is nothing that gives me a more
mortifying picture of human life," said the poet, "than a man seeking
work." The required work, however, came direct in my way without
solicitation, and exactly at the proper time. I was engaged to assist in
hewing a Gothic gateway among the woods of my old haunt, Conon-side; and
was then despatched, when the work was on the eve of being finished, to
provide materials for building a house on the western coast of
Ross-shire. My new master had found me engaged in the previous season,
amid the wild turmoil of the barrack, in studying practical geometry,
and had glanced approvingly over a series of architectural drawings
which I had just completed; and he now sought me out in consequence, and
placed me in charge of a small party which he despatched in advance of
his other workmen, and which I was instructed to increase, by employing
a labourer or two on arriving at the scene of our future employment.

We were to be accompanied by a carter from a neighbouring town; and on
the morning fixed for the commencement of our journey, his cart and
horse were early at Conon-side, to carry across the country the tools
required at our new job; but of himself we saw no trace; and about ten
o'clock we set off without him. Ascertaining, however, when about two
miles on our way, that we had left behind us a lever useful in the
setting of large stones, I bade my companion wait for me at the village
of Contin, where we expected meeting the carter; and, returning for the
tool, I quitted the high road on finding it, and, to save time, and
avoid a detour of about three miles, struck across the country direct on
the village. My way was, however, a very rough one; and in coming upon
the Conon, which it was necessary I should ford--for by avoiding the
detour I had missed the bridge--I found it tolerably heavy in flood.
Save for the iron lever which I carried, I would have selected, as my
point of crossing, one of the still deep pools, as much safer to a
vigorous swimmer than any of the apparent fords, with their powerful
currents, whirling eddies, and rough bottoms. But though the heroes of
antiquity--men such as Julius Caeesar and Horatius Cocles--could swim
across rivers and seas in heavy armour, the specific gravity of the
human subject in these latter ages of the world forbids such feats; and,
concluding that I had not levity enough in my framework to float across
the lever, I selected, with some hesitation, one o