THE SALMON OF CLOOTIE'S HOLE. 



BY G. W. HARTLEY. 



[MAG A. FEB. 1881.1 



"T'M thinking that we'll do something to-day, 

 J- Johnnie." 

 " I'm thinking that mysel'." 



The first speaker was running a casting-line through 

 the loop of a "Jock Scott," and the second was 

 holding up the heavy rod to which the line was 

 fastened, and watching the process with great in- 

 terest. He was a very big man, with extremely long 

 legs, dressed in old Harris tweeds. What elegance 

 of form there might have been about the other was 

 effectually concealed by his waders and little Mackin- 

 tosh cape. Most people would have thought the 

 outlook as well as the day rather dreary. It was 

 well on in the year. Autumn had put her brilliant 

 colours on the trees which lined the river's banks ; 

 indeed a good many leaves, sycamore and birch 

 especially, had already fallen, and were floating limp 

 and flat down the stream. It looked as if it was 



