THE PEAT ISLE. 239 



with its young brood. The chicks run very soon, but are 

 so difficult to find, that upon some of our Lowland moors I 

 have counted at least a dozen pairs of old birds, yet have not 

 stumbled on a single young one. As I was returning one 

 day from fishing, my old dog found and pointed a couple, 

 which I transferred to my creel, and had dressed for the 

 table. They were nearly full grown, but could not fly a 

 yard. The young curlews are great annoyances to the 

 gamekeeper, from the facility with which they elude 

 even the best-trained pointers. The dog is continually 

 touching upon their scent, which distracts his attention 

 from game; but he scarcely ever "winds" one, to make 

 amends for this waste of time. Before the 12th of August, 

 however, all the curlews have left. 



Many years ago, an eccentric man was tempted to raise 

 a house on the Peat Isle. He put up four substantial walls, 

 but stopped payment at the roof; and this edifice, so far as 

 it goes, still stands, a monument of his folly. It has often, 

 however, been useful to us as an observatory for wild-fowl. 



The sheep-pasture of this island is peculiarly rich, and 

 always in great request among the farmers. It is seldom, 

 however, that its quiet is disturbed by the presence either 

 of a shepherd or his dog. Should any traveller chance to 

 read this description, and look down upon my lowly island 

 from one of its commanding neighbours, no doubt he 

 would wonder at my selection. There is, indeed, no 

 waving copse, no rocky height, with its varied view, to 

 entrance the summer visitor, but it has to me even a 

 greater charm in its wild and lonely seclusion. 



