TO THE SCAURDALE. 67 



lecting and lingering about the mouth, were at length 

 able to make their way up the stream, and were now 

 doing so in great numbers. 



Alister being an experienced hand, the needful 

 preparations were left to his discretion ; and the first 

 beam of the morning saw us seated in a trap behind a 

 stout Highland pony, and starting for the scene of sport 

 in prospectu. It was a lovely morning, somewhat chill, 

 but with a sky cloudless, save where a small speck here 

 and there dotted the welkin, and from its rich roseate 

 fringe foretold the coining of the yet invisible " lamp 

 of day." Such mornings however are frequently, 

 indeed generally, succeeded by a rainy day; and we 

 began to fear dirty weather, and an increased "speyet." 

 The rivers were already sufficiently high; and, as an 

 additional flood would not improve the fishing, the 

 prospect was not cheering ; but we hoped for the best. 



Of our route, pretty as it was, and characteristic of 

 the Highlands, I will endeavour to give the best 

 description I can. 



For the first half-dozen miles there was nothing very 

 striking ; but we then began to wind our way through 

 a birchen forest, the trees lining the road on either 

 side, almost meeting over our heads, completely shut- 

 ting us in, and imparting an air of seclusion, which, 

 with the deathlike silence that reigned around, un- 

 broken save by the clinking of the pony and the 

 rumble of the wheels, seemed to communicate itself to 

 our feelings and to cast a spell on our tongues. Occa- 

 sionally, as we got a glimpse along some glade in the 

 forest, we saw the black-cock stealing off to the shelter 

 of the ferns, or the roe in security straining its pretty 

 neck to reach the tenderest shoots on the birchen 

 bough. Altogether, it was such a morning as I never 



