The patches came exclusively from people's raiment.
There was no colour more brilliant than a heather mixture; 'My
Johnny's grey breeks,' well polished over the oar on the boat's
thwart, entered largely into its composition. And the spoils of an
old black cloth coat, that had been many a Sunday to church, added
something (save the mark!) of preciousness to the material.
While I was at luncheon four carters came in - long-limbed, muscular
Ayrshire Scots, with lean, intelligent faces. Four quarts of stout
were ordered; they kept filling the tumbler with the other hand as
they drank; and in less time than it takes me to write these words
the four quarts were finished - another round was proposed,
discussed, and negatived - and they were creaking out of the village
with their carts.
The ruins drew you towards them. You never saw any place more
desolate from a distance, nor one that less belied its promise near
at hand. Some crows and gulls flew away croaking as I scrambled in.
The snow had drifted into the vaults. The clachan dabbled with snow,
the white hills, the black sky, the sea marked in the coves with
faint circular wrinkles, the whole world, as it looked from a loop-
hole in Dunure, was cold, wretched, and out-at-elbows.
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