130 ANGLING SKETCHES 



old thorn-trees, remnants of the forest. It is all 

 homeh' and all haunted, and, if a T\veedside fisher 

 might have his desire, he would sleep the long 

 sleep in the little churchyard that lies lonel_\- 

 above the pool of Caddon-foot, and hard b)' 

 Christopher North's favourite quarters at Cloven- 

 fords. 



Ho\\'ever, while we are still on earth, Caddon- 

 foot is more attractive for her long sweep of 

 salmon-pool — the home of sea-trout too — than 

 precisely for her kirk-\-ard. There will be time 

 enough for that, and time it is to recur to the 

 sad stor}- of the big fish and the careless angler. 

 It \vas about the first da}' of October, and we 

 had enjoyed a 'spate.' Salmon-fishing is a mere 

 child of the weather ; with rain almost an\-body 

 may raise fish, without it all art is apt to be vain. 

 \A'e had been blessed with a spate. On Wednes- 

 day the Tweed had been roaring red from bank 

 to bank. Salmon-fishing was wholl\- out of the 

 question, and it is to be feared that the innumer- 

 able trout-fishers, bus_\' on evcr\- edd}-, were bait- 

 ing \\-ith salmon roe, an illegal lure. On Thursda}- 



