CARRON, ROSS-SHIRE. 147 



What is this ? no other than a lively fresh-run sea- 

 trout. 



Otter. A boisterous rollicker, Jack, agile as Har- 

 lequin ; tame him, tame him. 



Leister. 'Tis pretty sport getting hold of such merry 

 ones ; he is sport, however, and must ashore without 

 further ado, else he will aid in rousing his comrades to 

 suspect our propinquity. That was a good salmon 

 you struck at, Tom. 



Otter. Ay, but he is clear off, with the bite of a 

 Limerick, on his tongue-end. Marry ! he will bethink 

 himself well ere he venture again after fly-food. I 

 have taught him to be sapient. 



Leister. A rare spot this for fish, Tom. Look you 

 here what famous fellows are still holding gaudeamus ! 

 but 'tis no use marching my hook over them, they 

 are too saucy to raise a nostril towards me, save in sheer 

 contempt of my skill and feather-craft. Methinks we 

 should abandon the pool for an hour or two, and go sea- 

 wards after the white-trout and finnocks. We have 

 thrashed the water hereabouts to our heart's content, 

 and are not likely to evoke aught more of the monstrous 

 out of it at present. So e'en let us proceed. 



Otter. You advise justly, Jack, but first we may 

 as well make a change in our tackle. I shall append 

 a black-professor and one of my own grasshoppers. 

 'Tis killing, as you know, among sea-trout. The boy 

 will carry our fish. 



