sort of
jostling, it was with some surprise that we perceived that no less than
ten men had crowded themselves into that little hut and had lighted a
fire. It was like a realisation of some of Cooper's romantic incidents,
where, after a silent desert has been described, it somehow or other
becomes suddenly full of people and fertile in adventure. Our new
companions were not of the most agreeable cast: they were rough and
surly, hiding, we thought, a desire to avoid communication under the
pretence of inability to speak any thing but Gaelic; while, in the midst
of their Celtic communications with each other, they swore profusely in
the Scottish vernacular. What their pursuits were, or what occasion they
had to be in that wild region, was to us a complete mystery, opened up
slightly by reflecting on the two great lawless pursuits, smuggling and
poaching; of the fruit of neither of which, however, did we see any
symptom. Our position was not for many reasons, great and small, to be
envied: however, it was the best policy to make one of themselves for
the time being, so far as their somewhat repulsive manners would permit.
It was not, however, with much regret, that, after having been packed
for some hours with them on the hard stumps of heather, we left them in
full snore at sunrise on a clear morning, and ascended the hill dividing
the waters that run into the Spey from those which feed the Dee. The
dews lay heavy on the moss and heather, and, as we neared the top of the
ridge, glittered brightly in the new-risen sun; while here and there the
mists, forming themselves into round balls, gradually rolled up the
sides of the hills, and, mounting like balloons, disappeared in the blue
sky. As we passed down through the broken forest-land on the other side,
we could see, on the top of the gentler elevations, the slender-branched
horns of the red-deer between us and the sky. Even on our near approach
the beautiful animals showed no signs of panic,--perhaps they knew our
innocence; and they gazed idly as we passed, only tossing their heads in
the air, and scampering off disdainfully when we approached offensively
close. We reached the Dee by following the stream of the Quoich, which,
like the Lui, passes through the remains of an ancient forest. It
derives its convivial name from a peculiar cataract often visited by
tourists from Braemar. Here the stone is hollowed by the action of the
water into circular cavities like those of t