THE TEVIOT BREED. 293 



the river. On reaching that part of Teviot which runs 

 opposite Roxburgh boat-house, I was struck, as I had 

 previously been more than once, with the appearance 

 of the water a little further down, as being a likely 

 refuge place for any stray pike which some large flood 

 might possibly have carried away from the cauld at 

 Mount Teviot. Accordingly, acting under this im- 

 pression, I mounted appropriate tackle, appending the 

 ordinary double-barbed gorge hook, and baiting it with 

 a small trout. Holding the rod in my left hand, I hove 

 the lure well out beyond a bed of pickerel weed which 

 extended to some distance from under the rush-lined 

 margin beside me. Scarcely was the bait out of sight, 

 when the half-expected token of a fish having seized it 

 took place. No one that ever felt the first attack of a 

 pike at the gorge-bait can easily forget it. It is not, 

 as might be supposed from the character of the fish, a 

 bold, eager, voracious grasp ; quite the contrary, it is a 

 slow calculating grip. There is nothing about it dash- 

 ing or at all violent ; no stirring of the fins no lashing 

 of the tail no expressed fury or revenge. The whole 

 is mouth- work; calm, deliberate, bone-crashing, deadly 

 mouth- work. You think at the moment you hear the 

 action the clanging action of the fish's jaw-bones ; 

 and such jaw-bones, so powerful, so terrific ! You think 

 you hear the compressing, the racking of the victim 

 betwixt them. The sensation is pleasurable to the 

 angler as an avenger. Who among our gentle craft 

 ever pitied a pike ? I can fancy one lamenting over a 

 salmon or star-stoled trout or playful minnow; nay, I 

 have heard of those who, on being bereft of a pet gold- 

 fish, actually wept ; but a pike ! itself unpitying, un- 

 sparing, who would pity ? who spare ? 



Returning, however, to the point in my narrative at 





