Evidently I was mistaken about goff. Cycling's the thing in Scotland.

_Goasyoucan, Inverness-shire, Sat.u.r.day._--Wrong again. Not goff nor cycling is the thing to do in Scotland. It's stalking. Soon learn that great truth at Goasyoucan. The hills that encircle the house densely populated with stags. To-day three guns gra.s.sed nine, one a royal. This the place to spend a happy day, crouching down among the heather awaiting the fortuitous moment. Weather no object. Rain or snow out you go, submissive to guidance and instruction of keeper; by comparison with whose tyranny life of the ancient galley-slave was perfect freedom.

Consummation of human delight this, to lie p.r.o.ne on your face amid the wet heather, with the rain pattering down incessantly, or the snow pitilessly falling, covering you up flake by flake as if it were a robin and you a babe in the wood. Mustn't stir; mustn't speak; if you can conveniently dispense with the operation, better not breathe. Sometimes, after morning and greater part of afternoon thus cheerfully spent, you may get a shot; even a stag. Also you may not; or, having attained the first, may miss the latter. At any rate you have spent a day of exhilarating delight.

Stalking is evidently the thing to do in Scotland. It's a far cry to the Highlands. Happily there is Arthur's Seat by Edinburgh town where beginners can practise, and old hands may feign delight of early triumphs.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE "IRREPRESSIBLE" AGAIN

_Gent in Knickerbockers._ "Rummy speakers them 'Ighlanders, 'Enery. When we wos talking to one of the 'ands, did you notice 'im saying '_nozzing_' for '_nothink_,' and '_she_' for '_e_'?"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE LAST STRAW"

"Tired out, are you? Try a drop of brandy! Eh!--what!--confound----By jingo, I've forgotten my flask!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: NOTHING LIKE MOUNTAIN AIR

_Tourist (who has been refreshing himself with the toddy of the country)._ "I shay, ole fler! Highlands seem to 'gree with you wonerfly--annomishtake. Why, you look DOUBLE the man already!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE HEIGHT OF BLISS

_Highland Shepherd._ "Fine toon, Glasco', I pelieve, and lots o' coot meat there."

_Tourist._ "Oh, yes, lots."

_Highland Shepherd._ "An' drink, too?"

_Tourist._ "Oh, yes."

_Highland Shepherd (doubtingly)._ "Ye'll get porter tae yir parrich?"

_Tourist._ "Yes, if we like."

_Highland Shepherd._ "Cra-ci-ous!"

[_Speechless with admiration._

[Ill.u.s.tration: TENACITY

_First North Briton_ (_on the Oban boat, in a rolling sea and dirty weather_). "Thraw it up, man, and ye'll feel a' the better!"

_Second ditto_ (_keeping it down_). "Hech, mon, it's whuskey!!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: EXCUSABLE WRATH

_Drover_ (_exhausted with his struggles_). "Whit are ye wouf, woufan'

there, ye stupit a.s.s! It wud be wis-eer like if ye gang awn hame, an'

bring a barrow!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A SOFT IMPEACHMENT

_Sporting Saxon (mournfully, after three weeks' incessant down-pour)._ "Does it always rain like this up here, Mr. McFuskey?"

_His Guide, Philosopher, and Friendly Landlord (calmly)._ "Oo aye, it's a-ye just a wee bit shooery."!!]

[Ill.u.s.tration: ANTIQUARIAN RESEARCH

2 A.M.

_Brown (who has taken a shooting-box in the Highlands, and has been "celebrating" his first appearance in a kilt)._ "Worsht of these ole-fashioned beshteads is, they take such a lot of climbin' into!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: GUILDERSTEIN IN THE HIGHLANDS

_Mrs. G._ "We must leave this horrible place, dear. The keeper has just told me there is disease on the moor. Good gracious, the boys might take it!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A GREAT DRAWBACK

_Dougal_ (_with all his native contempt for the Londoner_). "Aye, mon, an' he's no a bad shot?"

_Davie._ "'Deed an' he's a verra _guid_ shot."

_Dougal._ "Hech! it's an awfu' peetie he's a Londoner!"]

NOTES FROM THE HIGHLANDS