190 THE BORDER ANGLER. 



amuse themselves by rushing up and down the burn 

 throwing stones into it. What Job — supposing him to 

 have been an angler, as is highly probable from his 

 character — would have done under such circumstances 

 we cannot say ; but the angler who has not leave to 

 fish in the ponds must make up his mind to amuse 

 himself for the day in some other way than by angling. 

 There are no trout in the little burn that comes down 

 from the reputed Habbie's IIoAve, and feeds the upper 

 pond. It is, however, a beautiful spot. The green 

 Pentlands rise sheer up on each side ; the glen narrows 

 to a pass ; the streamlet drops from one side of the 

 hill, forming tiny cascades ; and if the angler climbs 

 up by the linns, he will see below each fall a clear 

 rocky pool, of considerable depth, but apparently with- 

 out a single fishy inhabitant. We have thrown in a 

 worm in vain, and turned over the stones fruitlessly — 

 so have come to the conclusion that these pools are 

 tenantless, and probably have always been so. There 

 is not, however, any such tempting place for lasses to 

 bathe in as is described in Allan Ramsay's beautiful 

 pastoral. This must be sought for at New Hall, five 

 or six miles farther on the road to Dumfries. 



At the very mouth of the Esk, notwithstanding the 

 Duke of Buccleuch's statement, sea-trout are still to 

 be taken. On a Saturday afternoon in April 1857, 

 when the river was actually opaque from the stuffs 

 let off from the mills at Lasswade and other places 

 (which are cleared weekly), we caught a pretty fish, 

 upwards of a pound in weight, while experimenting 

 with a very small grilse-fly, and raised another. We 

 believe one or two are to be had almost every day of 



