I A Gossip on a S^itherland Hill-side 2 9 1 



them and as much interested in every point as if 

 you stalked every day for your dinner, — like every 

 man, woman, and child in broad Sutherland. 



It is no light business to get our big stag (for he 

 is a big one, a real Sutherland hart) on the deer- 

 saddle ; and intricate is the combination of knots 

 which keep him there. What a noble beast it is ! 

 and how the old pony turns his head round to snuff 

 at him ; he has carried them till he has positively 

 become fond of the rich aromatic smell of the deer, 

 — that Esau-smell, recognised long ago. How well 

 the pair look as they go over the sky-line ; and how 

 fondly we watch them till the broad antlers have 

 disappeared ! 



Now, friend Donald, for another and a bigger ! 



Why try to describe a ' stalk ' ? Unless the 

 ground is known, the description would be as dull 

 and flat as that of a run with foxhounds to a man 

 who knew not the country ; more so, indeed, for even 

 in the reading of a great run some faint echo of the 

 pattering thunder of the hoofs over the turf reaches 

 the heart of the reader, but in the stalk all is silent 

 and patient skill. When one thinks of it, this same 

 stalking is a very wonderful thing. There, two miles 

 off, are lying deer, a score or more, on ground 

 chosen with the hereditary skill and experience of 

 ages ; with powers of sight and scent of the most 

 marvellous keenness ; all bare around them ; appar- 

 ently not a tuft of rushes high enough to conceal a 

 ramrod within yards of them, pickets of keen-eyed 



