. The land of heather . The Window in Thrums House VII A HIGHLAND GLEN ITS name was GlenClova, a title suggest-ive of rural sweetnessand overflowing reality was a wide fis-sure opening back into thegreat bounding heatherhills, and its name wasalmost its only touch ofgentleness. Yet there wascharm in the little riverEsk which wound throughthe meadow bottoms, andthe vastness of the encom-passing hills was impres-sive, while even the lonely bareness of the region wasof its kind beautiful. The glens remoteness was attested to my senses inmany ways — by the peatstacks I found in the f
. The land of heather . The Window in Thrums House VII A HIGHLAND GLEN ITS name was GlenClova, a title suggest-ive of rural sweetnessand overflowing reality was a wide fis-sure opening back into thegreat bounding heatherhills, and its name wasalmost its only touch ofgentleness. Yet there wascharm in the little riverEsk which wound throughthe meadow bottoms, andthe vastness of the encom-passing hills was impres-sive, while even the lonely bareness of the region wasof its kind beautiful. The glens remoteness was attested to my senses inmany ways — by the peatstacks I found in the farm-yards, by the presence of the wild deer on the high 136. Returning from Market A Highland Glen 137 moors, by the snow-banks which glistened white in theravines of the craggy mountains until midsummer, andby the peewits and the water-birds which screamedat me when I walked about the fields, as if whollyunused to the sight of a stranger. The district wasvery destitute of trees, though frequent newly startedplantings covered great patches of the woods were numerous outside the valley, south-ward; but at the time of my visit a good share of thetrees in these woods had been blown over by a terriblegale of the year before. The power of the storm hadbeen such that it made even the heaviest stone dwell-ings tremble, frightening the people, tearing slates fromroofs, shattering byres, and turning over the cornstacksin the stackyards. The morning after the gale someof the woods on the exposed ridges had not a tree leftstanding. Even now, a twelvemonth later, much ofthe woodland wreckage had not yet been cleared away,and it was a melanchol
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Keywords: ., bookauthorjohnsonc, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookyear1904
