of the Old World. 209 



the pathless forest, and there despoiled him of his 

 trophies, or pursued the watchful ibex from crag to 

 crag, over precipices, chasms, and ledges of rock 

 which men dared not look down in their cooler 

 moments ! Many a hand I then clasped has become 

 cold, many a voice I loved to listen to is hushed for 

 ever ; he with whom I have often scoured the plain 

 and struggled for the spear after the mighty grey 

 boar, fell a shattered wreck before my eyes in the 

 van of the fight that murky morn when " the Six 

 Hundred" charged. There are times when the past 

 comes before me with sadly painful distinctness, and 

 my heart yearns to return once more to that land 

 where I have passed the happiest years of my life, 

 and to revisit those scenes which are engraven in my 

 memory in strong and ineffaceable colours, although 

 I know that my merry companions are gone, and 

 that their places are occupied by strangers. Who 

 among us have not some sunny spots in their exis- 

 tence, some remembrance of happier days gone by 

 which they love to look back upon with pleasure, 

 however bright future prospects may appear ? Almost 

 all of us have some fondly cherished souvenir or trophy 

 upon which we love to gaze and think of the past, 

 until the soul-stirring scenes of " auld lang syne " again 

 come vividly to mind ; and although we feel that they 

 may never come again, we look back with pleasure 

 upon the time when sunshine illumined our path. 



p 



