ON THE GRAMPIAN HILLS. 19 



sense of fatigue had by this time vanished, and I 

 continued to walk through the heather, over the 

 rugged stones, up hill, down hill, across the burns, 

 and through spongy peat soil, resting at luncheon- 

 time, and occasionally taking a seat on a boulder- 

 stone, feeling as the day advanced that I was fresher 

 than ever, and so continued until nearly eight o'clock, 

 when a heavy shower came on, and we ceased shooting. 

 So much for the fresh air of the Grampian Hills, which 

 must be the sole cause of such a revival of strength ; 

 and strange to relate that, after walking, or, at any 

 rate, being on my feet, for nearly twelve hours, I 

 was as fresh as a four-year-old and "as fit as a fiddle/' 

 As we mounted the heights we felt the full force 

 of the wind, which was blowing half a gale ; and as 

 the grouse rose the strong breeze accelerated their 

 pace, causing them to twist like snipe, which ren- 

 dered it all the more difficult to bring them down. 

 Still, on we went, every few minutes adding to our 

 score, until the appointed place for luncheon was 

 reached, by which time the bag was fifty brace. By 

 the side of a small but swiftly-flowing burn we rested 

 and refreshed. Never did cold beef taste so tooth- 

 some; never was there such a dish provided for 

 hungry sportsmen as that ingeniously-designed and 

 skilfully-executed compound of delicacies, worthy of 

 Meg Merrilies, amongst which I traced the flavour 

 of the timid hare, the wide-awake wild duck, the 

 familiar rabbit, and the unappreciated moorhen, if I 

 mistake not ; whilst, tranquilly reposing in the cool 

 waters of this humble stream, were several bottles, 

 originally hailing from Rheims or Epernay. Just a 

 wee drap of whuskey was handed to each of us, 



B 2 



