CHAPTER XII 



AT the time of my marriage, I had never been north of 

 the Tweed ; but three years later, after disporting 

 myself at Hurlingham and Ranelagh with whip and spur, 

 and at the former and the Gun Club with villainous saltpetre 

 (or its nitrate substitute) throughout the London season, 

 I began to cherish the idea of visiting " the land o' cakes," 

 during August and September. Not that rugged scenery 

 appeals to me very strongly, my soul being far more deeply 

 stirred by pastoral beauty ; especially in the halcyon days of 

 Spring ; but, nevertheless, I am not prepared to go all the 

 way with Samuel Johnson in asserting that the only good road 

 in Scotland is the straightest and shortest out of it ! Moreover, 

 I had yet to shoot a red-grouse ; though, as herein before 

 chronicled, several of the black, skew-tailed variety had fallen 

 to my shot. And were there not on those forests and heights 

 noble stags to be stalked, besides roes and other small " deer," 

 such as " cock," snipe, duck and what not ! Then, thought I, 

 if I can but find a pitch where salmon and trout lend enchant- 

 ment to the let, I can have a bully time ! 



So I sought out that rara avis, a reliable sporting agent, 

 and invited him to lay his wares before me. 



In the end I was tickled by a partnership proposition, and 

 one Collinson Hall was advertising half-share in Glencalater, 

 by Braemar, and this bit of sporting Scotland was highly 

 recommended by the agent as having been " personally 

 inspected " and vouched for. I may here interpolate that in 

 later years this same Glencalater was occupied by my old 

 friend the late Mr. Panmure Gordon, who, I believe, enjoyed 

 the doubtful honour of entertaining " Kaiser Bill " at the lodge. 



So the loth of August found my C. O., my first-born (Ray- 

 mond), my gentleman's gentleman and myself en route for 



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