THE LONE TKOUT. 115 



affects us more or less ; whether it be a woman or a trout, it 

 commands our sympathies, as the following little story will 

 explain. 



It was the end of April, or the very commencement of May, and 

 summer had set in with its usual severity in Scotland, when, 

 mounting my good grey mare, Bess, I at once crossed the Lam- 

 mermuir in search of quiet, rest, solitude, and health. These I 

 was sure to find on the banks of your crystal streams, gently 

 flowing Whitadder ! 



The sun appeared for a short time as I made for the stream, 

 for the trout were busy feeding on the early flies, and I soon 

 caught a dish or basket full, but none of any size. But as the 

 day advanced, heavy cold clouds obscured the heavens, the tem- 

 perature fell, and I resolved to quit the stream which I have 

 never seen since. 



About a mile and a half, or it may be two miles, below Mill 

 Khow, travelling by the banks of the river, the stream forms a 

 line or pool at the base of a scarbrae. As I approached this, 

 the last time I ever fished the Whitadder, it seemed alive with 

 large trout. They rose at flies almost every instant. At the 

 first cast of the line, 1 hooked a good-sized trout, and placing it 

 in my basket, threw again. Nothing rose : I stood amazed ; for 

 that pool, which an instant before was so full of life and of the 

 finny brood, was now still as death. I mused and pondered. At 

 once it flashed across my mind that I had caught the sole tenant 

 of the pool and stream. To remove it carefully from the basket, 

 to place it gently by the margin of the stream and in water suf- 

 ficiently deep to cover it, was the work of an instant. At first it 

 lay motionless, and turned upwards. I thought it dead. But 

 presently I could perceive signs of returning life. It made a con- 

 vulsive gasp or two, and springing above the waters, next diving 

 into the pool, it disappeared. 



Seated by the banks, I watched for some time to see if it 

 should again appear ; it did so, in chase of flies. I felt relieved 

 and rejoiced, as I journeyed home ward, that I had not caught and 

 destroyed the sole tenant of the pool. 



Men at a certain period of life lose their taste for angling ; 

 but they recover it again. I have passed the period, but be 



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