6 HAPPY HUNTING-GEOUNDS 



century since I listened to them. Then there were 

 other amusements, such as thought-reading, impro- 

 vised charades and dramatic duologues, but I cannot 

 profess to give an exhaustive list. I remember 

 particularly a can-can danced by the nimble fore- 

 fingers of Archie Stewart Wortley, his two hands 

 personating the male and female performers. Scots- 

 men are wrongly supposed to be devoid of a sense of 

 humour, but I can still see in my mind's eye the tears 

 of merriment running down the cheeks of one of the 

 spectators of this remarkable tour de force. 



Another pleasant place where I was frequently a 

 guest during the same decade, was Fasque in Kincar- 

 dineshire, then the home of that fine old Tory, Sir 

 Thomas Gladstone. Unlike his more famous brother 

 in tastes as in political views, he was a keen sportsman, 

 and an excellent shot. There was no grouse ground 

 in the immediate neighbourhood of the house, but there 

 were plenty of roe deer and black-game in the coverts, 

 and wild duck frequented the home lake in the park 

 where I enjoyed some good days' fishing, getting capital 

 baskets of trout of an average weight of about half 

 a pound. There was also excellent partridge shooting, 

 and I had many a long day's walking in company with 

 my host himself, although he had already passed his 

 seventieth year. There was no driving ; that easier and 

 more luxurious way of getting partridges was never 

 during his reign introduced at Fasque. 



Sir Thomas protected his long nether limbs on 

 these occasions with a pair of many-buttoned leather 

 gaiters reaching far above the knee ; and after each 

 field of roots had been thoroughly worked, he used 

 to call a halt, and solemnly remove these leggings, 



