116 SALMON FISHING IN THE TWEED 



deep in the water, where I could make but little 

 way. With a shorter line, and good footing, I 

 might have kept above my fish when he crossed 

 over and made up the stream, and thus have held 

 the line tight ; but as it was, it hung back in a 

 huge sweep, that would have gone round the 

 foundations of another Carthage ; which sweep, 

 coming in contact with a concealed rock or stone, 

 gave the fish a dead pull, and he broke it incon- 

 tinently : abut, evasit, erupit. It was very distress- 

 ing — very. 



Now having your line in this untoward position 

 is called being drowned, and the breaking of the 

 tackle in the manner described being cut — soul- 

 harrowing, suicidical miseries, that no one can 

 properly describe except Mr. Richard Penn. 



Here ended my fishing, and in summing up 

 the events of the day I had not much to congratu- 

 late myself upon. I had been guilty of almost 

 every error possible : I broke my hook and my 

 rod ; I was moreover cut and drowned, technically 

 speaking. I learned, however, four things : firstly, 

 never to fish in a cast where the Kelpie has his 

 stronghold ; secondly, to look occasionally behind 

 me before my throw, where the banks are steep 

 and near ; thirdly, to try the strength of my hook 

 before I use it, not after; and, fourthly, to get 

 into shoes of a proper consistency, and well studded 

 with nails of Brobdingnag dimensions. Take warn- 

 ing, gentle readers, from these disasters, which are 

 recounted for your benefit and instruction. 



The day following I was more successful ; for 

 1 shot twelve brace of partridges, and killed seven 



