CHRISTOPHER IN HIS SPORTING JACKET 



seek its very course where she was spawned ! She still 

 swims swift, and strong, and deep — and the line goes 

 steady, boys, steady — stiff and steady as a Tory in 

 the roar of Opposition. There is yet an hour's play in 

 her dorsal fin — danger in the flap of her tail — and 

 yet may her silver shoulder shatter the gut against a 

 rock. Why, the river was yesterday in spate, and she 

 is fresh run from the sea. All the lesser waterfalls are 

 now level with the flood, and she meets with no 

 impediment or obstruction — the course is clear — no 

 tree-roots here — no floating branches — for during the 

 night they have all been swept down to the salt loch. 

 In medio tutissimas ibis — ay, now you feel she begins 

 to fail — the butt tells now every time you deliver 

 your right. What ! another mad leap ! yet another sul- 

 len plunge! She seems absolutely to have discovered, 

 or rather to be an impersonation of, the Perpetual 

 Motion. Stand back out of the way, you son of a sea- 

 cook! — you in the tattered blue breeches, with the tail 

 of your shirt hanging out. Who the devil sent you all 

 here, ye vagabonds.'^ — Ha! Watty Ritchie, my man, 

 is that you.^ God bless your honest laughing phiz! 

 What, Watty, would you think of a Fish like that 

 about Peebles? Tam Grieve never gruppit sae heavy 

 a ane since first he belanged to the Council. — Curse 

 that colley! Ay! well done, Watty! Stone him to 

 Stobbo. Confound these stirks — if that white one, 



[9] 



