uld have been very uncomfortable, three
hundred years ago. I can show you the places to-morrow; indeed, we have
very little in the way of amusement to offer you. Do you fish?'

'I always take a trout rod about with me, in case of the best,' said
Logan, 'but this is "soolky July," you know, and the trout usually seem
sound asleep.'

'Their habits are dissipated here,' said Lord Embleton. 'They begin to
feed about ten o'clock at night. Did you ever try night fishing with the
bustard?'

'The bustard?' asked Logan.

'It is a big fluffy fly, like a draggled mayfly, fished wet, in the dark.
I used to be fond of it, but age,' sighed the Earl, 'and fear of
rheumatism have separated the bustard and me.'

'I should like to try it very much,' said Logan. 'I often fished Tweed
and Whitadder, at night, when I was a boy, but we used a small dark fly.'

'You must be very careful if you fish at night here,' said Lady Mary. 'It
is so dark in the valley under the woods, and the Coquet is so dangerous.
The flat sandstone ledges are like the floor of a room, and then a step
may land you in water ten feet deep, flowing in a narrow channel. I am
always anxious when anyone fishes here at night. You can swim?'

Logan confessed that he was not destitute of that accomplishment, and
that he liked, of all things, to be by a darkling river, where you came
across the night side of nature in the way of birds, beasts, and fishes.

'Mr. Logan can take very good care of himself, I am sure,' said Lord
Embleton, 'and Fenwick knows every inch of the water, and will go with
him. Fenwick is the water-keeper, Mr. Logan, and represents man in the
fishing and shooting stage. His one thought is the destruction of animal
life. He is a very happy man.'

'I never knew but one keeper who was not,' said Logan. 'That was in
Galloway. He hated shooting, he hated fishing. My impression is that he
was what we call a "Stickit Minister."'

'Nothing of that about Fenwick,' said the Earl. 'I daresay you would
like to see your room?'

Thither Logan was conducted, through a hall hung with pikes, and guns,
and bows, and clubs from the South Seas, and Zulu shields and assegais,
while a few empty figures in tilting armour, lance in hand, stood on
pedestals. Thence up a broad staircase, along a little gallery, up a few
steps of an old 'turnpike' staircase, Logan reached his room, which
looked down through the trees of the cliff to the Coquet.

Dinner