The Lost Pibroch And Other Sheiling Stories

The Lost Pibroch.

day is my story, for they have not the Lost

Pibroch. It is of the three best, who were

not bad, in a place I ken ¿ Half Town that

stands in the wood.

You may rove for a thousand years on

league-long brogues, or hurry on fairy wings

from isle to isle and deep to deep, and find

no equal to that same Half Town. It is

not the splendour of it, nor the riches of its

folk; it is not any great routh of field or

sheep-fank, but the scented winds of it, and

the comfort of the pine - trees round and

about it on every hand. My mother used

to -be saying (when I had the notion of

fairy tales), that once on a time, when the

woods were young and thin, there was a

road through them, and the pick of children

of a country-side wandered among them into

this place to play at sheilings. Up grew the

trees, fast and tall, and shut the little folks

in so that the way out they could not get

if they had the mind for it. But never an