SPORT AT POLTALLOCH 229 



into the bag sometimes in the winter with a suspiciously 

 lyre-shaped curl about the tail. Human nature is 

 frail, and it is hardly possible to resist a shot at some 

 glorious old polygamist as he sails over your head in 

 all the perfection of his glossy winter plumage. Apart 

 from laws, which, of course, deserve all respect, there 

 is no time of the year when the old blackcocks might 

 not be thinned with advantage. Still, I do not defend 

 any defiance of the Legislature ; I am no passive 

 resister, and I cry " Peccavi." Let the motorist who 

 has never exceeded the speed limit cast the first 

 stone. 



On we go, past Dunadd, arid Crinan Moss, far be- 

 yond which across the bay, Scarba, and the low part 

 of Jura, are visible where they almost meet at Corry- 

 vreken. Soon the " long walk " brings us to the lodge ; 

 and if the steamer has been up to time we shall find 

 an excellent lunch on the table ; if not, we shall already 

 have "satisfied our desire of food and drink" with 

 mutton broth and roast beef on board the steamer 

 between Tarbert and Ardrishaig. 



I have now reached my destination, and, as the 

 sun sets early at Christmas-time in Argyllshire, there 

 can be no regular shooting to-day ; possibly we may 

 try flighting for duck before tea-time, or stroll upon 

 the links to look for a snipe. Still, there is a pause 

 in the proceedings, of which I will take advantage to 

 make another digression, this time upon the subject 

 of winter shooting in Scotland generally. I do not 

 disparage the delights of a grouse drive, or. even those 

 of a big day at pheasants in the South, especially if 

 the keeper knows how to show them for sport, and 

 not only for massacre. But as I grow older the mere 



