no ECHOES OF SPORT 



deer in every direction, and now and then 

 a big bass voice reverberated through the 

 silence, and our glasses raked every nook and 

 corner to find the owner of the voice. But 

 roaring was nearly at an end, and the corries 

 no longer resembled the cattle-market they 

 did ten days ago. 



Stretching away below us, and opening out 

 into a veritable plain, is the flat ground of the 

 Sanctuary; rising all round, on the north, west, 

 south of it, are the wild rocky faces and passes 

 where the deer cross from one corrie to 

 another. Opposite is the highest point in all 

 the forest, below it far down to the right, is 

 the road that leads through the wild "hills 

 of Cona and Etha." Still more to the east 

 lies an island sea of lochs, where one has 

 spent many a dreamy, dawdling summer's 

 day catching fat trout. 



Hills and waters of the west, is any beauty 

 of earth's to compare with yours ? Is there 

 aught that stirs the pulses as the kiss of your 

 wild winds and the sound of your purling 

 burns ? Be one after deer or after ptarmigan, 



