"O wharawa got ye that auld crookit penny,
For ane o' bright gowd wad ye niffer wi' me?
Richt fou are baith ends o' my green silken wallet,
And braw will your hame be in bonnie Glenshee.
"For a' the bricht gowd in your green silken wallet
I never wad niffer my crookit bawbee."
The road at the top of the world runs smoothly enough. But when the Devil's elbow is reached, a tremendous and dangerous turn in the road, every one dismounts from the coach, and the sight of an adventurous motor car coming down the turn does not decrease one's sense of peril.
INVERCAULD HOUSE.
Braemar
And then the sight of Braemar, and a consciousness that if you are about to spend more money at the Fife Arms or the Invercauld than any but royalty has a right to spend—royalty not having earned it—the adventure has been worth it.
And to have forgotten but as the coach flashes by to read the tablet—
"Here Robert Louis Stevenson lived in the summer of 1881, and wrote 'Treasure Island.'"
this is to be home again.