270 AUTUMN ON THE TWEED 



The light was far gone now ; the fisher had neither 

 net nor gaff the latter being tabu on the Tweed after 

 the netting season. It was a tedious process to tow 

 such a heavy salmon aground. As often as he felt the 

 gravel, a sweep of broad tail launched him into the 

 deep again, and the work had to be done over again. 

 At last he lay on his broadside, glimmering 'like a 

 great soo' in the twilight. Lucky for my friend that 

 he had a grip like a vice ; it required it all to hold on 

 to the thick 'small' of that tail to draw his quarry 

 ashore, and to carry him up the wooded bank, never 

 more to steer a course beneath the ocean billows or 

 stem the streams of Tweed. Forty-two pounds honest 

 avoirdupois! Single gut, Limerick steel, and skilful 

 handling had won a memorable victory. 



A single lifetime cannot compass many triumphs 

 such as this ; but there are other episodes over which a 

 man delights to brood when his rod is on the rack and 

 his feet on the fender. Much of the Tweed fishing is a 

 trifle tame ; the size of the stream demands the use of 

 a boat in most places ; and the ' dubs ' those long, deep 

 slow reaches where big autumn fish are most likely to 

 be met necessitate a peculiar style of fishing which 

 is irksome to men accustomed to brisker streams. 

 Nevertheless there is one bit of really wild water on 

 the Tweed that between Old Melrose and Bemersyde 

 which it would be hard to beat on any river. After 

 lingering lovingly under the leafy heights of Gladswood, 

 and creeping slowly through salmon-haunted Cromwell, 

 the river wakes up to the necessity of a rough and rapid 



