to rest, has described this scenery.

The late learned Dr. Macgillivray has constituted himself the natural historian of Dee-side, its scenery and its productions; and never has locality been more fortunate in its historian. Let us accompany the enthusiast in one of his rambles.

furrowed by deep ravines worn by the torrents, gradually became dimmer as they receded, until at length on the verge of the horizon they were blended with the clouds, or stood abrupt against the clear sky. A solemn stillness pervaded all nature; no living creature was to be seen; the dusky wreaths of vapour rolled majesFording the Dee above the entrance of the stream tically over the dark valleys, and clung to the craggy whish passes the village of Castleton, one day in Sep- summits of the everlasting hills. A melancholy, pleas tember, I lingered a while on a small island, to gather ing, incomprehensible feeling creeps over the soul when the berries of Rubus saxatilis. Here a fine view is the lone wanderer contemplates the vast, the solemn, obtained of the valley of the Dee, with its ancient the solitary scene over which savage grandeur and castle, its cultivated patches, its scattered habitations, sterility preside. How glorious to live in those vast its beautiful river, and its rounded hills covered with solitudes, a hunter of the red deer and the forest boar, pine and birch. Following this stream for several in the times of old, when the pine woods covered all miles up a heathy valley, a decayed forest of white those long and winding valleys, now strewn with debirch, with its blasted trunks, presents itself, than which cayed trunks, or bare as the hill-tops around. few objects present a more melancholy picture of the ruin of a primeval world; some being prostrate and crumbling into fragments, others scattered along the hills like an army of giants, suddenly scathed by the wrath of Heaven. Having now reached the head of this long dull valley, the pedestrian beholds straight before him the great mountain which must have attracted his attention the day before, and to ascend which is probably the object of the present excursion. Pausing, and seating himself to consider what promises to be the best route, he proceeds to reconnoitre the face of the huge rounded mass, dividing it into three portions:first, a plain or platform, rising gently at the farther end, and forming a pretty steep acclivity, terminating about a third up; secondly, the middle part, consisting of fragments of rock, stones, and gravel, intermixed with a little vegetation; thirdly, the remaining part, three or four hundred feet high, similar to the last, but more sterile. If one traces his proposed route in this manner, he finds it generally easy enough to ascend a hill without a guide, whereas, if he proceeds at random, he is very liable to become involved among difficulties. Hitherto the sky has been clear, but now clouds begin to gather around the summits of the distant mountains, although that before us is still unshrouded. To the west, the remains of a natural forest of pine are seen scattered along the sides of a valley; and on entering the second region, the heath and other plants are found greatly diminished in size, while various species occur that indicate an approach to what in botany is called an alpine station. Near the summit of a projecting mass of rock, in this region, a large covey of Ptarmigans sprung from among the stones, about a hundred and fifty yards beneath me.

"On reaching the top of the hill, near which I observed a solitary specimen, still in flower, of Statice Armeria, I found it to be a long, broad, rounded ridge, covered with stones, gradually sloping to the west, but on the eastern side suddenly terminated by a magnificent precipice, several hundred feet high, and at least half a mile in length. The scene that now presented itself to my view was the most splendid that I had then seen. All around rose mountains beyond mountains, whose granitic ridges, rugged and tempest-beaten,

"The summits of the loftier mountains-Cairngorm on the one hand, and Ben-na-muic-dhui, and Benvrotan, on the other, and Loch-na-gar in the south, were covered with mist; but the clouds had rolled westward from Ben-na-buird, on which I stood, leaving its summit entirely free. The beams of the setting sun burst in masses of light here and there through the openings between the clouds, which exhibited a hundred varying shades. There, over the ridges of yon brown and torrent-worn mountain, hangs a vast mass of livid vapour, gorgeously glowing with deep crimson along all its lower fringed margin. Here, the white shroud that clings to the peaked summits, assumes on its western side a delicate hue like that of the petals of the pale red rose. Far away to the north, glooms a murky cloud, in which the spirits of the storm are mustering their strength, and preparing the forked lightnings, which at midnight they will fling over the valley of the Spey.

