I had a last walk, among russet
beeches as usual, and the air filled, as usual, with the carolling of
larks; I heard shots fired in the distance, and saw, as a new sign of
the fulfilled autumn, two horsemen exercising a pack of fox-hounds.
And then the train came and carried me back to London.
CHAPTER IV - A WINTER'S WALK IN CARRICK AND GALLOWAY - A FRAGMENT -
1876
AT the famous bridge of Doon, Kyle, the central district of the shire
of Ayr, marches with Carrick, the most southerly. On the Carrick
side of the river rises a hill of somewhat gentle conformation, cleft
with shallow dells, and sown here and there with farms and tufts of
wood. Inland, it loses itself, joining, I suppose, the great herd of
similar hills that occupies the centre of the Lowlands. Towards the
sea it swells out the coast-line into a protuberance, like a bay-
window in a plan, and is fortified against the surf behind bold
crags. This hill is known as the Brown Hill of Carrick, or, more
shortly, Brown Carrick.
It had snowed overnight. The fields were all sheeted up; they were
tucked in among the snow, and their shape was modelled through the
pliant counterpane, like children tucked in by a fond mother.
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