REMINISCENCES OF A KOSS-SHIRE FOREST. 145 



purporting to be written " by gentlemen for gentle- 

 men." Most papers are written by a class for a class 

 the ' Morningside Mirror,' l for example ; and on 

 the hypothesis that the production of " Spectator " is 

 by an imbecile for imbeciles, it is quite comprehen- 

 sible, but on no other, for greater trash printer's 

 devil never put together. If you walk across a 

 forest, my dear " Spectator," you won't, as you very 

 sagaciously observe, hurt the stones or heather who 

 out of Hanwell ever said you would 1 but you will 

 frighten the deer off the place ; they will see you or 

 smell you you or any one else, I mean a tourist 

 by any other name would smell as strong, not only 

 that, but they won't cross your track for hours 

 together. You stop them as effectually as if you 

 built a stone wall. " Gross exaggeration." Oh no, 

 it isn't. I've proved it time after time. I've seen 

 a stag so terrified by a track that, rather than cross 

 it, he preferred coming back to where a shot had been 

 fired not twenty minutes before ; and he came back 

 once too often too. 



Some years ago, the box-seat of a coach running 



1 Morningside is one of the suburbs of Edinburgh, where 

 a pleasant retreat, similar to that at Colney Hatch, is situ- 

 ated. It is here that the Modern Athenians, who, from 

 putting too much water to their whisky, or from some other 

 reason to the author unknown, have gone wrong in the head, 

 are taken care of. A small magazine, ycleped the ' Mirror,' 

 is written and published by the inmates. 



VOL. V. K 



