servation; but Sandy had the advantage of having previously seen the beast. I began to search the whole hill as the others had done, but had taken good care to mark well the direction Sandy had examined so closely. Over this part I passed the glass twenty times without seeing anything; at last I perceived something that excited my suspicions. "Have they burned any of the heather, thereabout?" said I, indicating the spot.

66

Why do you think So, sir ?" said Sandy.

"Because I fancy I see some dead wood."

"Ay, ye dinna ken a stag's horn frae a burnt bush yet, sir; but it's na the first time you hae run a glass o'er a hill-side. It's just him

crouched in the heather."

I had thought so, but did not like to say it for fear I might be wrong, and then there would have been a good laugh against me.

Campbell took the glass again and found him in an instant, but was evidently not pleased at my having seen the stag before he did."

"I never thought I was blind till now," he said, "to pass a stag where it's as plain to be seen as the bull's-eye on a soldier's target."

I was not so clear about that, but did not dispute the point. Having found the object of our anxious search, the next thing was to try and get a shot at it. The wind was very favourable for the stalk, still due west. Campbell carefully examined the position-a plain between two glens that were branches of the great glen I intended shooting, forming a fork, near the base of which was the wood. He, knowing every inch of the ground perfectly, pronounced that there were two ways of stalking up to him: the one was to take the southern course of the glen, which was the shortest, and which, if he remained quiet, would bring me within a fair shot of him; but the side of the glen was very stiff to mount opposite to where the stag was. The other course, which was a much longer one, led round to the back of the cairn, but there would be a fine chance for a shot if it could be reached without disturbing him. I decided taking the southern course, which, though much the nearer cut, was still a stiffish pull. Sandy and Co., with the pony, were to remain where they were and watch proceedings, in case the stag should move while we were in the wood. How I wished that Sir A. was with us, for he could have taken one course and I the other; nothing but a blunder could have prevented our killing the stag. In order to get into the glen, we were obliged to retrace our steps for some distance. There was no difficulty about that up to a certain point, as the wood covered us, but when we got within a couple of hundred yards of the glen, Campbell gave me all kinds of caution, for we had then to pass a piece of ground in full view of the stag.

"You must creep here, sir, till we get to the knoll; for if he were to catch a glimpse of us, even at this distance-nearly a mile off, as the crow flies-he would soon be over the march."

He took the rifle and commenced his serpent's crawl. You would have fancied he had never been on his legs in his life to see the pace he went at. I followed in the wake, and really, considering the size of body I had to conceal, acted boa-constrictor marvellously well. We soon reached the knoll, which covered us until we were at the edge of the glen, when, holding on by a hazel-bush, Campbell let himself drop into the

welcome shelter. I followed suit, and then loaded the rifle. Campbell took the glass to see if all was right. I also had a peep. There lay the noble beast. You could see his head and part of his back. I should like to have watched his movements for some minutes, but we had no time to lose, as there was at least a mile and a half of very difficult ground to go over before we should be opposite him, as the glen twisted about in all directions. I took Campbell's stick and gave him the rifle to carry. The great danger of disturbing the stag was through the black game, which were very plentiful there, and kept getting up every minute; but fortunately they nearly all headed to the great glen. In the excitement of getting thus far we had never once looked back. What then was my astonishment to find old Drake at my heels. I could have sworn he had not followed at the start, which was the case. The gillie had let him go when trying to couple the other dogs. What was to be done? If I went back I should be beat before I got up to the stag, and Campbell would never be able to get him past the open ground, as he certainly would not follow him. We had no cord to tie him with, so there was nothing for it but to trust to his sagacity. He had often stalked wild fowl, when he always remained between my legs. I determined, therefore, to take my chance rather than turn back with him. Campbell evidently was not pleased. "Dom the dog!" I heard him mutter between his teeth. Once in in the glen I had hoped that my stalk would have been simple enough; but I little guessed, in spite of all the warning I had received, what there was to encounter. It was one continued series of scrambling over slippery rocks, and forcing through very thick underwood, unless we preferred being up to our knees in a burn. I toiled and laboured, puffed and blew, until I had half made up my mind to tell Campbell to go on by himself and shoot the deer; a proposition which I doubt not would have delighted him amazingly. To add to my misery, I had tumbled down and severely bruised my knee-cap, and barked my shin down to the ankle. I rubbed hard at it, but could not rub the pain out. However, in spite of all difficulties, I still dragged on, only, much to Campbell's disgust, taking two or three minutes' rest every now and then. During one of these moments of repose he scrambled like a cat to the top of the glen to take another look at the stag. He came down in a great hurry, and told me we must push on, as the hart had got up and would probably move away. We should soon be within shot, as he was not much more than three hundred yards off. If we could only get to a bush, which he pointed out, in time, I should have a fine chance. I felt new life at the speedy prospect of so glorious an end to my labours, and arrived under the bush pretty fresh. I got half way up the side of the glen, which was very steep, rugged, and difficult of ascent, and halted for a moment, that I might not be blown when I had to shoot. Just as I sat down, Campbell, who had gone up to the bush, beckoned me impatiently to join him. Up I got, and was there in a minute. I was fixed to the spot. The stag, as fine a beast as man need ever wish to see, was walking quietly away at three hundred yards' distance. It was to be thus disappointed that I had toiled all this distance, and maimed myself, for I now felt great pain in my knee, to say nothing of having made rags of my new trousers. "If we had only been five minutes sooner, he was ours," said Campbell, accompanying the observation with something in

