OCTOBER 205 



the right bank. The channel is full of great stones, 

 among which the good fish harbour, and approach is 

 made to them by dropping a boat quietly down along 

 the wooded side of the cliff. Here, in the gloaming of 

 a November short day, the laird was angling some 

 years ago, and just as his fly was swinging over the 

 Cradle Rock, the welcome pull came, and he was fast 

 in a fish. 



It was soon apparent that it was a fish of no common 

 size. It sailed about in a very independent way, 

 resisting all persuasion to approach the land. The 

 light was failing ; it would soon be dark ; and additional 

 pressure was put on the fish to bring matters to an 

 issue. This the salmon resented by dropping obstinately 

 down stream, until it was clear of the Haly Wiel 

 altogether, and in the broad, shallow water which 

 intervenes between it and the Monk's Ford. Then 

 matters became livelier. The fish began to run about, 

 got tired, and allowed itself to be towed within reach 

 of the net. For the first time the laird became aware 

 of the monster's dimensions: the net, huge as Tweed 

 landing-nets are, was too small to admit its head and 

 shoulders. Three times the attempt was made, and 

 failed as often. It was dark by this time, and difficult 

 to distinguish shallow water from deep. In short, 

 something went wrong lamentably wrong; a little 

 jerk a feeble wallop in the water and the line 

 dangled limply from the rod, minus the fly. 



'Well,' says the reader, 'where is the horrible part 

 of all this ? Every fisherman has lost the biggest fish 



