far better than in 1881. A few birds were found dead, which the sportsmen attributed to indigestion.
There is hardly any kind of rural sport of which the characteristics are so picturesque as those of grouse shooting. It is at the golden time of the year, when everything in nature is so beautiful, that we seek out the heath-frequenting broods; when the dear old straths and glens, the sweet heather air, and the birch and hazel, the ferns and ash saplings, the wild lakes and streams and foaming falls, the hills and mountains, are at their best. Truly "Caledonia stern and wild" is the El Dorado—the happy chosen land of the grouse shooter.
Over bank and over brae,
Where the copsewood is the greenest,
Where the fountains glisten sheenest,
Where the lady fern grows strongest,
Where the morning dew lies longest,
Where the blackcock sweetest sips it,
Where the fairy latest trips it;
Hie to haunts right seldom seen,
Lovely, lonesome, cool, and green.
Over bank and over brae,
Hie away! Hie away!
Even in the depth of winter shooting has its attractions. The world of nature is more open to us. Especially lovely are the lakes and meres when frost has bound the land in its iron chain, when the hills and vales are clad in snow, and the wild fowl peal
forth sweet music to the whistling winds as they
