Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-08-30
In ROB ROY'S LAND.
Shooting Grouse in the Highlands
the Very Best of Sport.
EXCITEMENT OF DOGS AND GUN
Scenes on Tramp Over Moors Among Ira.
ditional Bluebells.
PUSHING CROFTERs FROM THE LAND
CORRESPONDENCE OF THE DISPATCH. !

ICOhhEhfONDENCE OF THE O1SPATCH.1
ISLAND OF NULL, August 22.-It is an
old saying of the Clan Campbell that ''it is
far cry to Loeb Ave-" but whatever it may
have been in the days of Rob Roy and his
arch enemy, the Macallum More, from Lon
don to Loch Awe or the uttermost points Of
the Scottish Islands is now little more than
a between breakfast and dinner journey" !"
There is no country in the world-not even
excepting Amer1ca-that the railway has
done so much as it has for Scotland in the
way OF opening up parts hitherto almost in
accessible to the tourist. Nowadays you
can dine in London and be whirled in a
Pullman right into the middle of Rob Roy's
country, and breakfast next morning under
the shadow of Ben Cruachan.
And what country it is: Where else
have you such picturesque ruins. such
sketches of wild moor and lonely lochs
lying undes the shadows of the great hills.
The whole country is redolent OF poetry and
romance, and there is hardly promontory
jutting out into the sea as you sail through
the Western Highlands, that is not crowned
with the ruins of some old Highland chief
tain, "whose good sword is rust, and whose
soul Is with the saints we trust"
a> HOME ON THE MooRs.
At this particular season OF the year Scot
land-at any rate the Highlands of Scot
land-is given over to the Sassenach sports
men, who swarm over the border in greater
numbers than their forefathers ever did in
the days when they came to have q shot at
the natives and not at their game. Every
acre of moorland that can breed grouse, or
bit of woodland that can shelter red deer,
is let to the wealthy stock jobber or mer-
chant prince; and many a Scottish land
owner would long ere this have been through
the Bankruptcy Court if it had not been for
the revenue derived from the moors.
Not only is the shooting season boon to
the landlords, but the money OF the Sassen-
ach goes long way to provide q winters
keep for horde Of ghillies, gamekeepers,
watchers and beaters, who otherwise would
be left to exc out scanty subsistence from
their ''crofts" How in the name of all that
is agricultural these same crofts are made
to bear anything at all is mystery to ma
All the manuring they ever get is a top
dressing of seawood, and the soil is of the
very poorest description. Yet the people
stick to them like limpets to the rocks, and
it requires all the persuasive powers of rela-
tives who have done we'll, and who are now
passing rich, to induce them to JOIN them in
the States or Canada.
NOT A HARDSHIP.
You hear great deal in America about
the hardship of driving these crofters off for
the purpose of turning their crofts into deer
forests. To the uninitiated deer "forest"
means forest OF trees; but deer "forest'
In Scotland is merely vast track of land
where the heritage is SO poor that it will
hardly support sheep, far less a human
being. If it were not tor the money they
make in the shooting season many of the
crofters would starve. 1t is really no hard
ship at all to make them 60; and have
heard an evicted crofter in Canada who
cursed his luck when he was forced to leave
his native land, thank his stars that it had
happened.
Grouse shooting in my humble opinion is
the finest sport in the world. have shot
tigers in India, elephants in Ceylon, and |
prairie chickens, and the pin-tailed grouse
in our own beloved land, SO know whereof
1 speak when say that grouse shooting on
the Scottish moors beats them all. Rough
ing it in shooting is all very well when you
are young and sport" of every kind is sur
rounded with sort Of glamour. But the
day comes when the gilt is soon off the GIN
gerbread and your bones are not as supple
as they used to be. In these days the meat
toasted on the point of a knife does not
taste nearly as sweet as it used to do and,
with Ballie Nicol Jarvie, 1 believe in
taking with you ''all the comforts of the
market"
MORNING ON THE ISLAND.
I have just returned from a splendid
days shooting. Early this morning I was
by gentle breeze heavily laden |
with the perfume of the heather, and that !
aroma of the 'saut sea faeme"
blowing in on me through the opened |
jalousies of my bedroom window. Below 1 |
could hear the soft yelping of the dogs and |
the cultural EXPLANATIONS of the ghillies to |
each other in Gaelic, both dogs and men evil |
IDENTIFY congratulating themselves that the |
day of all days to them, the 18th of August,
promised to be fine.
What glorious panorama met nv ewes
as looked out Below me stretched the |
Sound of Null like silver streak, clotted |
here and there with the brown sails of the |
fishing boats slowly drifting with the tide. |
The air was SO still that could almost hear |
the thud of the oars in the rowlocks as they |
tried to help the sails. On the opposite side |
Of the sound could see the lgrim ruins Of |
Ardtornich Castle. Just before me, too, 1 |
could see the jagged top of the ''Lady's |
Rock" on which the Laird of Quart placed |
his wife in the hope that the tide would |
sweep her out of the reach of the Divorce |
Court. Luckily for her she was rescued by |
the galleys of her brother, the Lord of the |
Isles.
DOGS ON THE POINT.
We had good five miles tramp before
We began shooting, and it was no easy Job |
either. Wading through heather up to |
your knees, every now and again making a |
half plunge into bog that looked solid |
enough until you put your foot on it, is
luite enough to try the staying powers iof |
my man. At last we were on the moor
where operations were to commence, and the |
party spread themselves out in half circle.
The pointers are hard at work-and rare
,ood dogs they are, too-very soon Juno
tiffens herself out, her leg going up like a
mark of Interrogation, and her expressive
all stands out as stiff as poker. Then we
ldvance little, and presently there is a
III ght disturbance in the heather, 'swh-i-r-r.
vhir-r, cack, cack, cack, !" and up sprung
he first grouse OF the season. "Bape.
,ang-" and down comes the first brace.
Good shot, old man, better than quill driy-
ng, that"
Of course-can anything be done in En-
and or Scotland without drink? First
Hood has to be celebrated with drink of
IS fine Glenlivet as ever gurgled down a
mans throat, and then we 60 on until the
un setting behind Ben More warns us that
is time to count the days sport, and make
ur way back to the lodge, there to shoot
ur birds over again over steaming tumblers