A N INTER CEP TED LE TTER. 1 73 



will be as to-day, only more so ! Take my advice and 

 never be induced to marry a man who is fond of fishing ; 

 for if you do, you will wish you had never been born. 



I suppose our four gentlemen possess an average 

 amount of brain, but my faith is sorely shaken when I 

 witness their idiotic and unholy ecstasies over a wretched 

 bundle of scales that they have drawn from its native 

 element by means of a stick and a string ; and I believe 

 that if " every one of their innocent heads were trepanned 

 you would find no more than so much coiled fishing line 

 below their skulls." Before my marriage I knew of C.'s 

 wretched failing, but I thought he would indulge 

 moderately in his intemperate habit. My dear ! he 

 fished during our honeymoon, and a man who can do 

 that is hopeless. It is indeed a lamentable and grievous 

 thing to discover that the beloved object of one's devoted 

 affections is incurably mad upon one subject. To give 

 but one instance of the deeper depths to which a man can 

 fall. On our way we travelled through the Pass of 

 Killiecrankie, and the train stopped for some reason or 

 other at the most beautiful part, and we had a grand view 

 of the Pass below. I thought of Claverhouse, and a 

 certain memorable occasion where he figured conspicu- 

 ously, and looked at C. for sympathy. The glow of 

 enthusiasm mantled in his cheek, and the fire flashed 

 in his eyes as he glanced down at the scene and watched 

 the river rolling swiftly below. He opened his lips and 

 said, with all the force and fervour of a feeling heart, "By 

 Jove ! isn't that a glorious pool for a salmon !" 



Shall I describe to you the adventures of to-day ? The 



