52 RED DEER. 



pression, still their paths can be traced 

 by the worn sward and by the hollow 

 their hoofs work in the stones like a 

 shallow farrow. 



A hawthorn bush in bloom has the ends 

 of many of its boughs cut off as if with a 

 knife. This was done by the deer in early 

 spring, when the first green leaves came 

 forth, sappy and sweet, and were eagerly 

 nibbled. I cannot look round while pick- 

 ing a way over this grassy and yet rugged 

 ground without risk of stumbling, but on 

 pausing a moment the shape of the place 

 is evident. Across a deep valley a rifle- 

 shot distant rises a steep slope covered 

 with oak. Openings in the oaks are green 

 with brake, and where the fern has not 

 grown the reddish hue of the loose stones 

 is visible. The slope is far higher than the 

 hill on which I stand, and extends right 

 and left, surrounding me. To the left it 



