226 SEPTEMBER 



the other, with several praiseworthy stags, feeding 

 very slowly to ground where it may be possible to 

 get a shot at them. Meanwhile, there is plenty of 

 company. Ptarmigan are purring, growling, and 

 chuckling within forty yards of my lair ; a blue hare 

 (not really more blue than Buckingham Palace in a 

 fog) lobs slowly past and disappears in the mist; 

 two or three golden plover signal to each other in 

 heartbroken notes ; and a raven flaps heavily along 

 the hill-brow, coarsely croaking. There is nothing 

 very cheerful except the ptarmigan, and heaven 

 only knows how these jolly birds keep up their 

 spirits. They are very showy just now in silver 

 grey coats and white facings, intermediate between 

 summer and winter plumage. There is no eagle on 

 the hill to-day, or even they would not be so lively. 

 It is a marvel how these fine birds make out a living. 

 The hill-top is like a rough sea-beach at low tide, 

 nearly all stones, and between them only a carpet of 

 weather- wan moss, a few crowberry plants, alchemilla, 

 saxifrage, stag's horn, and scattered blades of wiry 

 grass. We are far above the heather line here ; even 

 at midsummer there must be precious little to eat, 

 except the delicious cloudberries, and the finger 

 of winter has seared the vegetation already. Yet 



