er adventure we remember in the same place, but that was long, long
ago; in fact, it was when in boyhood we had first entered into that
awful wilderness. We had reached the top of Ben Muich Dhui early in the
day. Our little wallet of provisions we had left on a tuft of heather
where we had lain down to rest, and we could not afterwards find the
spot. Somewhat tired, and faint with hunger, we descended the rocks by
the side of the cataract, believing that Loch Avon, seemingly so small
from the summit of the mountain, was the little Tarn of Etichan, which
had been passed in the ascent from Dee-side. It was alarming to find the
lake extending its bulk as we approached, and to see the glens looking
so different from any of those we were acquainted with on Dee-side; but
to have returned up the mountain would have been insanity, and by
pursuing the track of a stream, one is sure in the end--at least in this
country--to reach inhabited land; so we followed the waters of the Avon,
so deep and transparent, that many miles down, where they join the Spey,
their deceptious character is embodied in the proverb--

"The water o' A'an, it rins sae clear,
'Twould beguile a man o' a hunder year."

A few miles below the exit of the stream from the loch, as the extreme
dimness of the valley showed that sunset was approaching, we met a
drover who had gone up into the wilderness in search of stray black
cattle. He could speak little English, but was able to give us the
startling intelligence that by what was merely a slight divergence at
first, we had gone down towards the strath of the Spey instead of that
of the Dee; and that we were some thirty miles from the home we had
expected to reach that evening. Our new friend took us under his charge,
and conducted us to a bothy, made of the bent roots of the pine-tree,
found in the neighbouring mosses, and covered with turf. It was so low,
that we could not stand upright in it, and a traveller might have walked
over it without observing that it was an edifice made with human hands.
The sole article of furniture, of which it could boast was a trough, in
which our new friend hospitably presented us with a supper of oatmeal
and water--our first nourishment for the day. The supply was liberal,
whatever might be thought of the quality of the repast. The floor of the
bothy was strewed with heather, somewhat coarse and stumpy, on which we
lay down and slept. Conscious of a confused noise and a