CHAMOIS HUNTING. 



The magnificent scenery, the daring and the danger, 

 the vigour and elasticity of limb which the pure 

 mountain air imparted, the glorious sunrise over- 

 flooding gradually the plains of snow, the loud cry 

 of joy of the peasant-girl ringing upwards to the very 

 sky, all this sent a thrill through my whole frame, 

 and my blood seemed to feel the thrill and tingled 

 with exultation. 



What would I not have often given could hearty 

 old Christopher North have been with me to enjoy 

 the sight, to have watched the driving mists coming 

 upwards from the valley, and have listened for a sound 

 amid that silence and solitude. He rather paints 

 than describes ; his words are colour, with which he 

 fills a canvas, and so presents you with a picture of 

 the scene. And then, too, that other master of his 

 art, Edwin Landseer what a new field was here for his 

 truthful pencil ! Hardly a day ever passed but some 

 grand effect, some picturesque group, or some striking 

 incident reminded me of him, and made me wish that 

 he could be there, to catch the happy moment and 

 give it a permanent existence. The peculiar tone of 

 that mountain scenery, the expressive features and 

 bold characteristic bearing of the chamois, the occa- 

 sionally perilous positions of the hunter, all this, and 

 much more beside, would, with his poetic mind and 

 wonderfully skilful handling, afford such pictures as 

 even his hand has not yet produced. 



I had given up my intention of describing the red- 

 deer and the forest as soon as Mr. Scrope's book 



