dougal, and overthrow his power; and with this view he marched into Argyleshire, determined to lay waste the country, and take possession of Lorn. His adversaries, however, were not unprepared to meet him, and to dispute his progress. On advancing, he found John of Lorn and his followers posted in the formidable Pass of Awe, which it seemed impossible to force, and almost hopeless to turn. But the military eye of the king soon discovered that the natural difficulties which this position presented might be overcome by a combined attack; and accordingly having sent a party to ascend the mountain, gain the heights, and threaten the enemy's rear, he immediately attacked them in front with the utmost fury. For a time the Macdougals sustained the onset bravely; but at length perceiving themselves in danger of being assailed in the rear, as well as in the front, and thus completely isolated in the defile, they betook themselves to flight; and the difficulties of the Pass, which had been of advantage to them in the first instance, now that they were broken and thrown into disorder proved the cause of their ruin. Unable to escape from the mountain gorge, they were slaughtered without mercy, and by this reverse their power was completely broken. Bruce then laid waste the surrounding country, besieged and took the Caste of Dunstaffnage, and received the submission of Alister of Lorn, the father of John, who now fled to England. Alister was allowed to retain the district of Lorn, but the rest of his possessions were forfeited, and given to Angus of Islay, who had all along remained faithful to the king's interests. The Bridge of Awe is also the scene of Sir Walter Scott's beautiful tale of the Highland Widow and her son, which must be in the recollection of all our readers. His description of this wild spot is, like, all his other descriptions, not more graphic than correct.

"Near the head of Loch Awe," under the impending gloom of the majestic Ben Cruachan, which rises in rocky masses abruptly on the opposite shore of the lake, stands "Kilchurn Castle, a noble relic of feudal ages." Amid the grandeur and variety which that fine lake derives from its great expanse, and the lofty mountains with which it is surrounded, Kilchurn Castle forms a leading and picturesque object.

"It is paramount, and rules

Over the pomp and beauty of a scene

Where mountains, torrents, lakes, and woods unite
To pay it homage."

No other castle in the Western Highlands can compete with it in point of magnitude, and none, even throughout Scotland at large, can be compared with it for the picturesque arrangement of its buildings, the beauty and fine effect of its varied and broken outline, or its happy appropriateness to its situation. Its site is a rocky elevation at the mouth of the water of Orchy, alternately a peninsula and an island, as the lake and river are low or in flood, and evidently altogether an island when the castle was built. The oldest part of the castle is said to have been erected by the lady of Sir Colin Campbell, of Glenorchy, the ancestor of the noble family of Breadalbane. Sir Colin, who was a Knight Templar, was absent on a crusade at the time; and for seven years the principal portion of the rents of his lands is said to have been expended in its erection by his lady. The great tower was five storeys

in height, the second storey being entirely occupied by the baronial hall. That necessary appendage of a feudal castle, the dungeon, is on the ground-floor, and appears to have been sufficiently dark, damp, and wretched to render utterly miserable the unfortunate beings who from time to time were forced to tenant it. The remaining portions of the castle, which form a square enclosing the court-yard, though of considerable antiquity, are certainly not so ancient as the tower, and doubtless were added at some more recent period. The second Sir Colin of Glenorchy, surnamed Dubh, or Black Son of the Knight Templar, was proprietor of seven different castles-a sufficient evidence of the great wealth which must have been possessed, even at that early period, by the ancestors of the now-powerful family of Breadalbane. So late as 1745 Kilchurn Castle was garrisoned by the king's troops, and at a much more recent period it was fit to be inhabited. One of the factors of the Breadalbane estates caused the roof to be taken off, merely to obtain an easy supply of wood, to the irreparable injury of the castle, and the unavailing regret of its noble proprietor, who was then absent. The greatest care is now taken of its preservation; but, open and exposed as it now is, time and the winter storms will soon work its decay. Wordsworth has addressed some fine lines to Kilchurn Castle, concluding thus:

"Shade of departed power,

Skeleton of unfleshed humanity,

The chronicle were welcome that should call

Into the compass of distinct regard

The toils and struggles of thy infancy!

Yon foaming flood seems motionless as ice;

Its dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,

Frozen by distance; so, majestic pile,
To the perception of this age appear

Thy fierce beginnings, softened and subdued,
And quieted in character-the strifes,

The pride, the fury uncontrollable

Lost on the aërial heights of the Crusades!"

