228 FISHES I HAVE KNOWN 



" kelts," easily captured when helpless and emaci- 

 ated after spawning, and so tough and nasty that 

 no wonder the lads protested against it. 



I left the lovely Tees, my next " trouting " being 

 amidst totally different scenery at Moffat, in 

 Dumfriesshire, a favourite watering-place for the 

 well-to-do of Glasgow and Edinburgh. 



It is famous for its chalybeate spring, where, for 

 the modest sum of twopence, you can obtain a 

 goblet of the clearest sparkling water. I was 

 inveigled into taking the necessary two-mile walk 

 (de rigeur before breakfast), and also into swallow- 

 ing a large glass of this water, so nauseating in its 

 flavour of rotten eggs that I felt sick for hours 

 afterwards. Certainly there is no need to go abroad 

 to undergo a " cure ! " 



The charming little rivers, Moffat, Annan, and 

 Evan, are close to the town. Clear as crystal they 

 are, with pebbly bottoms, and wind their course 

 between solemn hills, crowned to their summit 

 with purple heather. 



There, along the treeless banks, out of sight as 

 much as possible, I fished, and at every coil of 

 billowy cloud the fish would rush at my two flies, 

 fighting for them, until I had a basketful of those 



o o 



delightfully plucky little burn trout. To the 

 horror of my economical Scottish housekeeper, I 



