LIEUT.-COL. DUTHIE ON BRITISH ABODE OF CRESTED TITMOUSE. 151 
Continuing our walk, we leave the beaten track and push our way 
through the screen of young firs crowded together by the roadside, 
and, walking knee-deep through the undercovert of heather, juniper, 
and whortleberry, we reach an open glade, where some real monarchs 
of the forest are standing. These are old veterans, with trunks 
deeply furrowed and seamed, the survivors in the struggle for life, 
which now, with ample room and space, stretch out their arms freely 
and unrestrained in all directions, holding out their clusters of dark 
tufty foliage to the sky, while their lower limbs gracefully feather to 
the ground. 
Further on, is a part of the forest which has been left undisturbed 
for many years. Here, thousands of well-grown trees, pruned by 
Nature’s own devices, rise tall and symmetrical for fifty or sixty feet 
without a branch. In solemn majesty they stand, these numberless 
grey columns, with vistas between their long lines like the aisles of a 
great cathedral; the sunshine streaming here and there through open¬ 
ings in the dark-foliaged roof relieves the deep shade and illuminates 
the rich tones of red, orange, and purple of the boughs which arch 
overhead. The tread of our footsteps falls noiselessly on the thick 
carpet of fir needles, and beast and bird are silent, as if awed in the 
presence of some mysterious spirit. The great stillness is only 
broken by the wind in the fir branches, singing the same song of 
long ago, which has gone on since the world began—the song of 
eternity. It is always heard where the pine trees are, their sensitive 
needle-pointed leaves being ever ready to respond to the faintest 
breath of air which floats along, and so the old, old song is never 
quite hushed. 
On emerging from the shade into the open again, we find animal 
life abundant; a roe-deer springs from her couch in the heather and 
in a few bounds vanishes from view, some blackcocks rise from a 
tangle of briars on the skirts of the wood, and a tree pipit trills 
sweetly as he falls hovering in the air before alighting on the topmost 
twig of a high tree. 
The features of the landscape are now completely changed; we 
have entered a region where the forest has been cleared, and a wide 
expanse of moorland stretches out before us, interspersed with soli¬ 
tary fir trees and little groups of birches in tender green. We push 
on to a keeper’s house which stands on the side of a hill, facing a 
range of mountains where the snow is still lying deep in the corries 
which look to the north. Here we get a magnificent view across a 
broad valley. The deep blue of the distant fir trees and the reddish 
brown of the heather make a glorious purple, and, on this April day, 
there are rainbows marking the course of passing showers on the 
hills. The whole country over which we look is one of great diver- 
