88 LINES IN PLEASANT PLACES 



looked as if they had burst into rich white blossom in 

 full bearing. The small sleet, which followed in the 

 afternoon as a natural fizzling out of the storm, and a 

 warm wind quickly did their duty, and we had the 

 pleasure of seeing the pines shed their blossoms before 

 our eyes ; they fell with melancholy drip down to the 

 carpets of rotting leaves, leaving the trees to their 

 funereal winter black. 



One other musing of the day. There is a legend in 

 Nithsdale that Burns used to go a-fishing when he lived 

 at Dumfries. If so, it is quite possible that his famous 

 poetic idea came to him one day while fishing, perhaps 

 with a brother exciseman : 



And like a snowflake on the river, 

 One moment here, then gone for ever. 



Friday brought a contrast indeed. A sharp frost 

 hardened up the country during the night and the 

 sun rose boldly into a cloudless sky without any shilly- 

 shally before nine o'clock. It was along iron-bound 

 roads, with the meltings of yesterday converted to ice, 

 that I drove to my allotted beat. There was a won- 

 derful change from yesterday ; the golden plover on 

 the flats were not briskly moving on the moistening 

 turf as before, though flocks of woodpigeons were astir. 

 The pure snow, which remained on the low land, was 

 crisp and sparkling, diamonding a fair white world. 

 The river had fallen, of course, since the snow of yester- 

 day had made no difference. The evidence was plain 

 enough. You read it in the green margin glistening 

 against the snow line sinuously left along the banks. 

 Tay looked beautifully black, moreover, and the boat- 

 men said " They ought to come." But I never knew 

 salmon take properly till a frosty day has well ad- 

 vanced, 



