176 WANDERINGS AND MEMORIES 



ran on to a dead tree and broke the cast. It was a 

 veritable tragedy, and one which my unfortunate 

 parent could never refer to afterwards without 

 emotion. Yet if the biggest fish always get away, 

 he had some compensation in knowing that he had 

 killed five fish over 40 lbs. between the years 1886 

 and 1896, and that might be sufficient reward to 

 most anglers. But who indeed — let alone fishermen 

 — ^is ever satisfied in this world ? 



The mere description of salmon-fishing and salmon 

 killing is apt to become monotonous. Nearly 

 every fish plays just in the same way with more or 

 less vigour according to place, power of water and 

 freshness of arrival from the sea, so I will not trouble 

 my readers with anything except just those little 

 incidents of sport which are somewhat exceptional. 

 Personally I always liked fishing in certain spots 

 on the Tay where I knew fish frequented and were 

 difficult to lure. There is one such place, known as 

 Thistlebrig stream, under the cliffs below Stanley, 

 which always gave me particular joy. This is one 

 of the few runs on the Tay where by wading it is 

 possible to kill a good fish when the river is dead 

 low. At such times the river is forced into a narrow 

 channel, where the stream is so broken and swift 

 that it is very difficult to work a boat. Accordingly 

 I used to fish it by wading in from the north bank. 

 Its peculiar attraction lay in the fact that if you 

 hooked a fish above the size of a grilse it invariably 

 dashed straight down-stream to a great still pool on 

 Benchil, a distance of two to three hundred yards. 

 The time given to the angler to turn round and 

 hurry ashore, whilst letting the fish run, was only 

 half a minute, and by the time you had got over 



