86 POIT BHBUICH. 



near the summit of a kind of projecting buttress was 

 the nest of a raven. At one time the eyrie of a pair of 

 eagles, it had been abandoned by its former kingly 

 inhabitants on the approach of civilisation, and for 

 many years had been tenanted by the less noble raven. 

 Though apparently inaccessible to humanity, Donald 

 told me that he had once climbed his way to it, an 

 experiment however which he did not seem disposed 

 to repeat. 



From their mischievous and destructive habits, the 

 birds had become obnoxious, and Donald had recently 

 exterminated the whole family, parents and brood, by 

 firing at them from below. We could distinguish with 

 our glasses where the rock had been shivered by his 

 bullets, and his quick eye detected the feathers of the 

 fast rotting mass, consisting of parents and young 

 piled together on the rock. We presently reached the 

 banks of the Redburn, which we had to cross on our 

 way home. But being still somewhat swollen, the 

 water did not look at all tempting, and we paused on 

 the brink, doubtful whether to venture into the current 

 or not. While however we were demurring, Donald 

 came to our relief, by promising that if we would 

 follow his guidance we should pass over dryfoot, a 

 proposal which we were only too glad to accept. 

 Accordingly, preceded by him, we took a short cut 

 across the muir, leaving the stream for awhile, though 

 only that we might return to it further down. A walk 

 of a few minutes brought us to a creek into which the 

 river discharged itself; and as we stood on an elevated 

 rock overlooking it, our guide pointed out the spot at 

 which he assured us we might cross with safety. Two 

 huge rocky buttresses jutted out on either side the 

 stream, and from our present position seemed to meet 



