FOKAYS AMONG SALMON AND DEER 



CHAPTER I. 



Northward Ho! Donald, the Gillie, and his Capabilities. The river 

 Eedburn. My First rise. Poissonnerie v. Native Element. Fish 

 Hooked. The Struggle. The Victory. The Kettle of Fish. 



MY last adieus being waved to a friend, as he stood 

 on the platform of a London terminus, and watched 

 the departure of the train which was to transport me 

 some 400 miles on my way to the Highlands, I sank 

 back into my seat, and in a spirit of genuine com- 

 miseration began to compare the respective occupations 

 awaiting us for the next few weeks. 



On the one hand arose visions of legs wreathed fan- 

 tastically round the lanky supporters of an official stool ; 

 on the other hand the pleasing contrast of those same 

 members briskly bearing me over the moors, or climb- 

 ing the mountain side. Here eyes were poring labo- 

 riously over columns of s. d. ; there carefully searching 

 the dim distance for antlers rising indistinctly from 

 the heather. 



Behind me was the grey canopy, which, like a huge 

 umbrella, though without its advantages, hung sus- 

 pended over the metropolis, shutting out from its busy 



