you find sovereignty of elatlon and
exaltation in wandering alone among the
scenic glories of any land; even in Scotland
through mist thick as Strathglass por-
ridge. A good staff or stick, a stout pair
of legs, a receptive mind, and above all a
CHEEKY and sympathetic heart. whatever
your luck, are the regal companions for
such loiterings. Nature never fails to ap-
pear to single devotees at her myriad doors
and windows, ever shut to noisy crowds,
with radiant welcomings. How witching
the morning is, half disclosing the wondrous
charms of valley, haugh, loch, river, glen
and mountsinl
At times scarcely can your hand be seen
and fantastic convolutions of the fog. There
is your road, centuries old and as hard as
Scotch wit, beneath your feet. You cannot
mistake that. What is to the right or left,
or before, only your fancy. quickened by
the mornings awakening lite, intensified by
near and far mysterious sounds, can locate
and divine.
TRAMPING THROUGH RAIN.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, bravely as you
may, these grow into consciousness so i'm
perative of recognition, that, that despite
yourself, ever and again you stop to listen,
listen. Drip, drip, drip, from the leaves
of the hedges into water basins of rock, the
great drops striking like silver pellets upon
swinging glass; until the very chimes OF
the fairies are rung in your ears beside the
road Not a rod away. but invisible, rivu-
lets of the nights making wimple from
rocks to pools, from the staccato of tenor
trills to the BARITONE minors of stately
psalms.
Over your head the restless abrasion of
boughs whispers that the leaves from their
very weight Of fog cups, sigh and moan as
il impatient of their sunless prisoning.
Making your way is some times like push
ing through impalpable banks of snow. But
before the crackle and flame of the old inn
a doves wing, bacon crisp and brown, an
omelet as yellow as a trost-painted beech
Leaf, jug of cream sweet as a nut kernel,
fragrant brewing of tea in the DELPHI pot
under the ''cosey," and guidwife bustling
about in sort of CHEEKY frenzy to make you
welcome, you have reason to be glad of the
blood-tingle to be found in doing a half
dozen miles, before breakfast through q
genuine Scotch fog. .r-4-.
II you tramp in Scotland you cannot
avoid the humidity, nor can you fail to OBJ
serve one OF the curious effects upon Scotch
people themselves. They are either wholly
Indifferent to its influence or seem to possess
a sort OF liking Tor il, from lang syne COM
panionship. A fish poacher will cast his
hook in contentedness all day long through
steady drizzle. All sorts of peasant folk
along the roadside pursue their regular vo-
cations In pelting showers, as IT utterly. un-
conscious of the drenching element. Ex-
cursion and picnic parties set forth for a
days outing in pouring rain with, the
same enthusiasm as on a clear morning.
You will see as many fine ladies shopping
In Princess street, Edinburg, on rainy day
as on clear one. The Indifference to the mist
and rain may have become
A NATIONAL CHARACTERISTIC
through the universal use by Scottish peo-
pie of woolen clothing, so perfect in quality
and comfortable in texture as to protect
the body from the ill-etfect of sudden change
in temperature aud the chill of evaporating
moisture. But you can not account for the
apparent actual liking of mist and drizzle,
drizzle and mist, save on the theory that
endless companionship with anything as
expaserating as intermittent fog, sun and
drizzle, in time, gives the habit OF liking, if
not indeed OF love: That the Scotch love