CHAP. XXII] THE FINDHORN RIVER. 177 
CHAPTER XXII. 
The Findborn River—Excursion to Source—Deer-stalking—Shepherds— 
Hind and Calf—Heavy Rain—Floods—Walk to Lodge—Fine Morning— 
Highland Sheep—Banks of River—Cottages. 
I po not know a stream that more completely realizes all one’s 
ideas of the beauty of Highland scenery than the Findhorn, 
taking it from the spot where it is no more than a small rivulet, 
bubbling and sparkling along a narrow gorge in the far-off re- 
cesses of the Monaghliahd mountains, down to the Bay of Find- 
horn, where its accumulated waters are poured into the Moray 
Firth. From source to mouth, this river is full of beauty and 
interest. 
On a bright August day, the 6th of the month, I joined a friend 
in a deer-stalking expedition, near the source of the Findhorn, 
in the Monaghliahd. We went from near Inverness to our 
quarters. For the greatest part of our way our road was over 
a flat though elevated range of dreary moor, more interesting to 
the eye of a grouse-shooter than to any one else. When within 
a few miles of the end of our journey, the Findhorn came in 
sight, passing like a silver stripe, edged with bright green, 
through the brown mountains, and sparkling brightly in the 
evening sun. The sides of the hills immediately overhanging 
the river are clothed with patches of weeping-birch and juniper, 
with here and there a black hut perched on a green knoll, dotted 
with groves of the rugged and ancient-looking birch-trees. About 
these solitary abodes, too, were small patches of oats and potatoes, 
The mavis with its joyous note, and the blackbird’s occasional 
full and rich song, greeted us as we passed through these wooded 
tracts. Sometimes a wood-pigeon would crash through the 
branches close to us as we wound round some corner of the 
- wood. 
Having arrived at our destination, we made ourselves as com- 
fortable as we could, and reured to rest. 
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