i84 ANGLING & ART IN SCOTLAND 



called him — for these Highlanders are no respecters 

 of persons — but "poor Johnny" at the moment was 

 comfortably ensconced in a feather bed. It was not 

 until four o'clock that they arrived at their destina- 

 tion, and knocked at the door of the hotel. 



Before the echoes caused by their knocking had 

 had time to die away, the door swung open — almost 

 as if an invisible spring had been pressed — and Mr. 

 Gow, in his nightshirt, appeared on the scene, 

 exclaiming as he did so, " I've won the competee- 

 tion ! ! " Indeed so magically rapid was the opening 

 of the door, that it appeared as if our host had 

 been lying in wait behind it on the off-chance of 

 our return, in order to inform us at the earliest 

 possible moment of his piscatorial success — an 

 action, I verily believe, of which he would have 

 been almost capable, such a jovial sportsman 

 was he. 



I have never had the good fortune to witness 

 a more entertaining sight than was presented by 

 Mr. George Gow, placidly standing at the door of 

 his hotel, twiddling the gold seals which depended 

 from a button-hole of his white waistcoat with the 

 utmost nonchalance, while a gentleman in kilts, of 



