“A large party were assembled at Black Hall, in Kincardineshire, time, the end of July, or beginning of August. We had all been shooting snipe and flapper-ducks, in a large morass on the estate called Lumphannon. We had been wading amongst bulrushes, up to our middles, for seven or eight hours, and had had a capital dinner. After the ladies had gone to the drawing room, I fell asleep; and, about nine o’clock, was awakened by the late Sir Andrew Keith Hay, who said, ‘Ross, old fellow! I want you to jump up, and go as my umpire with Lord Kennedy, to Inverness. I have made a bet of twenty-five hundred pounds a side, that I get there, on foot, before him!’ Nothing came amiss to the men of that day. My answer was, ‘All right, I’m ready’; and off we started, there and then, in morning costume, with thin shoes and silk stockings on our feet. We went straight across the mountains, and it was a longish walk. I called to my servant to follow with my walking shoes and worsted stockings, and Lord Kennedy did the same. They overtook us after we had gone seven or eight miles. Fancy my disgust! My idiot bought me, certainly, worsted stockings, but, instead of shoes, a pair of tight Wellington boots! The sole of one boot vanished twenty-five miles from Inverness, and I had, now, to finish the walk barefooted. We walked all night, next day, and the next night—raining in torrents all the way. We crossed the Grampians, making a perfectly straight line, and got to Inverness at one P.M. We never saw, or heard, anything of Sir A. L. Hay, (he went by the coach road, viâ Huntly and Elgin, thirty-six miles further than we, but a good road) who appeared at ten A.M. much cast down at finding he had been beaten.” There have been divers wagers about coaching, and also about horses, which have nothing to do with horse racing, and a few may be chronicled here.