CLEAR WATERS 



land contains trout. Little more than a dozen miles 

 above the pandemonium of Newcastle and the alto- 

 gether forbidding look of the tidal Tyne with its 

 besmirched industrial surroundings for a good part 

 of that distance, trout and samlets may be seen rising 

 in the clear, broad, stony shallows, and with no obvious 

 reason under such quickly changed conditions why 

 they should not be there and thus disport themselves. 

 The Tyne, unless the English share in the lower Tweed 

 be counted, is of course by far the largest river 

 in the county. The Wansbeck, Coquet, Aln, and 

 Till belong in size to altogether another class. Nay, 

 after the Tyne has split into its north and south forks 

 at Hexham, and begun to count seriously as a trout 

 and salmon river, either branch would still more than 

 hold its own in this respect against any of the sister 

 streams. The river at Hexham just below the parting 

 is of quite noble width, though as merry as a moor- 

 land burn. The bridge requires at least eight arches 

 to span its currents, and the view across it to the old 

 town beyond, crowned with its stately abbey, is one 

 to be held ever in remembrance. 



If you stand in the meadows a mile above, at the 

 junction of the North and South Tyne, it is not 

 difficult to understand why a vast proportion of the 

 ascending salmon take the right-hand turn. Perhaps 

 if the waters were in spate you would understand still 

 better, and feel certain that if you were a salmon 

 you would not hesitate for a moment ; for while 

 the more southerly flood is running a thick yellowy 

 brown, the northern river is pouring in a volume of 

 porter-coloured water redolent of the moorland and 

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