A MIDNIGHT KETTLE ON THE TWEED. 63 



monly clear and bright, and the water very low after a 

 long drought, so that my chance of sport was only a 

 degree or two above zero. After fishing nearly all day 

 without a single rise, Willie Scott, the obliging farmer 

 of the fishery, invited me to join him in the evening, 

 while his men drew the water with the nets ; and bait- 

 ing his invitation with the promise of a grilse, I readily 

 acceded, and repaired to the river-side at the appointed 

 time. Shortly after my arrival the fishermen commenced 

 operations, but Mrs. Glass's wholesome advice "First 

 catch your hare, then skin it" constantly occurred to me, 

 as they netted more than two miles of water before 

 anything was met with. When, however, they were 

 just about to cease from their labours in despair, the last 

 sweep of the net brought to land a solitary seven-pound 

 grilse. Willie tapped this lucky but truly odd fish upon 

 the head, and immediately transferred him into a kettle 

 of boiling salt water. We then adjourned to the 'bothy, 

 which was situated close to the river-bank, and there, by 

 the roaring fire over which the fish-kettle was suspended, 

 we seated ourselves in happy contentment. Once the 

 fish was pronounced sufficiently cooked, it was appor- 

 tioned out in shares to each member of the company, 

 together with bread and real Tweed sauce the salt 

 water in which it was boiled ; and I need hardly say we 

 found it deliciously crisp and full of firm curd, very un- 

 like the miserable apology for fresh salmon we are 

 accustomed to get in inland towns. 



Our worthy entertainer then intimated that he had 

 prepared a farther treat for us, in the shape of midnight 



