Again, to pass from stalking, what is the real explanation of the intense enjoyment of ptarmigan shooting on the high tops after the close of the stalking season? I have more than once heard this described as the most enjoyable of all kinds of shooting. As is well known, on a still clear day the ptarmigan is the easiest of birds to shoot, but on a wild windy day one of the most difficult--twisting and turning with extraordinary rapidity. Neither this latter fact, however, nor the exhilarating and bracing air at the altitude where these birds are to be found wholly explains the enthusiasm of those who have had this sport. I have no doubt that the environment of the high hills and all that this means are largely the cause of this enthusiasm. The delights of grouse shooting, whether in the case of driven birds, or over dogs, are greatly increased by the same cause. Without entering upon the well-worn controversy as to the respective advantages and disadvantages of these two forms of sport, is there any one who has enjoyed both of them amid the hills who has not ineffaceable memories of the vistas of marvellous beauty which he has revelled in again and again while waiting in his butt for the first birds of the drive, and--to change the scene--of the pleasures of many a glorious twelfth in the company of an old friend with whom he was in perfect sympathy, watching the dogs at work amidst the purple heather on the side of the hill or along the heather-clad banks of a burn? It is true also of salmon and trout fishing in the Highlands that the angler’s sense of peace and contentment is largely due to the influence of the hills. This is especially so in the golden days at the beginning of August, those glorious days before the serious fun begins, when the trout in the loch are more of an excuse than a serious ploy, when one discusses the growing antlers of the big hart on the Home beat, when one basks in the sunshine of the High Hills. [Illustration: GOLDEN DAYS. By V. R. BALFOUR-BROWNE.] Whilst writing what I have already said about stalking I recollected the following verses, which I intend to keep and read for my encouragement in days to come--days which are, I hope, still very far off: NORTHWARD BOUND (ONCE MORE) Does your heart still beat with the old excitement As you wait where the Scotch expresses are? Does it answer still to the old indictment Of a fond delight in the sleeping-car, As it did when the rush through the autumn night meant The Gate of Desire ajar? Or has the enchanting task grown tougher, And has that arrow beyond you flown? For the hill that was rough enough is rougher, The steepest climb that was ever known, And the forest appals a veteran duffer Sorely beaten and blown?