OF MR.

JOHN HERITAGE AND THE DIFFERENCE IN POINTS OF VIEW Dickson McCunn was never to forget the first stage in that pilgrimage.
A little after midday he descended from a grimy third-class carriage at a little station whose name I have forgotten.

In the village nearby he purchased some new-baked buns and ginger biscuits, to which he was partial, and followed by the shouts of urchins, who admired his pack--"Look at the auld man gaun to the schule"-- he emerged into open country.

The late April noon gleamed like a frosty morning, but the air, though tonic, was kind.

The road ran over sweeps of moorland where curlews wailed, and into lowland pastures dotted with very white, very vocal lambs.