Untitled - Beeldbibliotheek

MINCED SCOTLANDininstant the picture of a littlegirl in an orchard,looking up wistfully into the branches of an appletree where her black kitten has taken refuge:Biggar always presents the figure of an extremelystout old lady in black, who ispoking about thehedgerows in search of groundsel for her canary :there isa misprint on a milestone not far fromthe flints :Killin : there is a lady stone-breaker in Sutherlandwho makes fine practice amongthere is a breed of white turkeys near FortAugustus.I am only giving you a few trivialmemories drawn at random from my bag, butenough perhaps to show the nature of the rewardthat falls to the slow-going caravanner. The onefatal blunder that he can make is to try to travelany faster than his natural pace. The motorcaravan . . . But I am not going to begin totalk about that.I believe I have come to understand as I neverdid before the motives of the many differentroads that I have travelled. Some of them areheadlong,stubborn and direct : stiff and unbending,impatient of rise or fall, intent upon theirdestination. Others are more wayward andfanciful, by no means in so much of a hurry, quitecontent to climb a knoll or skirt the shoulder ofa hill.Some seem hardly to have made up their