A BORDER BOYHOOD 



37 



make. The companions of those times are scattered, 

 and Hve under strange stars and in converse sea- 

 sons, by troutless waters. It is no longer the height 

 of pleasure to be half- drowned in Tweed, or lost 

 on the hills with no luncheon in the basket. But, 

 except for scarcity of fish, the scene is very little 

 altered, and one is a boy again, in heart, beneath 

 the elms of Yair, or by the Gullets at Ashicsteil. 

 However bad the sport, it keeps you young, or 

 makes you young again, and you need not follow 

 Fonce de Leon to the western wilderness, when, in 

 any river you knew of yore, )'0U can find the 

 Fountain of Youth. 



THE GLEDDIS WEIL 



