XIII 

 GROUSE AND PARTRIDGE 



HOW delightful it is to climb an autumn 

 mountain; to breathe one's self on the gentle 

 incline of the pasture field ; to vault over the dry- 

 stone dyke, as if gravitation had lost its hold ; to 

 push through the fir-wood, and startle the black- 

 cock basking in the bare places among the bracken ; 

 to continue the difficult, yet unexhausting ascent 

 through the heather ; and, finally, to emerge clear 

 above all, in the presence of the undisturbed 

 ptarmigan, who fears no other enemy than the 

 eagle. 



Such is the vision which cheers the weary city 

 man through intervening days of worry, and 

 work. No more continental tours, from which one 

 returns as unrefreshed as he started ; nor yachting 

 excursions, where one lolls all day in much the 

 same attitude, and stares at much the same sea ; nor 



