DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT i8i 



In the visitors' book you may see the names of 

 nany clever fishers, and amongst them that of Mr 

 Cholmondeley Pennell, who, perhaps, has been more 

 successful on the Shiel than any other man. His 

 captures, and those of others, as recorded in that 

 book, make hopeful reading for the new-comer, as, 

 given a full river, there is no need, nor time, to sigh at 

 their successes; he may hope to beat all records. 



The hotel has amongst its men-servants one whose 

 duty it is to get fish for the table when the anglers 

 fail, and for this purpose he may use a net at the 

 river's mouth or a rod upon the river. His rod is old, 

 battered, broken, spUced, and bound with rough cord 

 in sundry weeik places; but, nevertheless, seek out 

 the owner of it, and get from him information where 

 to go and what fly to use. 



Glenshiel is hard, both for the mind and body, 

 to get away from. Ask your kindly landlady about 

 the drive back to Glenelg and the day the Mallaig 

 boat leaves there. We had our day fixed for returning, 

 and started asking questions over-late, so that our 

 getting back was roundabout. But we managed it 

 by driving to Strome Ferry to catch the eleven twenty- 

 five. The distance by the road is somewhere near to 

 twenty miles, and to accomplish it the mail allows four 

 hours. We rose very early, and did the task comfort- 

 ably, although we had so many hills to climb. At 

 a ferry there was to cross we were delayed while men 

 were summoned, the boat brought over, and horses, 

 cart, and luggage packed in it. But we were still 

 ahead of the mail, which every day does this long 

 journey, and, as we mounted the hills on the other 

 side, we saw it reach the ferry -stage. There was 

 time at Strome Ferry for a real breakfast, and time 

 to prepare ourselves for a renewal of the treat of 

 a run over the Highland Railway to Perth, and then, 

 by the L. and N. Western, to 'that dear old hut, our 

 home/ 



