lAiiii riiiiii 



T IS a strange thing liow the very mention of salmon 

 fishing makes one prick up one's ears, and how the 

 thought of it sends a sort of thrill through pulses 

 grown old and torpid, and how even when one is 

 declining into the vale of years the prospect of a 

 week's good flailing in a well-stocked, kindly disposi- 

 tioned river sets one's spirits hounding and sparkling 

 with delightful anticipation. We get into the train 

 Avith a choice companion for the long journey North or 

 West. We chirrup and we sing ; very little makes us laugh, and jokes 

 which would have heen regarded at any other time as very small heer are 

 now most excellent fooling. " Ha, ha ! Ho, ho ! Cackle, cackle ! " We're 

 the boys that fear no noise while the thundering cannons roar. " Dash 

 it all ! I feel twenty years younger." " By Jingo ! I feel thirty years 

 younger. I feel — I feel — jolly thirsty, old fellow — don't you ? Liquor, 

 and pass the lotion. Here's health to man and death to fish ! Ha ! real 

 Jamieson that. The dose to he repeated at intervals;" and so by degrees 

 we sober down into the usual fisherman's talk. 



Now, I have fished the majestic Tay and the rushing Spey, the noble 



