118 FISH AND FISHING IN SCOTLAND. 



well attempt, when the day is drawing to a close, the road over 

 Cockburnlaw ; he must not, in fact, having regard to his per- 

 sonal safety. Eeturn, therefore, to the Cottage, and if the angler 

 be inclined next day to fish the waters from the angle below the 

 mill of St. Bathan's, let him return to this point early next 

 morning, and be prepared for the roughest day's sport he ever 

 saw. 



Let your rod be a short salmon rod ; your tackle fine but 

 excellent ; your bait minnow ; and commence at the bend below 

 the mill of St. Bathan's. Heavy streams follow ; there is 

 scarcely standing room to fish the stream and pool ; the trout 

 are large and active, and it is difficult to land them. As you 

 descend the gorge, into which the river now plunges, the stream 

 becomes more and more tumultuous, the ground steep, dan- 

 gerous, and rocky. By climbing the hill, which here rises sharp 

 from the river edge, you lose some streams, but you cannot other- 

 wise descend the river course. I have been assured, that although 

 in floods it is needless to attempt fishing these streams, yet, after 

 long continued droughts, they abound with large trout, which 

 falling down from the Die and the upper waters of the Whit- 

 adder, congregate in those deep and dangerous linns. You come 

 at last to the Copper Mine and Hell's Cauldron or Hole, in which 

 they say salmon are to be found at most times of the year ; but 

 there is no approaching it with rod or angle. 



I had partly fished these wild streams one autumn day, passing 

 many, my object being merely to explore the river banks. At 

 Hell's Cauldron, the river makes a bend or angle to skirt the 

 northern side of lofty Cockburn. I would willingly have ex- 

 plored this, to me unknown portion of the river, from the- 

 Cauldron to Preston Mill, where the river, escaping from the 

 mountain gorge, passes into the beautiful vale of Berwickshire^ 

 to meander with crystal placid waters by wooded Edrom, Broom- 

 house, and Allan Bank ; but the sun was declining, and there 

 remained but about an hour to reach our auberge, wherever that 

 might be. Climbing the high ground to the left, we gained a 

 lonely neck or mountain pass, overlooking the vale of the Whit- 

 adder and Tweed ; eastward is Blinkbonny, a farm so named, 

 on which the setting sun fell sweetly, which I had once some 



