232 HAPPY HUNTING-GEOUNDS 



the Knapdale Hills, and before very long a faint pink 

 halo begins to tinge the distant horizon, and soon 



" Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day 

 Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain brow." 



The morning is all that could be desired ; there is 

 just a catch of white frost, and just enough wind to 

 make the pheasants fly. I can see one or two " stops " 

 already in their places on the flat between the window 

 and the sea which divides Calton Mor wood from 

 Barsloisnach, the high wooded rock above the farm. 

 Devoutly do I hope that they will succeed in keeping 

 a good head of birds in that rather thin covert, for 

 the Barsloisnach pheasant is something of a revela- 

 tion. I have seen a good many high pheasants in my 

 time : they flew well at Wimpole when Arthur Wood 

 hired it and asked me to his shooting ; or, nearer 

 London, they were remarkably tall near the lodge 

 and over the railway at Kingswood Warren, in the 

 reign of Cosmo Bonsor, when even such experts as Mr. 

 Rimington Wilson found their mettle tried. Perhaps 

 the highest birds I have ever seen in England were 

 at Roche Abbey, in Yorkshire, where the guns were 

 placed in a deep valley between two hills, as in the 

 present case, but none equal the height of the Barslois- 

 nach pheasants. We number eight guns, all nearly 

 related by blood or marriage except two Tom Murray, 

 most genial and trustworthy of Edinburgh writers, 

 and his son. These two are a standing Christmas 

 dish at Poltalloch, as welcome and as necessary as the 

 mince-pies and plum-puddings. One gun goes round 

 to the other side to walk up the road from the lodge, 

 and take any birds that may try to break away to 



