82 TWEEDSIDE. 



ower them.' See, they have drawn a large one 

 out of the stream, with the rake hooks, while one 

 below is killing another ; this is in the fair light 

 of day, and in defiance of all law and Tweed 

 Acts. October and November are, no doubt, the 

 most uncertain season for fishing salmon, on ac- 

 count of frost and wind, accompanied with fal- 

 len leaves ; it was seldom that in the three weeks 

 from the close of the nets, we ever got what 

 might be called a good day's sport at this 

 time of the year. 



I will only conclude this short and imperfect 

 sketch of doings on the Tweed, by quoting a 

 few words from the letter of a friend whom 

 I requested to write me, as I left it at the close 

 of 1848: 'From the day you left to the end of 

 the rod fishing, 7th November, there were no fish 

 taken in this quarter but by the spear or burning 

 the water; I am sorry to say it was about as 

 poor a finish as mortal man could conceive.' 



For these twenty years and more the fishing 

 in the upper waters of Tweed has been falling 

 off ; and I would caution any angler, in coming 

 so far up, from expecting anything like sport. 

 It is too far from the sea, the fish are not in 

 season, and, for the most part, blackish at this 



