THE MOORS.
THERE is one thing very mysterious about the annual "returns" from the moors. -While on Shap Fells and other Cumberland moors this baronet and t'other gentleman think they have done wonders if they notch their ten, sixteen or twenty brace on the Twelfth, the adventurers in the Highlands send in reports of 200 brace by Sir William Massey Stanley and friend, and 106 brace brought down by the unaided murderous barrel of Mr. Fox Wattle. Year after year the same discrepancy appears. Yet there are poachers in the Highlands—and, what has generally been found still more destructive of grouse, Yorkshire gamekeepers—as well as in Cumberland. Is it distance that lends enchantment to the view, and by a kind of " glamour " multiplies the ieones of the dead game ? or do the potent spirits of the Highlands work the same cantrip ? or does the apparent discrepancy arise from some yet unelucidated effect of perspective ? At the distance of Cumber- land the small can be seen as well as the great, and the game- keeper's shots are distinguished from his master's ; but at the far Highland point of view the minor partners in the massacre dis- appear, and the slaughter is attributed exclusively to the great man who remains visible.
The Ministerial returns have not yet been received ; though the Premier and some of his colleagues are reckoned crack shots. Perhaps Sir Robert has had other game to mind—he has just bagged five boroughs.
Previous page