Gaelic, which, from the way it was uttered, was, I fear, not a blessing, on my dilatory proceedings. I was much inclined to take a chance, and cocked my rifle. "Dinna fire, 'twould be na use. Ye could na kill him the way he stands unless ye hit him in the head, and ye canna mak' sure o' that. Wait a wee. He is na scared, but just worried by the flies"-(they had nearly driven me mad)-"he may lie down again." We waited a long half-hour watching his movements. He occasionally nipped a piece of tempting grass, then lay down for a minute, when up he would get and stamp his foot with rage at the flies. "Whist! he is heading to the corrie. If he'll only lie down there we may have him yet, and without as much trouble as you may think, sir," said Campbell. "But I hope your leg will na get worse. It was a sair knock you gave it. He is close to the corrie now." Sure enough down he went, and as soon as he was covered, all to his horns, Campbell got up and ran for the back of a knoll, which was about a hundred yards distant. I was well rested, but my knee was very stiff and painful. Nevertheless I ran the distance, as if my life, instead of the stag's, depended on the time I did it in. We reached the cover in safety, Drake and all, who stuck like a leech to my heels. We could now push on in safety nearly to the other glen, keeping his horns in view; and only once had we occasion to stop and be very cautious, which was at a pass between two hills. "We canna quit the knoll yet,' said Campbell; "he would see us in the pass. Wait a wee, and keep a good look-out that ye dinna see too much of his horns."

Two or three times he advanced, and we had to retreat almost to the bottom of the hill. He was at too long a range for a certain shot, but I was prepared to take a chance, expecting every instant that he would top the knoll, but he fortunately changed his direction a little. As he receded we advanced. At last we suddenly lost sight of him entirely.

"He is lyin' down in the corrie, and he's yours now, sir, if you can only handle the rifle half as well as you do the gun. Now run for the back of the knoll. Frae that we shall be in the glen in a minute."

We were there almost before Campbell had finished speaking. Indeed, he was still whispering something when we let ourselves down. We did not descend to the bottom, but crept along the side, which we could do without much difficulty, as the grass and rough heather were strong enough to hold on by, and the wind was so favourable there was no chance of disturbing him if we kept out of sight. I rested a little before I mounted the rock, a signal from Campbell, who was already there, having warned me that all was right. I soon joined him, and through a cleft in the rock saw the object of all my anxiety quietly crouched in the corrie at about eighty yards distant. I gently cocked both barrels, and was ready to have a crack at him the moment he rose. I could not make sure of him in the position he was lying in. I was not kept very long in suspense, for the instant the muzzle of the rifle passed the opening, up he got; probably he had caught a glimpse of the sun shining on the barrel. I was as quick as he, being fully prepared, and as soon as he was on his legs, crack went old Purdy, and I heard that pleasant, unmistakable sound when a bullet finds a soft resting-place. He bounded forward and fell upon his knees, but was up in an instant and heading away. I ran three or four paces up the rock. I could then see nothing but his head and neck. I let fly the second barrel, and evidently hit him 2 c

VOL. XLII.

hard, for he staggered and nearly fell upon his side. I jumped up and ran down the rocks like mad, and got on to the plain just in time to see old Drake-who, contrary to his usual custom, had started off the moment I fired the first shot-come up to him, about three hundred yards off, as he was feebly endeavouring to head up to the cairn:

On the brink of the rock, lo! he standeth at bay,
Like a victor that falls at the close of the day.

