NATHANIEL LA WHENCE AUSTEN. xxvii 



But, alas ! how sad is it now to recall the prepara- 

 tions he made for these expeditions to Norway, his 

 pleasure in speaking of what he had there seen 

 and done, his hopes of being able to go back again 

 some day, and then to awaken to the sad reality 

 that he is gone from us, gone never to return. I 

 might write much of his love for sport, I might 

 tell how I have seen him with nervous and anxious 

 care stalk some seal or heron ; but although it is 

 needless to detail such incidents in order to con- 

 vince any one who knew my poor friend and this 

 introduction is only addressed to such that he was 

 an enthusiastic sportsman, still, I cannot refrain 

 from describing one evening's shooting we enjoyed 

 together ; an evening which I know made a lasting 

 impression on him as on myself. 



" We had been out all day fruitlessly trying to 

 get near some wild ducks, and as we returned 

 I suggested that we should go to the ruins of 

 Tantallon Castle, and try the wild rock pigeons by 

 moonlight, so accordingly we did. The night was 

 calm, and the moon, having waded through the few 

 frosty clouds which hung on the horizon, cast a 

 flood of light, making night almost as bright as 

 day. We took up our position in the shadow cast 

 by the great central tower, and far beneath us 

 stretched the restless sea, weaving its silvery web 

 in the moonbearis. There was no wind, scarce a 



