Yes, it was he, on the ledge, bare-limbed, an Apollo, down-gazing, Eyeing one moment the beauty, the life, ere he flung himself in it, Eyeing through eddying green waters the green-tinting floor underneath them, Eyeing the bead on the surface, the bead, like a cloud rising to it, Drinking-in, deep in his soul, the beautiful hue and the clearness, Arthur, the shapely, the brave, the unboasting, the Glory of headers; Yes, and with fragrant weed, by his knapsack, spectator and critic, Seated on slab by the margin, the Piper, the Cloud-compeller. Yes, they were come; were restored to the party, its grace and its gladness, Yes, were here, as of old; the light-giving orb of the household, Arthur, the shapely, the tranquil, the strength-and-contentment diffusing, In the pure presence of whom none could quarrel long, nor be pettish, And, the gay fountain of mirth, their dearly beloved of Pipers; Yes, they were come, were here: but Hewson and Hope—where they then? Are they behind, travel-sore, or ahead, going straight, by the pathway? And from his seat and cigar spoke the Piper, the Cloud-compeller. Hope with the uncle abideth for shooting. Ah me, were I with him! Ah, good boy that I am, to have stuck to my word and my reading! Good, good boy to be here, far away, who might be at Balloch! Only one day to have stayed who might have been welcome for seven, Seven whole days in castle and forest—gay in the mazy Moving, imbibing the rosy, and pointing a gun at the horny! And the Tutor impatient, expectant, interrupted. Hope with the uncle, and Hewson—with him? or where have you left him? And from his seat and cigar spoke the Piper, the Cloud-compeller. Hope with the uncle, and Hewson—Why, Hewson we left in Rannoch, By the lochside and the pines, in a farmer’s house,—reflecting— Helping to shear,[8] and dry clothes, and bring in peat from the peat-stack. And the Tutor’s countenance fell; perplexed, dumb-foundered Stood he,—slow and with pain disengaging jest from earnest. He is not far from home, said Arthur from the water, He will be with us to-morrow, at latest, or the next day. And he was even more reassured by the Piper’s rejoinder. Can he have come by the mail, and have got to the cottage before us? So to the cottage they went, and Philip was not at the cottage; But by the mail was a letter from Hope, who himself was to follow. Two whole days and nights succeeding brought not Philip, Two whole days and nights exhausted not question and story. For it was told, the Piper narrating, corrected of Arthur, Often by word corrected, more often by smile and motion, How they had been to Iona, to Staffa, to Skye, to Culloden, Seen Loch Awe, Loch Tay, Loch Fyne, Loch Ness, Loch Arkaig, Been up Ben-nevis, Ben-more, Ben-cruachan, Ben-muick-dhui; How they had walked, and eaten, and drunken, and slept in kitchens