io8 ANGLING SKETCHES 



fair, I hope, will absolve. Who are we, to scruti- 

 nise human motives, and to award our blame to 

 actions which, perhaps, might have been our own, 

 had opportunity beset and temptation beguiled 

 us ? There is a certain point at which the keenest 

 sense of honour, the most chivalrous affection and 

 devotion, cannot bear the strain, but break like a 

 salmon line under a masterful stress. That my 

 friend succumbed, I admit ; that he was his own 

 judge, the severest, and passed and executed sen- 

 tence on himself, I have now to show. 



I shall never forget the shock with which I read 

 in the ' Scotsman,' under ' Angling,' the following 

 paragraph : 



' Tweed. Strange Death of an Angler. An 

 unfortunate event has cast a gloom over fishers in 



this district. As Mr. K , the keeper on the 



B water, was busy angling yesterday, his 

 attention was caught by some object floating on 

 the stream. He cast his flies over it, and landed 

 a soft felt hat, the ribbon stuck full of salmon- 

 flies. Mr. K at once hurried up-stream, filled 

 with the most lively apprehensions. These were 



