The Highland monthly - National Library of Scotland

Willie Glilies. 73
able. It combines winter and summer, without the severity
of the first or the cheatery of the latter. Nor is the face of
nature less interesting in its russet garb than in its gaudy
robes of green. The sere and yellow leaf has its own
poetry, and the withering ferns and darkening heaths their
endless charms of colour. The brooks sing the hymn of
the season—a thanksgiving for the past, a prophecy for the
future. Look next at the animal world. How they enjoy
the end of the summer weather? Nature, like a provident
mother, gives them their rough winter coverings before
winter actually comes. Sheep and cows, especially, seem
quite aware of the value ot the gift, and it is wonderful how
comfortably they prepare themselves for the evil dayc that
are coming upon them. They lick up the soft herbage, as
if intending to be victualled at once for six months, and
.get up more impromptu fun among themselves at this time
than at any other. The frnv natunc are similarly affected.
Their coatings of wool, fur, hair, or feathers thicken and
change colour in accordance with specific wants, but the
careless creatures, instead of being made grave and demure
by the signs visible in themselves of approaching storms
and privat'ons, are as quietly, solemnly happy as if the
millennium of animal nature had come.
Well, I am like the lower animals myself in so far that
I feel more thankful for present enjoyments than apprehensive
of coming evils. When I left Edinburgh I was
anxious to reach Willie's native village as soon as possible.
I felt depres>ed about my young fViend. The scenery
diverted my mind from the painful subject. I willingly
allowed ils influence to control me, Whether it results
from an originally hopeful disposition, or from the
experience of long illness, in which the ceasing of pain was
a real pleasure, I know not, but this I have learnt, that I
can put off with much ease apprehensions of future evils
like the careless animals that sport on the eve of winter.
Through the romantic region fraught with mouldering
memorials of centuries of strife—the native home of the