A PTARMIGAN DAY. 215 



todlmnter. His free step, bronzed half-savage 

 face, keen eye, and sinewy frame, tell tales of a 

 wild life among mountains and precipices, equally 

 callous to the winter blast or summer sun. 



" Long, long ago," I was fishing with a com- 

 panion of my boyish days in a quiet nook of " the 

 Pass of Glencroe," when we met a man such as I 

 have described, with a few ragged terriers at his 

 foot. He was the Arrochar foxhunter, and had 

 been searching the high-lying shielings for a stray 

 hound. My friend remarked that he had never 

 seen a finer specimen of the genus. "With his 

 bold bearing, hardy weather-beaten face, erect 

 wiry frame, short round foot in hobnailed brogue, 

 lithe active gait, and long gun over his shoulder, 

 this Arrochar hillsman was the very embodiment 

 of Evan Dhu in ' Waverley.' 



The foxhunter's occupation on Luss and Arro- 

 char has been gone for many a long year, and I 

 never expected to see this last remnant of them 

 more. Two years since, when landing from the 

 Loch Lomond steamboat at Balloch, on the Leven, 

 a little, bent, very round-shouldered old man, 

 with whey -coloured weaver visage, a suit of 



