Near at hand were pastures and harvest-fields. Beyond them was the bed of the river, fringed with wood, and the horizon was bounded by low moorland hills. ‘From the top of that one,’ said Alec, pointing to one of the hills, ‘you can catch a glint of the sea. It shines like a looking-glass. I would like to see it near at hand.’ ‘Have you never been to the seaside?’ I asked. I must have betrayed my surprise by my voice, for the boy blushed as he answered: ‘No; I have been to Glasgow once or twice, but I have never been to the salt water.’ (The seaside is always spoken of as ‘the coast’ or ‘the salt water’ in this part of the country.) ‘I have never been beyond Muirburn, except once or twice, in my life,’ he added, as the look of discontent which I fancied I had detected in his face grew stronger. ‘May I look at your books?’ I asked, by way of changing the subject. ‘Oh yes; they’re not much to look at,’ he said with a blush. I took them up--a Greek grammar, and a school-book containing simple passages of Greek for translation, with a vocabulary at the end of the volume. ‘Is this how you spend your leisure time?’ I asked. ‘Not always--not very often,’ answered Alec. ‘Often I am lazy and go in for Euclid and algebra--I like them far better than Greek. And sometimes,’ he added with hesitation, as if he were confessing a fault--‘sometimes I waste my time with a novel.’ ‘I would not call it wasting time if you read good novels,’ said I. ‘What do you read?’ ‘Only Sir Walter and old volumes of _Blackwood_; they are all I have got.’ ‘You could not do better, in my opinion,’ said I emphatically. ‘Such books are just as necessary for your education as a Greek delectus.’ ‘Do you think so?’ said the lad, with wondering eyes. ‘These are not my father’s notions.’ ‘Shall I leave you to your work now?’ I asked, rising from the heather on which we were lying. ‘I like to have you to talk to,’ said Alec, half shyly, half frankly. ‘I seldom do get anyone to talk to.’ ‘You have your sister,’ I said involuntarily. ‘Margaret is not like me. She has her own thoughts and her own ways; besides, she is a girl. Will you come and see the “Lover’s Leap?” It’s a bonny place.’ ‘Where is it?’ ‘Only half a mile up the Logan.’ ‘You mean the stream that runs through the valley down there?’ ‘No; that’s the Nethan. The Logan falls into it about a mile farther up.’ We were descending the knoll as we talked; and on our way we saw a field where the reapers were at work. As we approached, we saw a tall form leave the field and come towards us. It was Alec’s father. ‘I think, Alec,’ said the old man, ‘you would be better employed helping to stack the corn, if you’re too proud to take a hand at the shearing, rather than walking about doing nothing.’ The lad blushed furiously, and made no answer.