l6 I GO A -FISHING. 



thought very strange were one to say that Wilson would 

 never have been half the man he was were he not an 

 angler. But he would have said so himself, and I am not 

 sure but he did say so, and, whether he did or not, I have 

 no doubt of the truth of the saying. 



It has happened to me to fish the Dochart from the 

 old inn at Luib down to the bridge, and the form of the 

 great Christopher was forever before me along the bank 

 and in the rapids, making his last casts as Mrs. Gordon 

 here so tenderly describes him : 



" Had my father been able to endure the fatigue, we 

 too would have had something to boast of; but he was 

 unable to do more than loiter by the river-side close in 

 the neighborhood of the inn never without his rod. * * * 

 How now do his feet touch the heather ? Not as of old 

 with a bound, but with slow and unsteady step, supported 

 on the one hand by his stick, while the other carries his 

 rod. The breeze gently moves his locks, no longer glit- 

 tering with the light of life, but dimmed by its decay. 

 Yet are his shoulders broad and unbent. The lion-like 

 presence is somewhat softened down, but not gone. He 

 surely will not venture into the deeps of the water, for 

 only one hand is free for ' a cast,' and those large stones, 

 now slippery with moss, are dangerous stumbling-blocks 

 in the way. Besides, he promised his daughters he 

 would not wade, but, on the contrary, walk quietly with 

 them by the river's edge, there gliding ' at its own sweet 

 will.' Silvery bands of pebbled shore leading to loamy- 

 colored pools, dark as the glow of a southern eye, how 

 could he resist the temptation of near approach ? In he 

 goes, up to the ankles, then to the knees, tottering every 

 other step, but never falling. Trout after trout he catch- 

 es, small ones certainly, but plenty of them. Into his 

 pocket with them, all this time manoeuvring in the most 

 skillful manner both stick and rod : until weary, he is 

 obliged to rest on the bank, sitting with his feet in the 

 water, laughing at his daughters' horror, and obstinately 



