FISHING ON SALT-WATER LOCHS. 445 



stance, from anxiety to cover the whole burn-mouth, he had 

 miscalculated distance, and the last boat-rope did not reach the 

 land. A few Gaelic grunts from the weaver, when Tom the 

 shepherd, a fine young fellow of six feet two, with legs like 

 stilts, jumps over the boat-side, nearly up to his armpits in 

 water, and by a few sharp jerks gains rope-way enough to 

 reach the shore. There was plenty strength at each rope-end, 

 albeit some soft hands rather retarded than helped the drag. 

 The corks come bobbing merrily in, as the circle narrows. 

 " There's big fish in the net ! " shouts Tom ; " I see'd them 

 brek." " Keep yer hands low, wull ye, and pull up the leeds," 

 growls Sandy. " Be cashus, be cashus," shrieks Shemish, his 

 apathy completely gone ; " the net's full o' them." By a rapid 

 smooth pull the bosom of the net is safely grounded, full of 

 large and small fish, splashing, rattling, and flashing phosphoric 

 light. Besides rock-cod, skate, flounders, and other salt-water 

 fish, there were eighteen sea-trout, some of them four pounds 

 weight. Three more hauls were taken, but less successful. 

 There were, however, from eight to a dozen sea-trout in each. 

 This was only an average night. A week earlier, no less than 

 sixty trout were landed in Garmony Bay at one draught. No 

 salmon were taken the whole season. 



I seldom cared to join this sport myself, but my boys shared 

 both its fatigues and pleasures every time the net was out. 

 Often, as the season advanced, the nights growing darker and 

 the winds higher, we watched for their return till two or three 

 in the morning, and could not forget that on those wild seas 

 and crossing tides many a boat has been watched for that 

 returned no more. 



I have now, I think, given all the necessary instructions in 

 fresh- water and sea-loch fishing; and feel confident that, by 

 following them, the admirer of " flood and fell," even if a be- 

 ginner in angling, may return from his fishing tour, having as 

 often filled his creel from their depths as gratified his taste 

 with their scenery. 



