without also cultivating a taste for the other. And yet how many books on sport have been published by writers who have had no pretensions to the name of naturalist. Where attention is confined to a particular branch of sport, as Tiger-shooting, Fox-hunting, Salmon-fishing, and the like, this is perhaps of little moment, although it must be apparent that a knowledge of an animal's haunts and habits, time and manner of feeding, and the nature of its food, gained by a study of its natural history, must be of considerable advantage to the sportsman who intends to be successful. But with writers who treat of the general subject, or recount the result of their travels or excursions in little-kuown countries, the case is different. Either from necessity and for food, or from choice and for amusement, they come in contact with such a variety of game, both four-footed and winged, that to avoid confusion and misunderstanding, some precision in identifying and describing the different species is absolutely necessary. It is needless to say that this precision is only to be gained by a study of Natural History, and the want of it has considerably depreciated the value of many a well-written and otherwise entertaining book on sport and adventure.
Books of the kind before us, therefore, may be divided into two classes: those penned by sportsmen who have some acquaintance with Natural History; and those written by lovers of rod and gun, who have no knowledge beyond that which is requisite to fill their creel or game-bag.
Mr. Colquhoun's work is of the former class, and on this account has the more merit. Residing in a wild and extremely picturesque part of Scotland, in the midst of game of all kinds, with ample leisure for observation, and for sport in almost all its branches, Mr. Colquhoun has enjoyed opportunities which fall to the lot of few. A more favourable observatory for a naturalist than his home on the banks of Loch Awe, as he himself remarks, could perhaps scarcely be found. The crow of the Moorcock is heard from the window; the bell of the Roebuck, in the adjacent hanging wood, sounds close to the door; a good eye and glass may command the correis of Ben Cruachan; infinite varieties of wild fowl crowd the loch, in winter, many of them rare arctic visitors; the salmon streams of the Awe and Orchy are within easy distance, and the mighty Salmo ferox roams the shore for miles.
Thus favourably situated, it is not surprising that Mr. Colquhoun,
