196 ANGLING REMINISCENCES. 



LOCH SKENE. 



What epicure could desire a richer, more deli- 

 cate morsel, than a Loch Skene trout ? it is the 

 perfection of a fish curves of a pink carnation 

 colour, and is creamed, betwixt the flakes, with a 

 white, oily, well-flavoured substance. Not large 

 is it, but thick-shaped, golden-hued, and firm, becom- 

 iDg after death ribbed over with irregular clouds on 

 a bright, dainty ground. 



Our rods were soon up ; we intended not to angle 

 there, but help it how could we, although Win- 

 terhope-burn was scarcely half a mile off ? There 

 are few days that suit Loch Skene, and this was 

 not one of these. Its trout rise freest during a 

 warm, soft, south-west wind, in a small, quick ripple, 

 and a gentle rain ; but the water at present was all 

 eddied and frothy, our lines were carried up from 

 its surface, and we were unable to guide to our 

 wishes the guileful fly. Not a dozen betwixt us in 

 two tedious hours did we capture ; and, vexed at our 

 ill success, away again we set toward Winterhope- 

 burn ; yet not till the mist had cleared off, and we 

 had sung out to the circle of hills, in order to stir 

 the slumber of an echo choir. Hymned back were 

 the rotund words, as if by a thousand voices, imitative 

 of misery the misery of the damned ! 