A RUN AT BUFFALO.

BY THE RANGER.

One of the noblest victims sacrificed to the necessities of the red man and to the love of sport in the white hunter is the buffalo, or, more properly speaking, the bison. The size, the strength, the shaggy ferocity of his appearance, and the boundless extent of the plains over which he roams, combine to invest him with a peculiar interest.

Although probably the Eastern States, from their being so heavily wooded, were never the favourite range of the bison, yet formerly no part of the North American continent was occasionally unvisited by them; for not more than three or four are mentioned as having been killed by the earliest white emigrants to America. Even Daniel Boone, the first pioneer settler, almost-discoverer, of Kentucky-a man who had been brought up from a child as a hunter, was per

fectly astonished at their numbers, when he had crossed the Mississippi.

It is most likely that the boundless prairies had always been their ranging grounds, and that those occasionally seen west of the Oldbig-strong had crossed it accidentally. The Mississippi is poetically named the Father of Waters; but this is a very free translation of the Choctaw language, "missah" and "sippah" being two adjectives constantly employed by those Indians. "Missah" means "old big," and "sippah" "strong." Compounded, Missah-sippah, or Old-bigstrong, is eminently appropriate as a name for this mighty river, which drains half a continent.

Since the introduction of the horse into America by the Spaniards, the Indians have been able to pursue with greater ease, and with ten times greater destruction than before, the buffalo. The AngloSaxon, more greedy and destructive than the savages themselves, possessed of as high courage, and the more destructive instruments which white artisans have invented, has of late years killed his tens of thousands, where the Indian has killed his thousands. More than ninety thousand buffalo-hides are annually procured by one company alone. How long it will be before the buffalo is as extinct as the dodo, it is of course impossible to say, though it will probably occur before Lord Macaulay's New Zealander takes his seat on the ruins of London-bridge.

The European, when he stands for the first time upon the edge of one of the great prairies, is lost in astonishment at its extent, although his view is confined by the horizon, and he would have to travel for days upon it before he would (to use an Americanism) "realize" its immensity.

Over these boundless plains roam the buffalo, in numbers commensurate with the extent, not unfrequently covering the landscape until their diminishing forms mingle in the opposite horizon, those on the extreme verge looking in the distance like dogs. Such is the arena of sport and such in quantity is the game.

Many a man of fortune from this country has sought the mighty game upon those bright, flower-carpeted plains, where he could see Nature in all her glory, and for a time has forgotten the scenes of artificial life in the Old World. The wiry American hunter, who pursues the game for a livelihood, as well as from love of adventure, frolics over these "grassy seas" like a schoolboy enjoying a holiday, The Indian, ever restless, like his fathers, scours the mountain and the plain, to secure the meat to feed his squaw and papooses, and to get the skins for his "lodge" and for clothes. But here men, of whatever condition, meet as equals; and their prowess is displayed at the expense of the buffalo.

The buffalo, at first sight, presents a singular appearance, a mixture of the ferocious and comical, the smooth hind-quarters contrasting strangely with the mane which wraps his head, neck, and shoulders. Their motions, too, are not less singular than their appearance. Tail on-end, they rush off, shaking their shaggy heads, plunging on with an up-and-down, rolling motion; but, awkward as it appears, they get over the ground at a speed which will keep a fast horse on the strain to live alongside of them.

The spectator concealed in some ravine, or behind some prairie "swell," who can watch a band of buffalo, when they suppose themselves to be in full security, would suppose them to be, from their frolics, a jolly set of dare-devils, full of fun and devilment. Now they will plough up the turf with their horns, or, scraping it with their hoofs, send up the dust high in the air: again, two will, in rough play, rush upon each other's horns, with the force of rival engines on the "Eastern Counties," each being hurled back upon his haunches by the fierce concussion of their heads. A nearer view, however, reveals to the spectator their vast power; and he can readily picture to himself how terrible an antagonist one of these huge animals would be, when cornered or wounded.

"Running" buffalo is the usual method of killing them, both by the white man and the red; and a trained buffalo-horse is necessary for this sport. A horse accustomed to it will fearlessly range up alongside the animal; and the instant his rider delivers his shot, or presses with his leg its side, the horse will turn at right-angles in an instant, to avoid the charge of the beast if wounded, or clear it should the animal topple over dead in his path.