"From a small lake, in a rocky corry; at the distance of five or six miles, a white streamlet rushes down an alpine valley bounded by precipitous rocks. To the west and northwest, the mountains recede, range beyond range, apparently undiminished in grandeur, but towards the east their ridges rapidly fall. The summits of those around are flat or rounded, composed of crumbling stones, with cairns of granitic rock protruding here and there. They are furrowed in many places by persons who, some years ago, gained a subsistence by gathering the rock-crystals and other minerals which are occasionally found among the disintegrated fragments. Many of them present vast precipices, and corries, or great cavities surrounded by rocks, in which is sometimes found a blue lake of unfathomed depth.

"Descending from the highest part of the summit, I proceeded eastward for about half a mile, when I came to a corry facing the south, down a rapid slope, about the centre of which I descended with all possible speed, the sun having by this time sunk behind Benvrotan. A little farther down I saw two does, and as I approached the stream already mentioned was somewhat alarmed by a succession of short brays or grunts, which increased in loudness and frequency, so as at length to become really frightful. It was now quite dark, so

that I could see nothing distinctly at the distance of twenty yards; and whether the sounds proceeded from a rambling stag, or a water kelpie, I have never been able to learn. Crossing the stream, and ascending a low ridge, I fell in with a kind of footpath, which I followed, until I arrived over a deep glen, which I recognized. About a mile farther, finding that I was too high, I with difficulty descended the side of the glen about a quarter of a mile, until I came upon another footpath, much more distinct than the upper, which led me to the place where I had seen the mountain-ash, poplar, and birch, by the stream. At length, after walking two hours in darkness, I gained the valley of the Dee, when the moon began to throw an obscure light over the shoulder of a hill, and I forded the river without accident, and reached the inn at halfpast nine, amply recompensed for my labours.

I obtained a view of the glen in which I had passed
the night, the corry, the opposite hills, and a blue lake
before me. The stream which I had followed I traced
to two large fountains, from each of which I took a
glassfull, which I quaffed to the health of my best
friends.
Near these wells I met with a covey of gray
ptarmigans, and a titling. Descending from this
summit, I wandered over a high moor, came upon the
brink of rocks that bounded a deep valley, in which
was a black lake, proceeded over the unknown region
of alternate bogs and crags, raised several flocks of
gray ptarmigans, and at length, by following a ravine,
entered one of the valleys of the Spey, near the mouth
of which I saw a water-ouzel. It was not until noon
that I reached a hut, in which I procured some milk.
In the evening, at Kingussie, I examined the ample
store of plants that I had collected in crossing the
Grampians, and refreshed myself with a long sleep in a
more comfortable bed than one of granite slabs with a
little grass and heather spread over them.

"It is delightful to wander far away from the haunts, and even the solitary huts of men, and ascending the steep mountain, seat one's self on the ruinous cairn that crowns its summit. There, communing with his own heart, in the wilderness, the lover of nature cannot fail to look up to nature's God. I believe it in fact impossible, in such a situation, on the height of Benna-Muic-dhui or Ben Nevis, for example, not to be sensible, not merely of the existence, but also of the presence of a Divinity. In that sacred temple, of which the everlasting hills are the pillars, and the blue vault of heaven the dome, he must be a fiend indeed who could harbour an unholy thought. But, to know himself, one must go there alone. Accompanied by his fellows, he may see all of external nature that he could see in solitude, but the hidden things of his own heart will not be brought to light."

