he is sober; but when he takes
one of his drinking fits, he seems to lose all control over himself, and
goes from bad to worse, till a fit of _delirium tremens_ almost kills
him. He usually goes for a good while after that without touching a
drop, and at such times he is a most respectful, painstaking man,
willing to take any amount of trouble to serve one, but when he breaks
down he is as bad as ever--nay, even worse. My wife and I have done
what we could for him, and have tried to get him to take the temperance
pledge, but hitherto without avail. My wife has even gone the length of
becoming a total abstainer, in order to have more influence over him;
but I don't quite see my way to do that myself."

"Then _you_ have not yet done all that you could for the man, though
your wife has," thought Barret; but he did not venture to say so.

At this point in the conversation they reached a place where the road
left the shores of the loch and ascended into the hills. Being rather
steep at its lower end, they alighted and walked; the laird pointing
out, as they ascended, features in the landscape which he thought would
interest his young guest.

"Yonder," he said, pointing to a wood on the opposite side of the
valley, "yonder is a good piece of cover for deer. The last time we had
a drive there we got three, one o' them a stag with very fine antlers.
It was there that a young friend of mine, who was not much accustomed to
sporting, shot a red cow in mistake for a deer! The same friend knocked
over five or six of my tame ducks, under the impression that they were
wild ones, because he found them among the heather! Are you fond of
sport?"

"Not particularly," answered Barret; "that is, I am not personally much
of a sportsman, though I have great enjoyment in going out with my
sporting friends and watching their proceedings. My own tastes are
rather scientific. I am a student of natural history--a botanist and
geologist--though I lay no claim to extensive knowledge of science."

"Ah! my young friend, then you will find a powerful sympathiser in my
niece Milly--that is, when the poor child gets well--for she is half mad
on botany. Although only two weeks have passed since she came to us,
she has almost filled her room with specimens of what she calls rare
plants. I sometimes tease her by saying it is fortunate that bracken
does not come under that head, else she'd pull it all up and leave no
cover for the poor rabbi