It is a good many years since I made one of a large party, who started to hunt buffalo near the Waco Village, high up towards the head waters of the Brazos. For years this had been a favourite hunting-ground of the Comanchee Indians; but they had been compelled to give place to the adventurous settlers of Texas, and were now obliged to pursue their favourite game further to the north

west.

A more lovely country than those wide savannahs, which were here and there dotted by clumps of live-oak trees or magnolias, and amongst which the visitor from the Old World instinctively looked every moment to see some castle or mansion appear in this beautiful, park-like region, could not have been imagined. Here in these sylvan wilds, where, in riding through the rich herbage, the horsehoofs crushed myriads of perfumed flowers, the Comanchee warriors had had a foretaste of those "happy hunting grounds" they believed would be theirs after death; for their wildest dreams could hardly realize a more beautiful country, or a greater profusion of game; and here, if anywhere, might have been some grounds for giving to savage life those illusive charms with which we are apt to clothe it, when viewed at a distance.

For five or six days my party had been in the saddle, riding slowly but steadily, to reach the buffalo-grounds; and latterly each eye had been strained, as we mounted each prairie-roll, to try and discover the hoped-for game. "Chips" had been plentiful for several days past; but they were old and dry, and had been evidently dropped a month or two previously. This was satisfactory so far, that it proved buffalo had been there; and as we could detect no "Indian sign," we concluded that, with their natural restlessness, they had merely changed their range, and so we hourly hoped to sight them, for here the country was "rolling," or hilly.

One evening, about an hour before sun-down, just when we were beginning to think of camping for the night, we came in sight of the first band. A small creek ran through the valley, between two

prairie-ridges; and on the banks of this little brook, under the shade of some dwarf willows, were a number of buffalo. Some were feeding; others were down ruminating, like our own domestic cattle; whilst a few were standing knee-deep in the stream, slaking their thirst.

It was agreed, nem. con., that it was too late for a run that night, even if our horses had been fresher than they were; so we agreed to fall back to a little spring we had passed a short time previously, where we could obtain plenty of water for ourselves and our animals. Our horses were soon watered and staked out to graze; and then, gathering a quantity of "chips," the "bois de vache" of the great plains, we soon had a fire, and our coffee-kettle boiling, whilst we toasted our venison-steaks for our suppers.

There were no laggards the morning following; each was too eager to get some of the great game we had ridden so far to find. First, we" cachéd" our cooking utensils and other articles, as we intended to return to the spring, and make that our head-quarters, and now we wished to lighten our horses of everything superfluous; and when all were ready, we rode forth.

As the distance from ridge to ridge, in this "rolling" part of Texas, was trifling, seldom exceeding a mile, we had no occasion to manœuvre to get the wind right, as we should have been obliged to do in the flat country. Three-quarters of an hour's ride brought us to the ridge from which we had seen the great game over-night; but they were no longer in sight. Turning up the valley, as the fresh "sign" led in that direction, and keeping a sharp look-out, we at last saw the buffalo again, in a " dip," or prairie-basin.

Dismounting, each man looked to his girth, took up his stirrupleathers a couple of holes, untied his buckskin curb, fastened his sombrero to the saddle, so that its broad brim should not flap about in his eyes, and, in its place,

"A shawl of red, wreathed lightly
Round his temples, wore,"

or else a handkerchief, to screen his head from the sun; for, in the South, the power of that luminary is felt almost as soon as it rises over the horizon, and although less liable to attacks of sun-stroke than men who live in more northern lands, as our blood is thinner, it is as well to protect the head from its hot rays as much as possille.

As soon as all were ready, we charged down the slope, right at the herd, each man endeavouring to ride out his particular beast. With their tails raised high in the air, the buffalo ran close together, their horns rattling loudly; while the horses trained to the sport endeavoured equally with their riders to separate some especial object of pursuit. This once accomplished, to range alongside of the great quarry was an easy matter; and in this situation we soon severally found ourselves, and then began to be heard the sharp cracks, as pistols or rifles were brought to bear and discharged.

Ranging alongside a monster-bull, both of us going at an awful pace, I threw my gun over the fore-arm of my bridle-arm, and pressed the trigger. The moment the report was heard, my horse