WILD SPORTS OF THE WEST. 



CHAPTER XXXVI 



A MONTH had passed : winter comes on with giant 

 strides, and the last lingering recollections of autumn 

 are over The weather becomes more rainy and tem- 

 pestuous ; and bogs, which we once crossed easily, 

 owing to the continued wet, are now quite impass- 

 able. The swell, which during the summer months, 

 came in in long and measured undulations, breaks in 

 masses across the bar, and sends a broken and tumbling 

 sea inside the estuary, so as to render it unsafe to expose 

 any boat of heavy tonnage to its influence. Pattigo 

 seldom ventures from his anchorage, and when last he 

 ventured to pass a night at the pier, he ground away 

 a hawser against the stones, notwithstanding every pains 

 were bestowed in renewing its service. The springs 

 are usually high ; and two nights since, the Lodge and 

 paddocks were completely insulated and our commu- 

 nications with the mainland carried on by ferriage. 

 The river rises fearfully, and the hugh masses of turf 

 left along the strand, prove how violent the mountain 

 torrents must be at this advanced season. The sweet 

 and crystal stream is nowhere seen ; and Scott's 

 beautiful lines happily describe the turbid river that has 

 replaced it : 



" Late, gazing down the steepy linn 

 That hems our little garden in, 

 Low in its dark and narrow glen, 

 You scarce the rivulet might ken, 

 So thick the tangled greenwood erew, 

 So feebly trill 'd the streamlet through; 

 Now, murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen ; 

 Through bush and briar no longer green. 

 An angry brook it sweeps the glade, 

 Brawls over rock and wild cascade." 



