CH11ISTOPHER IN HIS SPORTING JACKET 



know that but one single fish has run up from the sea 

 so we, a true hunter, neither grudged nor wearied 

 to stand for hours, still as the heron by the stream, 

 hardly in hope, but satisfied with the possibility, that 

 a deer might pass by us in the desert. Steadiest and 

 strongest is self-fed passion springing in spite of cir- 

 cumstance. When blows the warm showery south-west 

 wind, the trouts turn up their yellow sides at every 

 dropping of the fly on the curling water and the 

 angler is soon sated with the perpetual play. But 

 once twice thrice during a long blustering day 

 the sullen plunge of a salmon is sufficient for that 

 day^s joy. Still, therefore, still as a cairn that stands 

 for ever on the hill, or rather as the shadow on a dial, 

 that though it moves is never seen to move, day after 

 day were we on our station in the Great Glen. A 

 loud, wild, wrathful, and savage cry from some huge 

 animal made our heart leap to our mouth, and bathed 

 our forehead in sweat. We looked up and a red-deer 

 a stag of ten the king of the forest stood with 

 all his antlers, snuffing the wind, but yet blind to our 

 figure overshadowed by a rock. The rifle-ball pierced 

 his heart and leaping up far higher than our head, 

 he tumbled in terrific death, and lay stone-still before 

 our starting eyes amid the rustling of the strong- 

 bented heather! There we stood surveying him for a 

 long triumphing hour. Ghastly were his glazed eyes 

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