122 Sporting Sketches in Pen and Pencil. 



and many a man backed Soper's pick for a trifle at times with advantage. 

 Old Donald, of course, went with his master and Soper. His son Archy 

 " tutoyd'd " us, and a smart fellow was Archy. 



" Mr. Harchy," said Bostock, as we were starting, " remember the 

 selzer his hin the right 'amper, the whiskey and claret hin the left; and, 

 wotever you do, don't put none of them nasty grouse birds anigh the 

 sangwiges." 



Archy grinned an equivocal grin at Bostock, as who should say. What 

 sort of new animal is this ? Is it game, or is it economic, or is it vermin ? 

 Evidently the species was new to Archy. 



Bostock was to walk behind us until we came to a place called the 

 "Glitter Stanes," when he was to mount the pony and make over the 

 brae across the moor, get lunch ready under the tree clump, and await our 

 coming. 



Bostock was great fun. He was a thorough Cockney, and believed 

 tremendously in metropolitan capacity in every line. He had never been 

 in the Highlands before, and the hills staggered him at first ; but in a very 

 short time he recovered himself, and I heard him admitting to Donald — 

 whom he persisted in calling "Mister," much to his disgust — that "the 'ills 

 was suttingly bigger-like than 'Ighgate and 'Ampstead, but there warn't no 

 willars, and no 'igh road, no homnibusses, no no think ! It was a 'owling 

 wilderness ! " 



I thought Donald would have stabbed him, he glowered so ; but he 

 consoled himself with a strong reflection on " southern ignorance," at 

 which I thought Bostock would almost have punched Donald's head, he 

 got so red ; but I called him away just in time, and took occasion to 

 explain to him the danger of strong comparisons, and a word or two apart 

 to Donald soothed his rufiled crest. 



Out through the thick belt of fir trees which sheltered the lodge on to 

 an expanse of short heather, over a turf fence or two, till we reach a road 

 which sweeps off to the left of the Hill of Darroch. It was a lovely 

 morning, and many an old cock grouse was strutting crowing on the knolls 

 who never crowed again. On leaving the road we parted, Donald leading 

 his forces to the right, and Archy drawing us off to the left. "We had with 



