THE JED — ITS WOODED BANKS. 153 



tirely lose not only his temper but his time ; he will 

 get into a furious passion, and will obstinately declare 

 to himself that he will be dee'd if he be beaten by trees, 

 let them grow ever so thickly or perversely. And so 

 he will get worse and worse ; keeping the recording 

 angel busy for a whole forenoon, the perspiration pour- 

 ing over his (the angler's, not the angel's) face, his 

 pocket-book rapidly thinning of his favourite flies, and 

 people passing will wonder how the fisher's art should 

 ever have been called the Contemplative Man's Ke- 

 creation. We are drawing no fancy picture, but what 

 we ourselves, in common with hundreds, have expe- 

 rienced. There is nothing so tempting as a cast that 

 shall bring your fly under some overhanging branch, 

 where imagination depicts a monster ready to seize 

 it : but if the fly can't be got there, why should you 

 persist in trying it ? Flee the temptation — walk a few 

 miles if necessary to some point where you have water 

 free from foliage — and the result will be that you will 

 preserve your serenity and probably fill your basket. 



Who does not admire trees and rivers in combina- 

 tion ; but let us add, why should the wood and water 

 crowd each other ? To be an angler, Burns, in his pe- 

 tition for trees to adorn the banks of the Bruar, most 

 unaccountably neglected to stipulate that they should 

 not approach within a dozen yards of the water's edge. 

 Overlooking this unfortunate feature in its sylvan adorn- 

 ment, that it sadly interrupts angling, it must be ac- 

 knowledged that the Jed for the last few miles of its 

 course is preeminently beautiful. 



Jedburgh itself is an ancient town, that for centuries 

 had to bide the brunt of southern invasion, which was 



