"This septennial victim was in my boyhood considered by the natives as the toll exacted by, and fated due of the river; and I have heard the old people reckon back, over 'Jock Tamson that was drowned i' the year ----, coming hame fou frae the fair;' 'Wull Smith,' fou of course, also, who, fresh from 'the spring roup of grass parks at the Hatton in the year ----,' was unexpectedly treated to more water than he needed for his purposes of grog; and so on. The old inhabitant would then conclude with a grave--'It's weel kent the burn's nae canny;' and a confident prediction, with half a shudder in his voice, that 'ye'll see it winna be lang noo till it maun get anither.' Any sceptic was at once silenced with--'Weel-a-weel--say yer say o't the noo, and jist bide till ye see. But dinna ye be daunerin' doon 't yersel', neist nicht ye're fou, or maybe, my braw man, _ye'll no see_. I'm no saying but ye'll mak' a bonny corp, giff ye downa swall wi' the burn-water, yer stamack nae bein' used to't.'" "Your theory is correct," said the Landlord, turning to Fellowes, "that the fear of Nature is common to all races, and that as each race advances in civilisation the terror dies out. The kelpie, for instance, always lives near a ford--bridge the stream, and the kelpie dies. Build a road across a haunted hill, and you banish the fairies of the hill for ever. The kelpie and the fairy are simply spiritual personations of very rude and common dangers--of being carried away by the current when you are attempting to cross a river--of being lost when you are taking a short cut across hills on which there is no track. Abolish the dangers, and you at the same time abolish those creatures, Fear and Fancy." "Rhymes like these are the truest antiques, the most precious articles of _virtu_. What is the brooch or ring that the fair woman wore, the brogues in which the shepherd travelled, the sword or shield with which the warrior fought, compared with a triplet like that, which is really an authentic bit of the terror that agitated human hearts long ago?" [Sidenote: The Skye railway.] But while we were discussing the Dean flowing on solitarily, every gurgle silenced with expectation as the hour drew near when its seven years' hunger would be appeased, Pen and the Landlord had drifted away to the subject of the Skye railway--this summer and the last a favourite subject of discussion in the Island. "You are a great friend of the railway?" "Of course I am," said the Landlord. "I consider the locomotive the good wizard of our modern day. Its whistle scares away filth, mendicancy, and unthrift; ignorance and laziness perish in the glare of its red eyes. I have seen what it has done for the Hindoo, and I know what it will do for the Islesman. We hold India by our railways to-day rather than by our laws or our armies. The swart face of the stoker is the first sign of the golden age that has become visible in my time."