To Mountain Tarn 



and the bank bends away is a strip of trees. The 

 wood may be the remnant of far-spreading hazels 

 of long ago. Very like. It gives the name to 

 the passing water. 



Less than half a mile down is "the boat-pool." 

 No boat is there now, nor is any tale of a boat. 

 The name alone lingers to tell of what was, and 

 will remain as long as the stream flows. As 

 they have received it, so will anglers and children 

 hand it down. The dwellers in the little hamlet 

 on the broad haugh must have crossed, generation 

 after generation, time out of mind. Then the 

 bridge was built a little further down. Bridge 

 and pool tell the story. 



Among the trees on the far side is Traquair. 

 When the Scottish sovereigns lived mainly on 

 the border, this was their chief residence ; part of 

 the still older castle is said to be built in with the 

 old house. They hunted here. It was a rich, 

 full, cheery place. Game abounded, of which 

 the scene knows nothing now. Six hundred head 

 were killed on one day. 



Tweed boasted three mighty tenants in the 

 persons of a fish, a rodent, and a carnivore. It 

 must have been a drama of no common interest 

 when the autumn-ascending fish of the virgin 

 stream splashed over the beaver embankment, 

 while the otter swam, back and fore, along the 

 upper side in wait. Or when the carnivore, on 

 his way up from the fishing-ground in the early 



109 



