It was a long business, and Dr. MACTAVISH, who was brought from a
hamlet about thirty miles away, nearly gave me up. My arm was about
three feet in circumference, and I was very ill indeed. I have not
tried Deer-stalking again; and, as I said, I wish the British Tourist
joy of his Access to Mountains.

* * * * *

EARLY SPRING.

[Illustration]

Once more the North-east wind
Chills all anew,
And tips the redden'd nose
With colder blue;
Makes blackbirds hoarse as crows,
And poets too.

The town with nipping blasts
How wildly blown;
Around my hapless head
Loose tiles are thrown,
Slates, chimney-pots, and lead
Of weight unknown.

_My_ tile and chimney-pot
Flies through the air.
My eyes are full of dust,