Now they would
pass through a farm-steading, perfumed with the breath of cows, and
the odour of burning peat--so fragrant! though not yet so grateful
to the inner sense as it would be when encountered in after years
and in foreign lands. For the smell of burning and the smell of
earth are the deepest underlying sensuous bonds of the earth's
unity, and the common brotherhood of them that dwell thereon. Now
the scent of the larches would steal from the hill, or the wind
would waft the odour of the white clover, beloved of his
grandmother, to Robert's nostrils, and he would turn aside to pull
her a handful. Then they clomb a high ridge, on the top of which
spread a moorland, dreary and desolate, brightened by nothing save
'the canna's hoary beard' waving in the wind, and making it look
even more desolate from the sympathy they felt with the forsaken
grass. This crossed, they descended between young plantations of
firs and rowan-trees and birches, till they reached a warm house on
the side of the slope, with farm-offices and ricks of corn and hay
all about it, the front overgrown with roses and honeysuckle, and a
white-flowering plant unseen of their eyes hitherto, and therefore
full of mystery. From the open kitchen door came the smell of
something good. But beyond all to Robert was the welcome of Miss
Lammie, whose small fat hand closed upon his like a very
love-pudding, after partaking of which even his grandmother's
stately reception, followed immediately by the words 'Noo be dooce,'
could not chill the warmth in his bosom.
Pages:
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191