250 THE FINDIIOUN HERONUy. 



of the Heronry. The view of the Heronry from this point not being very good, 

 we strolled up the river, reserving a minute examination till, passing down 

 the river side, we arrived at the best position for a good view. The left 

 bank, by which we wandered, is very steep, thickly covered with heath and 

 moss, and wooded to the river's margin; farther down, the bare cliffs, with 

 an occasional red-berried mountain ash clinging to the rock, stand out boldly; 

 but as the river flows on, the banks become more level, and more thickly 

 wooded. 



Passing along the pathway, some delicate-looking Orchis plants and the 

 pretty variegated flowers of the Common St. John's Wort, {Hypericum perfo- 

 ratum,) attracted attention. Soon after, entering a gate which brought us 

 into the grounds of Sluie, of which we were duly apprized by an immense 

 board, covered by an equally large notice, to caution travellers, and especially 

 such as carried guns or were accompanied by dogs, against trespassing, we 

 continued our walk and our conversation. The opposite banks now became 

 very precipitous, while every bend of the river brought some fine view — some 

 strange appearance of the shelving rock, or some bend of the stream in sight. 

 Altogether, the brown river edged by snow-white pebbles, the pale red sand- 

 stone rocks, the noble spreading larches, an occasional slow-flying Heron, that 

 old favourite —the ^dark creeping Ivy,' the stately Foxglove with its pyramid 

 of bells, the spreading Fern, the white flo'.\ering Bramble, the bright-looking 

 heather, and the deep blue sky, made up quite a picture. In a short time, 

 the path descending rapidly, led past a saw-mill, and speedily brought us to 

 the bank again. How gloomy did the river appear where the dark cliff was 

 reflected on the dark waters; how pleasant was the sparkle of the waters 

 where cliffs gave place to trees, and shadow to sunshine. But here ended 

 the stroll in this direction. So down by the old path we wandered, picking 

 up a Forget-me-not here, and lingering to look at the bright yellow flowers 

 o^ the Potentilla, (PotentiUa reptans,) there, as they crept along the forest 

 path, which was bestrewed with the dead leaves, which every puff of wind 

 rained from the trees; and as each leaf fell, it "bade man think on his 

 end." 



But here — where a white- branched birch stretches up, in form of a Y — is 

 the best point from which to view the Heronry. A more extraordinary sight 

 it wpuld be difficult to imagine. High up, the spectator looks down upon a 

 number of ancient, moss-grown trees, principally oak, that stand amidst a 

 number of fresh-looking companions, bounded by the river on the one side, 

 and by a meadow, which separates them from the woods of Darnaway, on the 

 other. On these aged trees, the Herons have for years resided: one tree 

 especially stands boldly out from among its fellows. Many a sun has shone 

 on it; many a winter's snow bedecked its leafless arms. It is forked and 

 branched in every direction; and the branches are weighed down by the nests 

 that have been constructed on every possible part of it. At every fork, on 

 the top ^of each bough, and at the summit of the tree itself, there is a nest. 