"Two nights after this, having ascended Glen Dee in the afternoon, I found myself at sunset in a valley bounded by very lofty and rugged mountains, and terminating on the side of a vast mass towering above the rest. Before I reached the head of this magnificent but desolate valley, night fell, and I was left to grope my way in the dark, among blocks of granite, by the side of one of the sources of the Dee, ten miles at least from human habitation, and with no better cheer in my wallet than a quarter of a cake of barley and a few crumbs of cheese which a shepherd had given me. Before I resolved to halt for the night, I had unfortunately proceeded so far up the glen that I had left behind me the region of heath, so that I could not procure enough for a bed. Pulling some grass and moss, however, I spread it in a sheltered place, and, after some time, succeeded in falling into a sort of slumber. About midnight I looked up on the moon and stars that were at times covered by the masses of vapour that rolled along the summits of the mountains, which, with their tremendous precipices, completely surrounded the hol- We cannot resist one more quotation from the valualow in which I cowered, like a ptarmigan in the hill-ble work* of this amiable enthusiast, although it carries corry. Behind me, in the west, and at the head of the glen, was a lofty mass enveloped in clouds; on the right a pyramidal rock, and beside it a peak of less elevation; on the left a ridge from the great mountain, terminating below in a dark conical prominence; and straight before me, in the east, at the distance apparently of a mile, another vast mass. Finding myself cold, although the weather was mild, I got up and made me a couch of large stones, grass, and a little short heath, unloosed my pack, covered one of my extremities with a night-cap, and thrust a pair of dry stockings on the other, ate a portion of my scanty store, drank two or three glasses of water from a neighbouring rill, placed myself in an easy posture, and fell asleep. About sunrise I awoke, fresh, but feeble, ascended the glen, passed through a magnificent corry, composed of vast rocks of granite, ascended the steep with great difficulty, and at length gained the summit of the mountain, which was covered with light gray mist that rolled rapidly along the ridges. As the clouds cleared away at intervals, and the sun shone upon the scene,

us rather in advance of our subject.

"It is pleasant," says the learned professor, "to hear the bold challenge of the Gor-cock' at early dawn on the wild moor, far remote from human habitation, where, however, few ornithologists have ever listened to it. I remember with delight the cheering influence of its cry one cold morning in September, when I had just passed the night in a peat-bog, in the midst of the Grampians, between the sources of the Tummel and the Dee, strongly impressed then, as I still am, when life is nearer its close, that there is little pleasure in passing through life dry-shod and ever comfortable. At Blair Athol I had been directed to a road leading over the hills, which I was assured was much shorter than the high road. I proceeded until I reached Blair Lodge, where the good woman of the house very benevolently urged me to remain all night, the hills being, as she said, bleak and dreary, entirely destitute of everything that could afford pleasure to a traveller,

"A History of British Birds, Indigenous and Migratory. By W. Macgillivray, A. M., F.R.S.E., &c.”

To the

where stood a hut and three half-blasted firs.
tenant of the hut I was indebted for such refreshment
as his place afforded-namely, bread, milk, and a wel-
come glass of whiskey. About a mile and a-half
farther down I came upon a wood, the first that I had
seen since I left Blair.

"The silver Dee now rolled pleasantly along the wooded valley, and in the evening I reached Castleton of Braemar, where, while seated beside a blazing fire in the most comfortable of highland inns, and sipping my tea, I heard a rap at the door. 'Come in,' said I. It was my best friend, with whom I spent a happy evening, in which, I believe, little mention was made of ptarmigans or grouse."

It is not consistent with our plan to dwell further on this delightful spot, and we must leave it most unwillingly, as we have done before. Three modes of departure present themselves: we may retrace our steps to Aberdeen; we may return southward, through the mountain defile of Glen-Shee, which offers the recommendation of having a stage-coach during the summer months, through Strathmore, to Blair-Gowrie, and Perth; or, if the party consists of pedestrians, the celebrated pass of Glen-Tilt carries the tourist through the finest scenery of the Highlands-scenery unequalled in any country. Thanks to the patriotic efforts of a few Scottish savans, at the head of whom is Professor Balfour, this celebrated pass is now opened-wrested from the grasp of the ungracious Peer who would have. excluded his kind from the harmless enjoyment of its scenery,

