amazement, the panting Sassenach or Lowlander is told that he is within fair rifle-distance of a bevy of noble harts.

After deer have been stalked and shot at, they become much wilder; the best sport at the old harts is therefore obtained at the beginning of the season. They generally keep together, and when their stately mien and branching antlers are seen in the distance, it is enough to inspirit the most apathetic; but when told to cock his doublebarrelled rifle for a shot, I could well excuse a novice for being scarcely able to obey. When there are hinds in the herd, they often present themselves between you and the unsuspecting harts; but even should they be at a distance, great caution is necessary, as, if one hind gets a glimpse of the crouching enemy, the whole herd, stags and all, are sure to scamper away, amidst the bitter execrations of the forester upon its hornless head.

The next best time for a shot at a fine old stag, after they have become wild, is about the beginning of October, when each lot of hinds is sure to contain a good hart. The chances then may often not be so good, but from the stags being dispersed, there are more of them. If deer are feeding forward, it requires very nice calculation, when at a distance, to know the point they will arrive at by the time you have neared them, especially as a shower of rain or a gust of wind will quicken their motions. But if the stalker is not far from the herd, which is feeding up to his place of concealment, with a favourable wind, he should not grudge waiting; for, by sending round drivers to windward of the deer, they are often apt to turn and

face them. I can't say that driving, under any circumstances, gives half the pleasure that stalking does; for my own part, I would rather kill one stalked hart than several driven. Driving, however, upon a large scale has a most imposing effect, and, although it cannot be otherwise than injurious to a forest, yet the exhilarating nature of the whole proceedings, in which so many friends may join, often makes the proprietor overlook the consternation and panic it creates among the wild and timid herd. Some part of the forest is selected to which the deer are to be driven; a great number of hill-men and shepherds, who thoroughly understand what they are about, are then sent to the furthest extremity to bring all the deer they can collect to this spot; the passes, of course, being well known, are occupied by the sportsmen with their rifles. The drivers sometimes hallooing, and sometimes giving their wind, gradually contract their circle; the deer are huddled together, and, finding the only clear ground in the direction of the rifles, slowly and cautiously take their doomed way. There is often great difficulty in driving them, as they are always obliged to go with the wind, which their natural instinct of self-preservation makes them very unwilling to do, and, if they possibly can, they always face it. When the herd come within distance of the rifles, great mischief often ensues; the nervous and indifferent shot firing into the centre of the living mass, while even the experienced deer-stalker, in singling out the stag-royal, may sometimes wound a couple of hinds beyond him.

So much for driving on grand occasions, which gives the shooter a tolerably snug sinecure until the game comes up to his hand. But when it is practised in a small way, there is no sport which more calls into play his pluck and endurance of fatigue. He first climbs to the ridge of the hill, where he is at once seen by the hawk-eyed driver who has taken his station near the foot, or on the opposite brow, and has marked with his glass every herd at feed or rest on the face below. As soon as he has selected one, he attempts to drive it up the hill, towards the sportsman, either by hallooing or showing himself; at the same time giving warning by the manner of his halloo which way they are likely to take. The sportsman must be thoroughly acquainted with all the passes, or have some person with him who is; and, running from one "snib" to another, in obedience to the signal below, catch sight of the horns of the herd, as, with serpentine ascent, they wind their wary way. From the zigzag manner in which they often come up, it is very difficult to make sure which pass will be the favoured one, and I have been within a few hundred yards of the antlers when the prolonged shout from below has warned me that I had an almost perpendicular shoulder of the hill to breast at my utmost speed before I could hope to obtain the much-desired shot. If the wind is at all high, so determined are the deer to face it, that, unless there are a great number of drivers, one herd after another may take the wrong direction; but, if the day is favourable, with only a light breeze, a knowing driver or two will generally manage to send them up to the rifle.

When the deer have selected their pass, should you be within fair distance, with both barrels cocked, beware of making the slightest motion, especially of the head, until you mean to fire. Even when perfectly in view, if you lie flat and don't move, the herd are almost sure to pass. One or two hinds generally take the lead. The fine old harts, if there are any in the herd, often come next, but sometimes, if very fat and lazy, they lag in the rear. When the first few hinds have fairly passed, the rest are sure to follow, until their line is broken, and their motions are quickened, by a double volley from the rifle.

When stalking (September 1840) in Glenartney forest, by the kind permission of the noble owner, I had as fine a chance as man could wish spoiled by the scarcely audible whimper of a dog. I was placed in a most advantageous spot, within near distance of the pass. Presently an old hind came picking her stately steps, like a lady of the old school ushering her company to the dining-room. Next her came a careless three-year-old hart, looking very anxious to get forward, and perfectly regardless of danger. All was now safe, I felt sure of my shot; when, horror of horrors! a slight whimper was heard. The old hind listened, halted, and then turned short round upon the young hart, who instantly followed her example, and the whole herd ran helter-skelter down the hill. The unfortunate sound proceeded from one of the forester's two colleys, the only dogs Lord Willoughby allows in the forest; they are kept for the purpose of bringing to bay any deer badly wounded, and are never

slipped upon other occasions. The mar-plot above alluded to is an old dog, and very good for the purpose; he had winded without seeing the deer-hence his mistake.

Glenartney is a beautiful little forest, walled round by fine green hills, but the deer being too numerous for its extent, are rather small. It also stands high, and is not so well sheltered as might be desired; on which account the deer, when the winter storm sets in severely, although fed to the full, cannot remain to eat their food, and are obliged to seek the shelter of the woods for many miles round, far beyond their bounds. At night they wander to the turnip-fields for sustenance, where numbers are shot by poachers, who watch the gates and openings into the fields. One man boasted to me that he had in that manner killed six during one storm, with a common fowling-piece loaded with ball. The turnip-field where he performed this feat was more than twelve miles from the forest.

*

Perhaps as fine deer as any in the kingdom are those of the Black Mount. The cup on the top of the horns of many, according to Highland phrase, would hold a gill of whisky; and yet there are heads now preserved in Taymouth Castle, which show that their forefathers, though fewer in number, were even greater than they. The Black Mount is twenty-one miles long by twelve broad; and the Marquis of Breadalbane, notwithstanding his numerous engagements in public life, has not neglected this noble appanage of a Highland proprietor. No expense or

*The three top prongs of the horn, growing out together, form a cup. There is no cup at all except in the finest and oldest stags.