H8 ANGLING SKETCHES 



also : I plodded on with my labour, and went 

 a-fishing when the day promised well. There was 

 a hill loch (Loch Nan) about five miles away, 

 which I favoured a good deal. The trout were 

 large and fair of flesh, and in proper weather they 

 rose pretty freely, and could be taken by an angler 

 wading from the shore. There was no boat. The 

 wading, however, was difficult and dangerous, 

 owing to the boggy nature of the bottom, which 

 quaked like a quicksand in some places. The 

 black water, never stirred by duck or moorhen, 

 the dry rustling reeds, the noisome smell of 

 decaying vegetable-matter when you stirred it up 

 in wading, the occasional presence of a dead sheep 

 by the sullen margin of the tarn, were all opposed 

 to cheerfulness. Still, the fish were there, and the 

 ' lane,' which sulkily glided from the loch towards 

 the distant river, contained some monsters, which 

 took worm after a flood. One misty morning, as 

 I had just topped the low ridge from which the 

 loch became visible, I saw a man fishing from my 

 favourite bench. Never had I noticed a human 

 being there before, and I was not well pleased to 



