70 REMINISCENCES OF THE LEWS. 



dog at his stalker's heel, as many of your 

 fanaticos are. 



Ah, me ! the day — I remember it well — when 

 we started early from Soval, and stalked away 

 right past the Barvas Hills, on to near the Glen 

 House on the Barvas Eoad, and round by 

 Rosheval and the mouth of Glen Bhragair to 

 my bothy at Diensten, killing a fine royal, 

 whose head I am looking at now ; and then, 

 because we had left another stag somewhere 

 near the glen's mouth, stalked the same ground 

 the next day back again home, blank — a fine 

 walk indeed, and we shall never do the like 

 again. The home is gone, and more — all that 

 made it then what it was ! And poor Boh, as 

 we called R. M., and I are now two old cripples, 

 that can only live on the memory of those by- 

 gone happy days. But enough of this sad 

 theme. 



R. M. was a very good fisherman, and threw 

 as long, as straight, and as light a line as any- 

 one; but then he was always admiring his 

 throwing, and casting too much line — the 

 greatest mistake a man can ever make — more 

 than he or anybody could ever command. There 

 were few streams he could not cover. He had 

 also a very pretty notion of dressing a good fly 

 — a great qualification in a fisherman ; not that 



