250 ANGLING LITERATURE 



Shep. Was ye dreamin', sir, o } bein' hanged ? 



Tickler, (vrithin the shed.) What have you been about 

 with yourself all day, ray dear James ? 



Shep. No rnuckle. I left Altrive after breakfast 

 about nine and the Douglass Burn lookin' sae temp tin', 

 I tried it wi j the black gnat, and sune creel'd some foure 

 or five dizzin the maist o' them sma* few exceedin' a 

 pund. 



Tickler. Hem. 



Shep. I fear, sir, you've gotten a sair thrott. Ane sune 

 tires o' trooting at ma time o' life, sae I then put on a 

 sawmon flee, and without any howp daunered doon to a 

 favourite cast on the Yarrow. Sometimes a body may 

 keep threshin' the water for a week without seem' a snout 

 and sometimes a body hyeucks a fish at the very first 

 thraw, and sae it happened wi' me though I can gie 

 mysel' nae credit for skill for I was just watten my flee 

 near the edge, when a new-run fish, strong as a white 

 horse, rushed at, and then oot o' the water wi } a spang 

 higher than my head, 



" My heart to my moooth gied a sten'," 

 and he had amaist rugged the rod oot my nieve ; but I 

 sune recovered my presence o' mind, and after indulgin' 

 his royal highness in a few plunges, I gied him the butt, 

 and for a quarter o' an hour keep't his nose to the grun- 

 stane. Its a sair pity to see a sawmon sulky, and I thocht 

 and nae doubt sae did lie that he had taen up his 

 lodgings at the bottom o' a pool for the nicht, though 



