SALMON FISHIIirG IN ENGLAND 



III 



' There's no a hole aboon the Crook, 



Nor stane nor gurly swirl aneath. 

 Nor drumlie liU, nor faery brook 



That daunders through the flow'ry heath, 

 But ye may fin' a kittle troot, 



A' gleamin' ower we' stam and bead ; 

 An' mony a sawmont sooms aboot 



Below the bields o' bonnie Tweed. 



IV 



' EVae Holylee to Clovenford, 



A chancier bit ye canna ha'e ; 

 Sae gin ye tak' an angler's word, 



Ye'll through the whuns an' ower the brae, 

 An' work awa wi' cunnin' hand 



Yer birzy heckles, black and reid ; 

 The saft sough o' a slender wand 



Is meetest music for the Tweed ! 



' the Tweed ! the bonnie Tweed ! 

 O' rivers it's the best ; 

 Angle here, or angle there, 



Troots are sooming everyTvhere, 

 Angle east or west.' 



'Thomas Tod Stoddart.' 



In some way I had pictured in my mind a large river, but 

 here was a little stream, completely across which I think I could 

 cast a fly. There was a gentle slope down to it, and its rippling 

 waters ran smoothly and quietly along through one of the most 

 beautiful parts of Scotland and a region of great historic interest. 

 There was a well-worn path, along the edge, and from here I 

 watched my friend Annan cast with the fine long rod of his 

 fathers, and under his tutelage I crudely and clumsily cast my 

 first salmon fly ; something to remember all one's life, a memory 

 to file away in the confines of the imagination, to be taken out 

 again and again. 



The salmon angler has many casts, the Spey among others, 



II 



