ne of my long extempore
stories, which, shortly after leaving my aunt's cottage, I accordingly
began. My stories, when I had cousin Walter for my companion, were
usually co-extensive with the journey to be performed: they became ten,
fifteen, or twenty miles long, agreeably to the measure of the road, and
the determination of the mile-stones; and what was at present required
was a story of about thirty miles in length, whose one end would touch
the Barony of Gruids, and the other the Cromarty Ferry. At the end,
however, of the first six or eight miles, my story broke suddenly down,
and my foot, after becoming very painful, began to bleed. The day, too,
had grown raw and unpleasant, and after twelve o'clock there came on a
thick wetting drizzle. I limped on silently in the rear, leaving at
every few paces a blotch of blood upon the road, until, in the parish of
Edderton, we both remembered that there was a short cut through the
hills, which two of our older cousins had taken during the previous
year, when on a similar journey; and as Walter deemed himself equal to
anything which his elder cousins could perform, and as I was exceedingly
desirous to get home as soon as possible, and by the shortest way, we
both struck up the hill-side, and soon found ourselves in a dreary
waste, without trace of human habitation.

Walter, however, pushed on bravely and in the right direction; and,
though my head was now becoming light, and my sight dim, I succeeded in
struggling after him, until, just as the night was falling, we reached a
heathy ridge, which commands the northern sea-board of the Cromarty
Firth, and saw the cultivated country and the sands of Nigg lying only a
few miles below. The sands are dangerous at certain hours of the tide,
and accidents frequently happen in the fords; but then there could, we
thought, be no fear of us; for though Walter could not swim, I could;
and as I was to lead the way, he of course would be safe, by simply
avoiding the places where I lost footing. The night fell rather thick
than dark, for there was a moon overhead, though it could not be seen
through the cloud; but, though Walter steered well, the downward way was
exceedingly rough and broken, and we had wandered from the path. I
retain a faint but painful recollection of a scraggy moor, and of dark
patches of planting, through which I had to grope onwards, stumbling as
I went; and then, that I began to feel as if I were merely dreaming, and