one side of the crag. In all probability this was the case, for those ancient predatory chieftains were generally careful to plant their eyries in naturally strong localities, from whence they could pounce conveniently on the wayfarer. Between Dirlot and the Strathmore Lodge all is moorland vast and wild, broken only by the now dwarfed river which murmurs over its limestone bed. Four miles further and we came to a plantation, or rather an attempt at one, for the stripling trees scarce showed amidst the tall heather. Beyond this is the lodge. We were just passing it when a young gentleman ran out to convey an offer from his father to put up our dog-cart at the lodge, and before we had time to answer, the latter appeared, repeated the offer, and added that he hoped we would dine with him and his friends. Sportsmen are not remarkable for standing on ceremony, so we accepted the kind invitation, and then drove on to the lake.

This is a true Highland loch, set solemnly in the wild moorland, fringed on three sides by a strip of golden sand; beyond this tall heather glorious in purple bloom, and more distant dark brown hills, some rising to the dignity of mountain forms, casting their sombre shadows over vast regions of dusk.

We sent back our dog-cart to the lodge, launched a tiny bark that we found on the shore, and pushed out on the lonely mountain mere. Mighty shadows stalked

across the lake, flung from cloud mountains, behind which the sun shone with great brilliancy. Only during moments of gloom could we hope to catch a salmon, for though the lake was ruffled by a breeze which wafted the agreeable perfume of the bog-myrtle over us, the water, from long drought, was very clear and low.

The

The rods are up, we select flies that we fondly hope will prove irresistible, and we thresh the lake with infinite pains over every spot where we conceive it possible that a salmon may lurk. No success. We change our flies, try again with the same negative result. gillies, indeed, insisted that one salmon at least coquetted with our flies, but I believe that we had not a true business-like rise from a single salmon during three hours. This, you will admit, was not encouraging, and as we had come out to catch fish, we determined to try whether we could fill our baskets with trout. The day was far spent, so we launched an otter, trimming a hundred yards of line with a great variety of flies. The result was amazing. As fast as the line was carried out, the flies were seized, and when a fortunate trout contrived to separate himself from the barbed lure, a dozen hungry fish sprang at the liberated fly. Let no one persuade you that the trout of Loch More love a particular fly. Our experience abundantly attests that all manner of flies, large or small, dark or bright, are equally welcome to the trout of that lake. And, indeed, the result of

из

much fishing in many waters convinces me that a few flies are sufficient for all purposes, and that well-stocked fly books, though very pleasant to turn over, are very useless in proportion to the cost of their contents.

At every haul of the otter dozens of trout became our prey. At this rate we soon filled our panniers; but do not be apprehensive that we exhausted the supply; for I venture to assert that if you fish Loch More this autumn, you will not come to the conclusion that the trout have been thinned by our proceedings.

The trout of Loch More are not to be compared to those of Loch Watten in size or flavour. At the same time they are delicate eating, and if not as large as their brethren in Loch Watten, they are far more

numerous.

Thus, although we did not catch a foxy salmon, we spent a very pleasant day on this wild moorland mere, and did ample justice to an excellent dinner that awaited us on our return to the Lodge at Strathmore.

Excursion to Thurso Bay.

CHAP. XI.

The Town of Thurso. Its Ancient Importance. Thurso Castle.- Monument to Earl Harold.— Nature of the Bay.-Palace of the Bishops of Caithness.-Scrabster.-Interesting Geological Locality.-The Old Red Sandstone.-The Flagstones of Caithness.-Fossil Organisms.-Gigantic Fucoids.-Rock Sepulchres.-Deep Caverns.-Rock Pigeons.-Varieties of Species.-Holbourn Head.-The Clett.-Majestic Scenery.-Deep-sea Fishing.Long Lines.-The Cod's Parasites.-Variety of Fish.-Destructive Dog Fish.-Return to Brawl.

IF tired of me as a sporting companion, you must skip one more chapter, for I purpose devoting this to an account of our adventures during a long day spent in the Bay of Thurso, shooting rock pigeons and deepsea fishing. Let me add, however, that we shall visit a remarkable geological locality; and if you are not entirely insensible to the charms of the stony science, I think that we shall see something to interest us.

An hour's drive brought us to Thurso. This is an ancient town, deriving its name from Thor, one of the northern deities, and Aa, which in the Scandinavian dialect signifies a river. Thurso is said to have been a

place of considerable consequence many centuries ago. So much so indeed, that it appears by the Statutes of King David II., who reigned in the early part of the fourteenth century, that the weights and measures of Thurso were adopted as the standards of Scotland. This doubtless is explained by the circumstance that Thurso was formerly the great mart for trade between Scotland and Norway, Sweden, and Denmark; and thus the weights used in that town might, with great propriety, become the standards of the kingdom.

and near

A few old houses may be seen in the town; it, a little to the east, stands Thurso Castle, the seat of Sir George Sinclair, whose kindness and hospitality remain among my pleasant memories of Caithness. Above Thurso Castle the eye is arrested by a tower-like edifice. This was erected by the late Sir John Sinclair over the reputed burial place of Earl Harold, the possessor at one time of the greater part of Caithness, who was slain in battle in the year 1196.

We arranged with a fisherman at Thurso to let us have a stout boat, with deep-sea fishing lines, hooks, &c.; and when all the necessary preparations were made, we embarked at the mouth of the river. Thurso Bay is well protected from east and west winds by Dunnet and Holbourn Heads; while on the north, acting as a gigantic breakwater, rises precipitous Hoy, one of the Orkneys, bounded by cliffs on the west upwards of 1000