the south, a hundred lochs, a myriad streams, and a forest of
hill-tops. There on the very crest lies the old man, in the heart of
his own land, at the fountain-head of his many waters. If you listen
you will hear a hushed noise as of the swaying in trees or a ripple on
the sea. It is the sound of the rising of burns, which, innumerable
and unnumbered, flow thence to the silent glens for evermore.

THE GIPSY'S SONG TO THE LADY CASSILIS

"Whereupon the Faas, coming down from the Gates of Galloway, did so
bewitch my lady that she forgat husband and kin, and followed the
tinkler's piping."--Chap-book of the Raid of Cassilis.

The door is open to the wall,
The air is bright and free;
Adown the stair, across the hall,
And then-the world and me;
The bare grey bent, the running stream,
The fire beside the shore;
And we will bid the hearth farewell,
And never seek it more, My love,
And never seek it more.

And you shall wear no silken gown,
No maid shall bind your hair;
The yellow broom shall be your gem,
Your braid the heather rare.
Athwart the moor, adown the hill,
Across the world away;
The path is long for happy hearts
That sing to greet the day, My love,
That sing to greet the day.

When morning cleaves the eastern grey,
And the lone hills are red
When sunsets light the evening way
And birds are quieted;
In autumn noon and springtide dawn,
By hill and dale and sea,
The world shall sing its ancient song
Of hope and joy for thee, My love,
Of hope and joy for thee.

And at the last no solemn stole
Shall on thy breast be laid;
No mumbling priest shall speed thy soul,
No charnel vault thee shade.
But by the shadowed hazel copse,
Aneath the greenwood tree,
Where airs are soft and waters sing,
Thou'lt ever sleep by me, My love,
Thou'lt ever sleep by me.

VI

THE GROVE OF ASHTAROTH

"C'est enfin que dans leurs prunelles
Rit et pleure-fastidieux--
L'amour des choses eternelles
Des vieux morts et des anciens dieux!"
--PAUL VERLAINE.

We were sitting around the camp fire, some thirty miles north of a
place called Taqui, when Lawson announced his intention of finding a
home. He had spoken little the last day or two, and I had guessed that
he had struck a vein of private reflection. I thought it might be a
new mine or irrigation scheme, and I was surprised to find that it was
a country hous