SUNDAY ON TWEEDSIDE. 



be but a poor flailer of a salmon stream, who did 

 not ingraft on the gentle art a knowledge and love 

 of one or the other of these beautiful studies (ever 

 mindful to look through them up to God). On 

 a lovely Sunday in the month of July, my friend 

 of St John's and I finding ourselves alone 

 together at our quarters on Tweed's beauteous 

 banks, and at a very pastoral part of the river, 

 issued forth to a charming spot where a baronial 

 castle stands on the south side of the stream, 

 faced on the opposite side by the remains of what 

 is said to have been another of those ancient 

 fastnesses, the river running between them. 

 Here also it divides itself, and forms a small 

 island, the south side a fine salmon run, the 

 other a good trout one. The hills on either side 

 rise to a considerable height, and are, on looking 

 upward, surmounted or crested by others still 

 higher, the uncultivated angles of which breathe 

 forth nothing that is exciting, but, on the 

 contrary, a very pleasing repose, 



' The river rushing o'er its pebbled bed, 

 Imposes silence with a stilly sound.' 



Here, on a bank of wild thyme and heather, 



