ZTbomas ZTo& Stofcfcart 505 



of which he accused himself. Although a great many 

 men would call him an idler, the few men capable of 

 appreciating his powers and the conditions which alone 

 were favourable to them, would admit that he wasted far 

 less of his time than those who make haste to be rich. 

 The proof was in his unfailing content. ' My life,' he 

 wrote a few weeks before he died, ' has abounded in 

 happy passages. I have been blessed with a joyous and 

 loving wife, attached children, many genial friends, 

 many endearing associations and delights, also a com- 

 petent income so far as my wants in that direction 

 extend. What more can a man desire ? ' 



His temper was irascible, and when he and his lifelong 

 friend John Wilson, whose death was a blow to Stoddart 

 from which he never wholly recovered, met after a long 

 absence they would become so heated in argument and 

 raise their voices to such a bellicose pitch, that any 

 stranger overhearing them would certainly have thought 

 that they were coming to blows. Yet a few minutes 

 later they would be bidding one another good-night with 

 laughter on their lips. There were occasions, however, 

 on which Stoddart's vehemence led to personal assault. 

 His great rival as an angler at Kelso was a Doctor 

 David Robertson, an old Tweedsider, who had resented 

 from the first Stoddart's encroachment on what he 

 deemed his prerogative. The word-combats between 

 them were frequent and bitter. Both indulged freely in 

 invective, but Stoddart was the keener at repartee, and 

 his taunts had a sting which cut his adversary to the 

 quick. In one of these encounters Robertson, exasper- 

 ated by some particularly cutting retort of his adversary, 



