Untitled - Beeldbibliotheek

154 CARAVAN DAYSwe camped in a field at the side of the road withan amphitheatre of wood about us. Herbertcautiously manipulated the van through thenarrowest gate that she has ever traversed. Hehad about two inches on either side to come andgo upon, but we touched nothing. It is probablethat he would not have attemptedit had not thefarmer maintained with scorn that it wasmanifestly impossible. SIEGLINDA looked altogetherout of proportion on the farther side,enjoying somethingof the comic success of theconjuring trick by which one passes an egg intoa bottle. . . .At Comrie we fellupon a stackyard of finenot the least of them the hiddenproperties,stream which flowed justpast the van, down alittle narrow gorge entirely closed up with trees.It was a warm day and more than once wedescended into this chasm and bathed in a deeppool, arched closely in with branches and dappledover with rare spots of sunshine. . . .I dare say there is no finer camp in the Lowlandsof Scotland than our last one at the foot ofSt. Mary's Loch ;and we reached it in the finestweek of all the year, at the moment of its climax ;for the bracken that spreads far and wide uponthe rounded hills had turned to its warm autumn