Fox Hunting in Scotland 265 



as clean as soap and water could make them. Their horns and 

 hoofs were polished and oiled. The hair had been clipped from 

 the neck, the better to display the beautiful way it sat upon the 

 shoulders. The hair along the back had been parted and 

 flattened by a brush and comb; they were, indeed, the most 

 beautiful and most perfect lot that can be imagined. 



Our host is a great "free kirk" man and we like to touch 

 him on the subject occasionally just to tap liis humour, if 

 notliing more. So we remark at last when our adjectives have 

 given out over the cattle, "You free kirk Scotchmen have 

 a lot to answer for ; the good book says we must not covet and 

 here you keep leading out one magnificent beast after another, 

 while for every one a black mark goes down in the big 

 book against me for coveting it. Now what do you sav to 

 that?" 



"A dinna ken but a'm thinking," he replied, in a slow and 

 solemn way befitting so grave a subject. "A dinna ken but 

 a'm thinldng, ye will find there's a wee note on the margin of 

 the book saying ye had sufficient cause." 



The cows being duly examined and admired, we return to 

 the house to talk "Coo" and hear the history of the winning or 

 losing of the cups. 



Paintings and jihotographs, representing noted bulls and 

 champion cows, cover the walls, and make material to talk 

 about after honest folks should be in bed. 



The programme for to-morrow is that we are to drive to 

 the meet in a two-wheeled cart, wliile William, the manservant, 

 on a "fell" hill-pony, leads our hunters on to Glencliff moor, 

 some twelve miles away. 



Breakfast over, we go to the stable yard to inspect our 

 mounts. Master Thomas McDougal, aged seven, and Jamie, 

 his wee brother, are there ahead of us, the former up on one of 

 the hunters, walking him about. 



"Whatever are ye up to noo, ma wee mannie?" called the 



