BLACKGAME 239 



mind that only to-morrow the country 

 must once more give place to the city, the 

 clean, wholesome fragrance of a north- 

 country morning to the acrid smell of the 

 wood pavement, and the homely salutation, 

 in purest Doric, of the old man raking 

 the gravel to the cockney twang of the 

 clerk in your office. 



But the sound of wheels disturbs your 

 meditations, and you turn to meet your 

 host, who has been pacing the lawn in 

 consultation with his factor, and now 

 hurries across to see to the safe disposal of 

 guns, cartridge bags, coats, and sandwiches. 



Taking the reins from the groom, he 

 swings himself on to the box-seat of the 

 dogcart, bids you mount beside him, and 

 presently you have rounded the ivy-clad 

 walls of the old pele tower, standing on 

 the still older mote-hill at the foot of the 

 long avenue of limes, rumbled over the 

 wooden bridge which spans the reed- 

 fringed outlet of the loch, and are skirting 

 the wooded shores of a wide expanse of 

 water. 



