596 



The Country Gentleman's Magazine 



gel a chance. This is just like my luck, 

 thought I. I fish like a slave for hours, and 

 Avhen I catch a fish he swims off to sea with 

 my line. " He's gone," cried Wullie. " You're 

 a - — -," said I. The struggle went on. I 

 thought of my friends at home, who were 

 longing to hear of my first salmon. I wished 

 the man who made tlie reel well under the 

 Tweed. I wished the gut on the fly"' were 



■* A silver doctor, l^y Beloe, of Coldstream. 



double instead of light single. I nodded, 

 pulled, let out line again, and so on, in an 

 agony until the shades of evening came on. 

 At last, just before dark, Wullie let go of the 

 reel, rushed into the river, and cleverly put 

 the landing net under my fish. At last he 

 was mine. He was a salmon of 22 lb., white 

 as silver, fresh from the sea, and, as better 

 judges than me declared, the finest fish of the 

 season. 



C. S. I. 