There he was trying to face the old dog, but evidently his deathstruggle was at hand, poor beast. The first wound had been mortal. Once or twice he staggered forward, endeavouring to pin old Drake, then rolled over on his side, and just as I came up Campbell placed his knee on his bleeding neck, and the knife was at his throat. He was, as Sandy had said, a noble hart, with a magnificent head of ten points. His brow antlers were the finest I almost ever saw. I should not have envied old Drake much if he had had strength to use them. The wood of the horn was very thick, and beautifully knotted. My first shot had been a deadly one. I was above him when I fired, and the ball had passed behind the shoulder low down, and had come out on the other side, close to his elbow, grazing the heart in its passage. It was astonishing, with such a fearful wound, that he should have gone even so far as he did. The second shot had not been a bad one either, under the circumstances, for it had made a good groove in his neck; an inch more to the right it would have broken it. The pony was coming up, Sandy having started the moment he heard me fire. He had let both my setters loose, I suppose that they might join the chase if necessary, which certainly would have tended much to steady them for the rest of the season. Old Drake's performance saved the gillie a good blowing up. We found it no easy matter transporting our prize across the glen; that accomplished, we were not long in tying it to the pony and starting it home, where I was obliged to follow, as I could scarcely walk. Having, on my arrival at the lodge, bathed my knee for about an hour in hot water, I felt tolerably comfortable. Just as I came down stairs, Sir A. arrived in the yard.

Well, what luck?" said I.

"I

"No such luck as yours, I am sorry to say," was his answer. saw a stag, but, before it was possible to get near him, an old beast of a cock grouse, which I had unfortunately put up, flew straight over his head, and away he bolted to the big wood that joins the march. I followed him of course as far as there was any trace to be seen, but I might as well have looked for a needle in a haystack as a stag in that wood. I returned by the glen, according to promise. The shepherd told me you had gone home very soon after you had killed the stag, having hurt yourself. I hope it is nothing that will lay you up."

I wish I could have said so, but my knee was very stiff and sore, to say nothing of my unfortunate shin; but it would have felt worse, I dare say, had I not killed the stag. We then went and saw it weighed. It was nineteen stone and a half, and as fat as a London alderman. Sir A. congratulated me on both shots, and Campbell declared I had stalked it beautifully. What a crammer! I had as much to do with the stalking part, except retarding it, as old Drake had,

who also, most deservedly, came in for his share of praise. Indeed, hẻ faced the stag bravely, though he had never seen one in his life before.

26th.-My leg was so stiff and sore that I could scarcely hobble about the room, and I found great difficulty in dressing myself. But the feat being at last accomplished, I went down, and found Sir A.

fast.

at break

"You will excuse me, my dear fellow, for having begun before you," said he, "but I have just received a kind invitation from the marquis, asking me, as I told you I thought he would, to have two or three days with him in his forest. I am very sorry to leave you in such a plight, but I cannot resist the temptation. I wish he had included you in the invitation."

"I am very glad he has not, Alick. It would have been a great disappointment to me not to go, and I certainly could not make much of a stalk of it in my present condition. Adieu! I wish you the best of sport. I shall make myself quite at home during your absence. Mind you give me a full and true account on your return, as I shall be most anxious to hear all about your proceedings. I have my fears for the weather. I hope to be all right again in a couple of days, and we will kill a stag together yet."

SEVEN YEARS OF AN INDIAN OFFICER'S LIFE.

I.

I was sitting to rest myself after morning's parade, in the usual careless ease of a soldier, when a letter arrived announcing the bankruptcy of Bowson and Co.'s Bank, in which every farthing I possessed in the world was lost, and by which I found myself, at the age of twenty-two, with nothing but a subaltern commission and fifty pounds, which I happened to have in my desk, to face the chances of life. For myself I was not in a worse case than thousands of others, except having been brought up to the possession of an independency; but the state to which my mother and sisters were reduced at the same time filled me with desperation, since they had, by my advice, entrusted what they possessed to the same firm. I was not long in feeling my altered prospects. Men who had before sworn undying friendship, turned from me without recognition, and I had to bear all the afflictions from others which have been the lot of misfortune from the earliest times. For, although the philosophical writers of the present day boast of the alteration of the human heart for the better, a little study of former satirists and poets, and some experience of life now, will convince all that man's nature, as manifested in passions and afflictions, is the same as ever. I had not only to bear the incivility of manner of formerly professed friends, but the calumny of many. Some openly declared I had trusted my own and relatives' property in the hands of a concern which I knew to be insolvent at the time, with a secret understanding that I should, when the firm had been