ON THE GRAMPIAN HILLS. 21 



A rapid act of coachmanship resulted in a safe 

 ^arrival at the Manse, where in due course we sat down 

 to dinner, which proved not by any means the most 

 unpleasant hour of the day. Proudly did our Piper* 

 habited in full costume, not a riband, a feather, or any 

 other of the gear of a true Highlander wanting, pour 

 forth exciting war strains and Scottish tunes until one 

 desired to fight somebody or something for the sake of 

 Bonnie Scotland; no wonder that there are so many feats 

 recorded in the history of Scotland when we think of 

 the influence these martial strains of wild music had 

 over the various spirited clans who fought and bled for 

 their country. 



Now that the undermining fear that I should break 

 down whilst following these manly pursuits is dissi- 

 pated, I contemplate with the utmost serenity the 

 plans and prospects of the future. The ptarmigan 

 are to be shot, and in order to find them the topmost 

 ridges of these tall hills have to be surmounted ; there, 

 amidst the gray stones only, are they to be found; 

 and if the day is warm and bright they may be readily 

 approached. Time was only a very few hours ago, 

 in fact when the idea of climbing those particular 

 hills, pointed out as the home of the ptarmigan, would 

 have caused me a twinge of intense regret when I 

 contemplated the reality of the impending ascent and 

 my inability to go up steep places. Now, as I con- 

 template my knickerbockers, the well-knit hose, and 

 comfortable boots, I feel that I am to the manner 

 born a Scotchman, and my mission, though hitherto 

 unfulfilled, is to climb steep mountainsides in the 

 pursuit of game. Then looming in the immediate 

 distance is a first-class day in another glen, fixed for 



