CHAPTER IV 

 MY FIRST TWEED SALMON 



IT may, I trust, be forgiven me if, when thinking of 

 all the salmon I have taken in half a century of 

 attempts and hopes for that 7O-pounder which is^ever 

 lying expectant in the angler's imagination, I catch 

 my first Tweed salmon over again. A good deal of 

 water must have run through Kelso Bridge since, for 

 I had better confess it was in the month of October, 

 1889. In that year the autumn fishing in all Scot- 

 land on the rivers that remained open during the month 

 was decidedly capricious. This was one of those ex- 

 peditions when it is wise to make the most of the tiniest 

 opportunities of amusement, and I began very fairly 

 with a fellow-passenger in the train, one of the class 

 which, seeing your fishing things amongst the baggage, 

 arrogates to itself the right to open a volley of ques- 

 tions and remarks upon you about fishing. This ex- 

 ample at once showed the extent of his knowledge upon 

 the subject by the declaration : " I never have the 

 patience to fish ; it's so long waiting for a bite." He 

 also hinted agreement with the saying attributed to 

 Johnson. There is not so much ignorance in these 

 days on the subject, and the majority of people I fancy 

 now know the difference between sitting down before 

 a painted float and the downright hard work and in- 

 cessant activity of a day with salmon or trout rod. 



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