96 THE BORDER ANGLER. 



into the boat, and the other seizes the rope attached to 

 the net — the boat makes its circle in the water, and it 

 is five to one that in ten minutes the salmon is gasping" 

 on the bank. Of course there is no rod-fishing where 

 these shots are pulled ; but in rocky places, where 

 nets cannot be wrought, where salmon or grilse are in- 

 duced by drought to lie, instead of making their way 

 up the river, the angling is sometimes excellent. We 

 are acquainted with an angler who, we have been told, 

 killed seventeen salmon and grilse in one autumn morn- 

 ing, in the stream below the Chain Bridge, about four 

 miles above Berwick, a part of the river which the 

 tide covers every day. At Horncliffe there are one or 

 two casts that are always worth trying when the river 

 is not in a state to induce salmon to run. 



Berwick is a town of 13,000 inhabitants — the ter- 

 minus of the main line of the North British Railway 

 — and with all the accommodation that angler or tra- 

 veller could desire.* About two miles above the town, 

 the Tweed receives its last ally, the Whitadder. 



And so the Tweed is wedded with the sea. The 

 moisture from a thousand hills — the tiny contributions 

 of a thousand rivulets — all the waters that make glad 

 our border-land — represented in one broad stream, pass 

 through the arches of the old bridge of Bei'wick, double 

 round Spittal Point, dash against Queen Elizabeth's 

 pier, and, gliding swiftly outwards, are lost in the 

 German Ocean. 



* For a short description of Berwick, see the " Handbook to 

 Berwick-upon-Tweed." 



