A DERBYSHIRE TROUT-STREAM. 185 



of the huge boulders tufts of polypody ferns hang down 

 almost into the water ; and in many places the bracken, 

 now fast turning golden yellow, grows breast-high. 

 Here and there plantations of larch and fir trees relieve 

 the monotony of the mountain sides ; whilst an occa- 

 sional silver birch finds a precarious root on the wild 

 rocky banks. The way becomes more and more tedious 

 to the traveller, who often has to scramble over huge 

 moss and lichen-covered boulders, or beat his way 

 through thickets of bracken, and gorse, and bramble. 

 On the level stretches, the Snipe flies hurriedly up from 

 its rushy haunt, and the spongy ground trembles and 

 quakes under the footsteps. Various gay flowers enliven 

 the waste of cotton grass and rush ; and the stiff 

 mountain breeze now brings the roar of the stream upon 

 its wings in deafening distinctness, or carries it away to 

 echo amongst the surrounding heights. On the broad 

 heathy track, glowing in purple bloom in one fair broad 

 expanse, the Red Grouse rise on whirring wing and bid 

 the intrepid climber go-bac, go-bac, go-bac-bac-bac ; and 

 the Ring Ousels in notes of harshest cadence seem to 

 question his right in their lonely haunt. Rural sounds 

 are far below ; nothing human seems near ; perhaps the 

 whistle of a shepherd, or the bark of his dog, is heard 

 from a distant hillside, and serves as a kind of connecting 

 link with the busy world below. When the broad 

 plateau on the top of the wild mountain is reached and 



