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A SPEING WEEK IN THE WEST HIGHLANDS. 



THE lark, with his song of glee, and the lapwings, as they 

 wheeled about, tumbling and chasing each other, with their 

 vernal scream of ecstasy, had given some cheerfulness to the 

 dull sown fields of the Lothians, when a short tour was recom- 

 mended for the health of my youngest child. I had seen 

 enough of the lovely glen which separates the Holy Loch from 

 Loch Eck, in my shooting and fishing excursions, to make me 

 long to penetrate farther ; so, with the hearty concurrence of 

 my fellow-travellers, it was to this inlet of the West Highlands 

 that we directed our course. 



An easy steam passage brought us to Kilmun, and next 

 morning we skirted the Echaig, 1 which, like a band of silver, 

 unites the two lochs. Every object here was familiar. M'Erle's 

 pool, famous for a stray grilse ; Ouig Hill, appropriately pro- 

 nounced wig by the natives, from its rough long heather ; and 



1 I had this salmon-stream, and the shooting of Kilmun hills, taken from Mr 

 Campbell of Monzie. In addition to salmon and grilse, the river abounds with 

 sea-trout : I have killed forty in about six hours. Thews and sinews are required 

 to travel the moor. It is a sort of peninsula, jutting out between Loch Long and 

 the Holy Loch, on which account scarcely a bird escapes the boundary. The 

 grouse are pretty regularly distributed, and, with really good dogs, no man need 

 return dissatisfied. At the beginning of the season, when the tops of the hills 

 are the best range, the eye rests upon views singularly bold and varied. For the 

 first few weeks I generally averaged from twelve to eighteen brace a-day, besides 

 hares and snipe. The woodcock-shooting is the best in Cowal. 



