192 



THE ANGLER'S SOUVENIR. 



of the highest cliff, we would find the broken shells 

 of eggs dropped by pigeon or crow in their flight, 

 or laid on the ground ; and in the marshy spots the 

 nests of the lapwing and curlew. 



The whirring of grouse, the laugh of the kestrel, 

 the croak of the raven which we startled from the 

 carcase of a dead sheep, the cry of the curlew, and 

 the plaint of the lapwing these were the sounds 

 that met our ears and enchanted us in the days 

 of our youth, and ring in our ears in the night 

 watches now, so that we long to be " off and away 

 to the muirs." 



" Crawling up through burn and bracken, louping down 



the screes ; 

 Looking out frae craig and headland, drinking up the 



simmer breeze. 

 Oh, the wafts o' heather honey, and the music o' the 



brae !" 



On these moors are lonely tarns, which we were 

 satisfied held big fish, though we seldom caught 

 any ; and piled-up cairns, redolent of ancient 

 story ; so that there were all the elements of 

 romance ready to hand for us. 



The hand of the spoiler is already at work \ipon 

 the fair face of the cliffs. The limestone quarries 

 rend and tear it in many a place where we have 

 striven in vain to climb the weather-beaten rock. 

 In one place now vanished was a sort of natural 

 stair, blocked at the top by a huge stone, under- 

 neath which was a crevice wide enough for a slim 



