IJEMIXISCEXCES OF A EOSS-SHIEE FOREST. 123 



gentleman, the member for Micl-Lotlrian. That ad- 

 dress, like others we have been promised lately, was 

 postponed till a more convenient season. Eory never 

 heard me till I was standing over him : then looking 

 up, his face beaming with smiles, he pointed with his 

 blood - stained knife to the rifle at his feet. " It's 

 just seven shots I fire oot of her," he said, triumph- 

 antly, 'evidently thinking that, considering the amount 

 of ammunition expended, the result had been highly 

 satisfactory. I tried hard to be angry with him, but 

 broke down in the attempt. " You'll be a grand 

 shot one of those days, Rory," I said, clapping him 

 on the back, and we were as good friends as ever ; 

 lut that stag was uncommon nearly lost. 



And now, after all this talk of disappointments, 

 misfortunes, and youthful indiscretion, gentle reader, 

 will you follow me to the wilds of Hoss- shire for 

 three days' stalking] You will? Then I'll show 

 you that stags are well killed occasionally, as well as 

 wounded and missed. I choose these three days be- 

 cause they were consecutive, because on one of them I 

 killed by far the finest stag I have ever got near, and 

 because I think they are fairly representative of a 

 deer-stalker's life. Imagine then Thursday, the 5th 

 of October, no longer ago than the year 1882. On 

 that morning a lovely morning it was, and positively 

 as warm as summer having breakfasted at seven, 

 after a drive of six miles " down the loch," through 

 scenery unsurpassed in Scotland, I delivered myself 



