i6 



ANGLING SKETCHES 



side, on the land which Sir Walter Scott was 

 always so anxious to buy from Mr. Nichol Milne. 

 Almost the last entry in his diary, at Naples, 

 breathes this unutterable hope. He had deluded 



SMAII.HOI.ME TOWER 



himself into believing that his debts were paid, 

 and that he could soon ' speak a word to young 

 Nichol Milne.' The word, of course, was never 

 spoken, and the un supplanted laird used to let us 

 fish for his perch to our hearts' desire. Never was 



