I will say nothing of the chief sport
of Dee, its salmon-fishing. However fascinating, the rod is a silent
companion, and wants the jovial merriment, shout and halloo, that give
life and cheerfulness to the sport of the hunter. My recollection of
Deeside is in its autumn decking, and shows me old Sir Robert and my
lady, two gentle daughters and four tall stalwart sons--they might have
sat for a group of Osbaldistones to the great painter Walter Scott. I
will not describe the interior of the old house, partly because it was
changing, and every change appeared to me for the worse; but no one
would forget the old hall, where Kneller's picture of Bishop Burnett
still looks down on his modern cousins and their hospitality. It was a
frank and cordial hospitality, of which the genial old bishop would
have approved. The viands were homely almost to affectation. Every day
saw on that board a noble joint of boiled beef, not to the exclusion of
lighter kickshaws; but the beef was indispensable, just as the _bouilli_
still is in some provinces of France. Claret was there in plenty--too
plentiful perhaps; but surely the "braw drink" was well bestowed, for
with it came the droll story, the playful attack and ready retort, the
cheerful laugh--always good humour. A dinner at Crathes was what the
then baronet, old Sir Robert, would call the "best of good company."
Another part of the house I well remember--the place, half gun-room,
half servant's hall--where we prepared for sport in the morning, and
brought the day's bag home at night.
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