WHITEADDER AND LAUDERDALE 



had missed fire for the excellent reason that bull- 

 trout kelts, so far from being illegal booty, were then 

 regarded as undesirables of which the river was well 

 rid, we had at least the domestic triumph of a good 

 basket of what passed, more or less, for salmon. The 

 household ate them with apparent appreciation. The 

 Irishman and I did not take any. We knew enough 

 for that ! 



That was my first experience of the Whiteadder, 

 but many and many a good day I had subsequently 

 with my Irish friend, and others, and we must have 

 taken many a hundred trout out of it between us in 

 various visits in the course of the two or three follow- 

 ing years. It was open fishing, as it mostly is to-day, 

 and a good deal fished even then by anglers from 

 Edinburgh, Newcastle, and elsewhere, and sometimes 

 even as now the scene of fishing-club competitions. 

 Whether there were more trout in this quite remark- 

 able river in those remote days than in these, who 

 shall say ? Everybody of course says there were. But 

 after all it is extremely few people who can speak out 

 of their own experience, and even then one knows the 

 temptation to belaud the past. I have been amused 

 betimes to hear a younger generation refer to the 

 Whiteadder in their father's day as if it was stiff with 

 trout which would rise at your hat. The trout did 

 nothing of the kind, and, moreover, had daily oppor- 

 tunities of distinguishing between the artificial and 

 the natural insect. A south countryman would have 

 called the river very heavily fished in the early seventies. 

 I have myself seen eight rods upon it, between Ellem- 

 ford and Abbey St. Bathans, for two or three consecutive 



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