MARCH 99 



water, I thocht it was a tree.' Another pause. ' An' then 

 I saw twa e'en in it.' 



' And what was it, Sandy ? ' I asked breathlessly. 



' Oh, it was a pike,' he replied laconically. 



'And what did you do, Sandy?' I persisted impa- 

 tiently. 



'/ gaed back f roe the loch for fear o' him,!' 



By this time Sandy had entered my own service as 

 underkeeper, and I had become aware of an interesting 

 fact about his name. He stood on the pay-sheet as 

 Alexander M'Lean, but, although Gaelic has not been 

 spoken in Galloway for nearly four centuries, he was 

 known to all men in ordinary life by the name of Sandy 

 Clenachan, the familiar rendering of his patronymic being 

 a survival of ancient Celtic usage. 



Such are a few of the phantoms moving across the 

 camera obscura of memory. Prosiness is the sin that 

 doth so easily beset old sportsmen, and I am conscious 

 of having committed it ; but perhaps it may be reckoned 

 more venial when the motive is to pay kindly tribute to 

 some of those who have contributed so much to bygone 

 pleasures. 



