AMONG THE BORDER STREAMS 199 



the truth of the ballad, which John Ruskin, some- 

 where, selects as typical of all that is best in ballads, 

 still holds : 



Tweed said to Till, 

 What gars ye riu so still? 

 Said Till to Tweed, 

 Though ye rin wi' speed 

 And I rin slaw. 

 Whare ye droun ae man, 

 I droun twa. 



The best trouting, as well as the most picturesque 

 stretch, is from Peebles to Abbotsford. On the 

 way, every pool has a name, borrowed from some- 

 thing characteristic. Each envious, or incredulous 

 listener knows what is meant, when one boasts of 

 having hooked a three-pound trout in the Nut- 

 wood pool ; " but just as I was landing him, you 

 know " 



Under ordinary circumstances, August is not a 

 good month for day-fishing. But in the evening, 

 partly because of the raining down on the surface 

 of the dancing insect life, the trout become lively. 

 Toward eight I start for a favourite stream and 

 pool ; and, as I pass along, the investing mountains 

 become more shadow like. Arrived on the scene, 

 I find that the smaller trout are jumping, some of 

 them clean out of the water; a sign that I may make 

 my preparations in a leisurely manner, only hurried 



