Glasgow Courier. — 1855-09-22 (Glasgow, Strathclyde, Scotland)

SPORT AT DALNACARDOCII.  North.—Let us have some sensible conversation. Timothy. At our time of life such colloquy is becoming, Tickler—Why the devil would you 1:ot come to Dalnacardoch ? Glorious guffawing all night, and immeasurable murder all day. Twenty-seven brace of birds, nine hares, three roes, and a red deer stained the heather on the 12th, beneath my single-barrelled Joe— not to mention a pair of patriarchal ravens, and the Loch-Ericht eagle, whose leg was broken by the Prince when hiding in the moor of Rannoch.  North.— Why kill the Royal bird? Tickler.—ln self-defence. It bore down upon Sancho like a sunbeam from its eyrie on the cult of snows, and it would have broken its back with one stroke of its wing had I not sent a ball right through its heart. It went up, with a yell, a hundred fathom into the el:or blue air, and then, striking a green knoll in the midst of the heather, bounded down the rocky hill-side, and went shivering and whizzing along the black surface of a tarn, till it lay motionless in a huge heap among the waterlilies. North.—Lost?  Tichler.—l stripped instanter—sin feet four and three quarters in puris naturalibus—and out-Byron ing Byron, shot, in 20 seconds, a furlong across the Fresh. Grasping the bird of Jove in my right, with my left I rowed my airy state towards the spot where I had left my breeches and other habiliments. Espying a trimmer, I seized it in my mouth, and on relanding at a small natural pier, as I hope to be shaved, lo! a pike of twenty pound standing, with a jaw like an alligator, and reaching from my hip to my instep, smote the heather, like a flail, into a shower of blossoms. North—Wan there a cloud of witnesses?  Tickler.—To be sure there was. A hundred stills beheld me from the mountain sides. Shepherd and smuggler cheered me like voices in the sky; and the old genius of the solitary place rustled applause through the reeds and rushes, and birch trees among the rocks —paced up and down the shore in triumph. North.—What a subject for the painter! Oh, that Sir Thomas Lawrence, or our own John Watson, had been there to put you on canvas! Or, shall I rather say, would that Chantrey had been by to study you for immortal marble!  ..... . Tickler—Braced by the liquid plunge, I circled the tarn at ten miles an hour. Unconsciously I had taken my Manton into my hand—and unconsciously reloaded— when, just as I was clearing the feeder-stream, not less than five yards across, up springs a red-deer, who, at the death of the eagle, had eowered down in the brake, and wafted away his antlers in the direction of Benvoirhitch. We were both going at the top of our speed when I fired, and the ball piercing his spine the magnificent creature sank down, and died almost without a convulsion,  North.—Red deer, eagle, and pike, all dead as mutton! Tickler.-1 sat down upon the forehead, resting an arm on each antler—Sancho sitting with victorious eyes on the carcass. I sent him off to the turnside for my pocket pistol, Charged with Glenlivet, No. 5. In a few minutes he returned, and crouched down with an air of mortification at my feet. North—Ho! ho! the fairies have spirited away your nether integuments! Tickler—Not an article to be seen! save and except my shoes! Jacket, waistcoat, flannel shirt, breeches, all melted away with the mountain dew. There uas I like Adam in Paradise, or 'Lady of the Mere, §ole-sittleg by this abores.of old romance.' Norhi—Did not the dragon-flies attack you, the winged ants, and the wasp of the desert? Tickles--A figure moved along the horizon—a female figure—s light and shadow of Celtic life; and, as I am a Christian, I beheld my buckskin breeches dangling over her shoulders. I neared upon the ehace, bat saw that Malvin& was making for a morass. Whiz went a ball within a stride of her petticoats, and she deflected her course towards a wood on the right. She dropped our breeches. 1 literally leaped into them; and, like Apollo in pursuit of Daphne, pursued my impetuous career. North.—To Diana! to Diana ascends the virgin's prayer. Tickler—Down went, one after the other, jacket, waistcoat, flannel shirt—would you believe it? her own blue linsey-woolsey petticoat. Thus lightened, she bounded over the little knolls like a barque over Sicilian seas. In ten minutes she had fairly ran away from use, hull down; and her long yellow hair, streaming like a pendant, disappeared in the forest. —Wilson's Nocter Atnbrosiance,vol.l.