50 NATURAL HIS7VRY OF THE HARE 



the world like an army of Highland warriors, ranged 

 as it were shoulder to shoulder. A little further to 

 the north their fellows start up irregularly against the 

 skyline. Their desolation witnesses to the terrible 

 force of the tornado which devastated that and many 

 another goodly forest during the darkness of a winter 

 night. The natural terraces which run parallel to one 

 another on the nearer braes are red with heather, still 

 retaining the pride of maturity. 



Swiftly as the rays of light are departing, I can 

 just detect the touch of autumn in the dulled tone of 

 the leaves that still cluster closely to the twigs of the 

 roadway lime-tree. Suddenly my reverie is interrupted 

 by the sharp crack of a farmer's gun. Instantly it 

 travels across the water below, assuring me of the 

 untimely sorrow which has overtaken the blue ' cushie 

 doo ' at its own roost, its favourite trysting place. It 

 is now that my favourite, the brown hare, awakes and 

 rises from the form in which she has found repose 

 since early morning. She sleeps, it is true, with open 

 eyes ; but her dark irides are now lighted with intel- 

 ligence. Brushing aside the handful of faded leaves 

 which had fallen upon her soft coat. Puss proceeds to 

 stretch her shapely limbs with all the easy grace 

 peculiar to a wild animal. Refreshed and invigorated 

 by her period of inaction, she proceeds to make. a. 



