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A notched flint,
Well secured by a nail ;
A trigger to strike it fast
Against the hammer ;
An unerring octolateral rifle,
A stock of unblemished wood,
That would wound the slender stag
And disable him.
It is a man who made it his trade,
Particularly,
That would kill in spite of them,
By his artful dexterity.
Such could have been found on a time,
Patrick in the glen,
Attendants and lanky hounds,
He giving them directions.
Bullets flying,
Fire giving them speed,
The hind of the lofty mountains
Would be wounded by them.
Patrick had a seat in Coire-chruiteir, where he sat, directing the
chase ; and the opposite hill was set apart for hard-pressed deer,
the gaining of which, by a mettlesome stag, was the immediate
signal for the discontinuance of the chase.
His seat was held in great veneration long after, and used to be
visited by ardent young sportsmen, that they might have the honour
to sit on Big Patrick's seat. — [See Precognitions.]
John Hay Allan, Esq., commemorates the said practice of Big
Patrick in his "Last Deer of Ben Doran," in the following strain, —
Page 65:—
The Campbell was a generous foe,
And though fuU oft his dread hallo
Waked the pursuit and cheered the chase,
Much loved he aye the dun deer's race,
And but waged war for glory's sake
On the dark dwellers of the brake.

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