130 ORNITHOLOGICAL RAMBLES. 



desirous of diversifying the day's proceedings, I set 

 to work to ascend the hill immediately above me. The 

 slope was seriously steep, and wet and slippery under 

 foot. Having made about two-thirds of its height, the 

 rumble of a rivulet under my feet almost prevented my 

 hearing the cry of a buzzard above me. The note of 

 this bird is so peculiar, that I thought of the words 

 quoted by Scott in " Waverley " : 



" She shudders and stops as the charm she speaks : 

 Is it the moody owl that shrieks ? 

 Or is it that sound betwixt laughter and scream, 

 The voice of the demon who haunts the stream ? 

 St. Swithiris Chair. 



I could not, however, discern the bird. Stimulated 

 thereby I doubled my exertions, and, having gained 

 another ledge, I looked up, and perceived a magnifi- 

 cent specimen on the wing, though he quickly settled 

 on a point of the craig above my head. I soon made a 

 slight detour, with the intention of stalking him. The 

 last part of the acclivity was very steep, but I reached 

 the summit, and was creeping on to the ledge above 

 him, when he again took wing out of gunshot, and 

 circled imposingly over the very lake itself. His 

 distant cry now died away, and I lost sight of him for 

 ever. Terribly out of breath, I rested upon a piece of 

 rock jutting out invitingly from the grassy steep, and 

 as welcome to my weary muscles as the water-plant to 

 the., thirsty African. The scene that met my gaze wa* 



