ROSLIN CASTLE. 11 



dark-green beds of this plant, we now see, puff- 

 ing and belching, steaming railway engines. 

 Continuing our way through Buccleuch Pend, 

 and along by the Meadows and the Sciennes, 

 we pass the Grange Toll, the Pow Burn, and on 

 to Burdiehouse by the Windmill and St Cathe- 

 rines. This burn then ran in many a zigzag 

 course. What beautiful red trout were once its 

 inhabitants ! Where are they now ? Its bed is 

 now cut straight : its waters are gone, and so are 

 they ! 



We got to the Castle, then to the Linn below 

 the paper mill. Some sleech off their hooks at 

 the first throw, and their sport is at an end for the 

 day. I succeed in getting two or three beautiful 

 trouts, of half a pound each ; others get glorious 

 nibbles ; and we trudge into Edinburgh, quite 

 happy with our sportj short as it was, and hungry 

 as hawks. Ah ! how happy is the angler ! as 

 Sir Thomas More says, ( If his sport should fail 

 him, he at the least hath his holsom walk, and, 

 mery at his ease, a swete ayre of the swete savour 

 of the meade of flowers that maketh him hungry: 

 he heareth the melodious harmonie of fowles; 

 he seeth the young swans, herons, ducks, cotes, 

 and many other fowles.' 



