CAPERCAILLIE 29 



the heart of the true sportsman, as he sits snugly behind 

 some fallen tree or boulder, on a bright winter's morning, 

 and draws the keen frosty air into his lungs, feeling the 

 blood mounting to his cheek, than to let his delighted 

 eyes wander over the distant landscape down to the wind- 

 ing river that creeps on like a silver streak far away in 

 the valley below ? A feeling of content steals over him 

 and overcomes any little internal resentment that he may 

 have felt for a moment in having been forced to climb to 

 that lofty perch. Peace and quietness reign supreme 

 around him, and the funereal silence of the woods is only 

 broken, now and again, by the perky little squirrels cast- 

 ing down the fir-cones in wanton sport, running and 

 gambolling about in front of him, as if fear were to them 

 a thing unknown. Ever and again a faint breeze will 

 stir the topmost branches of the trees and waft the frag- 

 rant incense of the pines towards him, so that he feels he 

 is amply recompensed for all those long and weary office- 

 hours he has spent in the City, and it is worth the toil 

 twice over to spend such moments as these. Now he can 

 at any rate shake off the worries that have oppressed him, 

 and from which no man is free, and can take Dame Nature 

 by the hand and she will put on her loveliest raiment for 

 his special edification whilst they wander fancy free 

 together. He sits watching her varied beauties with 

 feelings that would do justice to a Sunday-school teacher, 

 till the heavy flappings of one of his would-be victims as 

 he alights on a tree warns him that it is time to turn his 

 attention to grosser things and the destruction of one of 

 the most beautiful of the fair Lady's works he has so 

 lately been admiring. Such, alas ! is the inconsistency of 



