THE WILDS OF SUTHEKLAND. 241 



state of cleanliness, order, and comfort as on my 

 last visit, nine years since; and my old acquaint- 



4 



ance, Harry Munro, the landlord, as civil and 

 obliging as ever. 



A course of fine weather had dried up the 

 streams, but as there was some dead water at the 

 foot of the feeding-burn of Loch ISTaver, my son 

 borrowed Harry's nondescript rod to try for any 

 stray loch -trout that might be feeding in this 

 estuary. 



The chief object of our northern tour being to 

 collect varieties for the museum, we had not, in 

 the face of so long a drought, added the encum- 

 brance of fishing-rods, but a fly-book always 

 forms part of our travelling gear, let the weather 

 be wet or dry. In defiance of the remonstrances 

 of Harry's farm man, who insisted they were 

 " ower sma'," the fisher selected three flies to suit 

 his own fancy, and by half -past nine landed 

 twenty loch-trout amply sufficient for a supper 

 that night, for a remove before the excellent roast 

 beef of our next day (Sunday) dinner, and for an 

 adjunct to Monday's breakfast before leaving for 

 Durness. When our trap was packing, Harry 



