104 A CHALLENGE. 



the grey ruins of the abbey, and the sun which set in 

 splendour beneath the Eildon Hills. Like that sun, his 

 course has been run ; and though disastrous clouds came 

 across him in his career, he went down in unfading glory. 



These golden hours, alas! have long passed; but often 

 have I visions of the sylvan valley, and its glittering 

 waters, with dreams of social intercourse. Abbotsford, 

 Mertoun, Chiefswood, Huntley Burn, Allerley, — when 

 shall I forget ye ! 



But, to our humble business. The swell of the river 

 had been trifling, and it would be fit to fish on the 

 morrow. The later in the day, said Walter the Bold, 

 the better ; so I fidgetted away the early part of the 

 morning, and hauled over my London tackle, which 

 proved unseemly to the sight of the Scotchman. The 

 flies, he said, were dressed like dancing dogs ; but my 

 rod, he owned, was fine. 



At last we started. We had about two or three miles 

 to go to the upper cast, called the "Carry-wheel." As I 

 neared it, and saw the sweep of the gallant river, I stepped 

 out in eagerness till I came to the top of a steep covered 

 with wood, gorse, and broom; then I dashed down the 

 rocks, and found myself on the channel, with the rush of a 

 glorious salmon cast before me. Think of this, ye gudgeon 

 fishers ! The rod was put together in haste, — out came 

 the London book ; and whilst I selected that misnomer a 

 metropolitan salmon fly, a huge fish sprang out of the 

 water before me, bright and lusty. What a challenge ! In 

 my agitation the flies got entangled; — confusion worse 

 confounded beset me. The hooks stuck into my quivering 

 fingers, and then a puff* of wind scattered them abroad 



