GROUSE SHOOTING IN SCOTLAND 69 



posal. He only has to say the word, and he 

 can ride, motor, fish, shoot, sail, play tennis or 

 golf, flirt — everything is at his hand. He has 

 only got to choose. 



The Scottish castle in which I found myself 

 was typical of this perfect hospitality. Each 

 guest received a gardenia every evening to 

 wear as a buttonhole with his dress clothes. 

 In the morning the party started forth by 

 coach and four, while I followed with my 

 kindly host in a little American buggy. This 

 he drove at full gallop to the rendezvous, as 

 anything else bored him. The springs of the 

 little carriage were so constructed that I was 

 not shaken in the least. These drives I found 

 both novel and delightful, for at home one 

 only sees runaway cabs and mounted batteries 

 in full gallop. 



We were a very happy party, some ten 

 gentlemen and eight ladies, all most suitably 

 but smartly dressed, and behind them, following 

 their masters, the loaders, typical, clean- 

 shaven, emotionless Englishmen, each carrying 

 a pair of guns, without straps (guns with 



