THE WOODS OF THE LOCIIIEL. 347 



of transit in late years, numbers numberless of the 

 "Southerns" have seen the northern prospect in the 

 sunny months of summer, when the mountain, free 

 from mist, has reared its shoulder to the skies clothed 

 in rich purple bloom, while at its foot the woods were 

 verdant in bright contrasting greens ; but few of 

 tliese summer visitors, sportsmen and all, have re- 

 mained, as I have done, till autumn's wand has ripened 

 the blush of the berry, reddened the woods, bared the 

 rock's brow, bid Nature don the russet garb, and 

 changed her gentle sigh to the white squall which 

 roars through the ravines, and almost lifts from the 

 whirlino: eddies of the lake the row-boat of the 

 fisherman. Though I love the Highlands in their 

 sunmier garb, my admiration is deepened when I be- 

 hold them preparing to meet the onset of winter, and 

 observe them decked in sucli splendid hues of colour, 

 light and shadow, that were a painter to depict them 

 thus truthfully, fairer than any fiction, the cognoscenti 

 of the Exhibition would denominate him a gaudy 

 fool. In the woods of Lochiel, a part of the primeval, 

 or Caledonian forests, the pines are unequalled, save 

 those of Mar, their roots twisted among the gigantic 

 limbs of a perished race of oaks that once clothed the 

 foot of the mountain. In October, and even in No- 

 vember, notliino; can be more rich and warm than the 

 tints of the mountain ash, the beech, the birch, the 

 sycamore and oak. The golden hues of their leaves 

 stand forth from the back ground of dark fir and 

 heather, in the most marked contrast and variety of 

 light and shade. At this season of the year, too, 

 the mountain partially conceals her beauty in passing 

 wreaths of mist, assuming a variety of forms; and, 

 like the face of woman, the mountain dons a beam of 



