EEMINISCENCES OF THE LEWS. 159 



such misery, you may venture on a glass of 

 stiff toddy (as a rule I never take it but cold 

 and without, Eamsay's best old Islay), and you 

 light your pipe. Then you take courage, and 

 you venture to call Sandie in. After a very 

 strong caulker his heart melts and he begins 

 to think it possible that there is truth in your 

 assertion that your fingers did not feel the 

 trigger, and also just possible the big stag 

 has not left Glen Braggar. Another caulker, 

 and he is to call me very early, and we are to 

 be at the glen's mouth as near daylight as 

 possible. 



On such an occasion, off we were in the dark 

 — though, if truth were spoken, my valour was 

 fast oozing out at my finger's ends as I rose, 

 and felt all no how, like a washerwoman's 

 thumb on Wednesday morning. I think I 

 wished there were no such things as stags in 

 the world. But your bath is a wonderful 

 renovator, and collared herring is grand break- 

 fasting. We got off in time, and reached the 

 glen before it had been disturbed by any bipeds. 

 After a long, careful spy, which seemed ever- 

 lasting and to promise failure, my ear was 

 delighted with a deep guttural, " By Gote, there 

 he is ! " And there was our friend, just risen 

 and stretching himself, preparing for his break- 