a sort of bed, and lay down again. But even heath was not to be obtained here in sufficient quantity, so that for a covering I was obliged to bury myself in moss and turf, with the soil adhering. At long, long length, the sky began to brighten in what I supposed to be the north-east, and I was anxiously looking for the approach of morn, when gradually the pale unwelcome moon rose over a distant hill. It was piercingly cold, and I soon perceived that a strolling naturalist, however fervid his temperament, could hardly feel comfortable, even among moss, in a bog of the Grampians. However, morning actually came at last, and I started up to renew my journey. I now got a view of my lodging, which was an amphitheatre formed of bare craggy hills, covered with fragments of stone and whit moss, and separated by patches of peat-bog. Not a house, nor a sheep, nor even a tree, nor so much as a blade of green grass, was to be seen. Not a vestige of life to be found here, thought I; but I was reproved by a cry that startled me. The scarlet crest and bright eye of a moor-cock were suddenly protruded from a tuft of heather, and I heard with delight the wellknown kok, kok, of the blessed bird,' as the Highlanders call him. It was a good omen; the night and dullness had fled, and I limped along as cheerily as I could, under the affliction of a sprained ankle. My half-frozen blood soon regained its proper temperature; ere long I reached the base of the rocky ridge, and after passing some hills, traversing a long valley, and ascending a mountain of considerable height, I took out my map, and looking eastward below me, saw, to my great satisfaction, a rivulet running for several miles directly in the course marked. I was assured that this stream, whether the source or not, ran into the Dee, as it proceeded eastward; and therefore I directed my steps toward it. But here, too, a scene occured which gave me intense pleasure. Some low croaking sounds came from among the stones around me, and presently a splendid flock of gray ptarmigans, about fifty in number, rose into the air, and whirred past me, on their way to the opposite eminence. On the brow of the hill I found two large fountains, the sources of the stream below, of each of which I drank a mouthful, and proceeded on my journey. I explored another of the sources of the rivulet that rose farther up in the glen. But at length the scene became too dreary to be endured desolate mountains, on whose rugged sides lay patches of snow which the summer's suns had failed to melt; wild glens, scantily covered with coarse grass, heath, and lichens; dark brown streams, gushing among crags and blocks, unenlivened even by a clump of stunted willows. I followed the rivulet, therefore, From this spot another choice of routes presents judging that it would lead to the river of which I was in itself; the traveller is now on the great northern road, search. For seven long miles I trudged along, faint and may proceed to Inverness, through Badenoch, or enough, having obtained no refreshment for eighteen by the Black Mount to Fort William and thence by the hours, excepting two mouthfuls of cold water; so that Caledonian Canal; or he may return southward, through even the multitudes of grouse that sprung up around the celebrated pass of Killiecrankie, Dunkeld and me ceased to give much pleasure, although I had never Perth; or, by a slight detour to the right, he may take before started so many in a space of equal extent. At the road to Taymouth, by the Tummel and Glen-Lyon. one o'clock, however, I came to a place named Dubrach, Our destination being the western capital of Scotland,

There is no public road through Glen-Tilt, although it was proved before the Courts that a bridle-path and road for driving cattle, from the Argyll and Perthshire Highlands to Aberdeenshire, had existed from time immemorial. Everything had been done, during the period of exclusion, to level any trace of such having been in existence. Passing from the Braes of Mar to Blair in Atholl, is a distance of eight to ten miles; when the half of this distance has been traversed, the scenery becomes wild and magnificent-meet haunts for the eagle, which is still occasionally found in these fastnesses. On the left hand Ben-i-gloe rears its steep grassy sides, towering over the neighbouring mountains; on the right rise the shingly and precipitous sides of Craig Callioch, while the river flowing between is gradually lost to our view. Passing this point the scenery changes,-thick, screening plantations now present themselves. The travellers are now passing the demesne of Atholl Castle, and a walk of three miles brings them to the pleasant village of Blair in Atholl.

which a few days may be profitably spent. At Tay-up in two points, and inaccessible on every side, except