THE EISHING GAZETTE 
229 
Apkil 1, 1893] 
CON TE NTS. 
Keminiscences of an Old Angler .229 
Characteristic Norwegian Streams.230 
Dorsetshire ; Its River and Sea Fishing:.232 
Scotch Notes .233 
“ Westward Ho ! ” 233 
A Celebrated Irish Fishing Tackle Manufactory ... 234 
Mr. H. Seton-Karr's Proposed Bill to Amend the 
Salmon Fisheries (Ireland) Acts.235 
Sea Fisheries Regulation Act, 188S.235 
Some Hebridean Spring Quarters .236 
Large-mouth Black Bass in Europe.236 
Notes and Queries .237 
Waltoniana.237 
Correspondence.237 
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SATURDAY, APRIL 1st, 1893, 
REMINISCENCES OF AN OLD 
ANGLER. 
By E. M. Tod. 
I PASS over the happy hours I used to spend 
fishing the “ Pow burn,” for sticklebacks, the 
Edinburgh and Glasgow canal for roach (and, I 
think, bream), Merchiston pond for perch, and 
the Braid burn for trout—for this is a long time 
ago now, forty years at least, nay, it must be 
forty-five since I went for the spiny stickleback, 
with no end of ardour, for I remember it all as 
well as if it had happened a year ago. I had 
fishing in me from the first; and then of course 
how delighted we were when we went to the 
seaside (Trinity and Newhaven) to fish for 
“ podlies ” off the piers, or to go out with old 
riiikker in a boat. 
We did not do much execution I daresay, but 
who can deny the amount of enjoyment which a 
boy gets out of fishing if he is a born fisherman, 
as I was. 
Then, how step by step I advanced ! My burn 
fishing experiences, at Carlops and Niue-Mile 
burn, then the “ Compensation Ponds ” away 
among the Pentland Hills, which hills I had 
looked on from my birth-place, Morningside, 
Edinburgh, for many a year. My journeys by 
rail, to fish the Gala, at Bowland or Stow ; the 
Clyde at Abington or Lamington, the Water of 
Leith, the Almond and Gogar burn, nearer hand 
still—are they not all dear to memory ? Then, 
when I went to reside near Peebles for a time, 
how I fished the Tweed!—Manor water, Eddie- 
stone water, and theLeithen, &c.—and there were 
joys to be found up the hill burns, such as Glen 
Rath, Himdleshope, and Bold, and to this hour 
I enjoy keenly fishing up some lone mountain 
burn, and always shall whilst I can walk and 
creep. 
There is such a sense of infinite enjoyment 
going up such a burn, with a rod of eleven or 
twelve feet and a bag of well-scoured worms, or, 
if the pools are large and open, a cast of flies—and 
the latter is by far the more enjoyable method 
where you have elbow room. The music of the 
burn as it tumbles along, the cry of the moor¬ 
cock, or the note of the cuckoo, alone seem to 
break the silence of nature. 
“ Your (stumbling) footsteps seem too rude. 
So stilly is the solitude .”—Scott (altered). 
If anything ever made me an enthusiast I 
think it must have been the delights of burn 
fishing in my boyhood. A companion here no 
one wants. Each is in the other’s way, and it 
doubles the fatigue to have to pass and re-pass 
your friend, whose trout you are both apt to 
scare in the process; and who could have time 
to feel dull whilst there is a pool left unfished p 
“ Excelsior ” ! ! 
I must tear myself away from my subject, 
and now I take up an old fishing diary, begun 
when I was living on the banks of the Teviot, 
the largest tributary of the Tweed, where I 
first began to tie salmon and trout flies (self- 
taught at first), and where I came across that 
king of anglers, Mark Aitken, fisherman to the 
Marquis of Lothian, who taught me all I know, 
and to whom I am truly grateful, though he is 
but a memory now. The first entry is 1st March, 
1859, and I was then entering my 21st year, and 
could throw a good line, but had got into shock¬ 
ing habits—striking my trout far too hard, and 
using too thick gut; in fact, as old Mark said to 
me afterwards, I was (as a “fisher”) “as coorse as 
heather.” But this is away from niy subject. 
We went out salmon-fishing in the Teviot, at 
Crailing Tofts that opening day, and lauded some 
kelt, and as long as kelts were to be taken we 
fished for them ! The whitlings (i.e., kelted sea- 
trout) are invariably kept, and are not illegal, and 
on a small trout-rod with fine tackle they give a 
fine bit of sport, not unfrequently breaking away 
if the stream is hroad and strong, and they get 
too far away. This is the “B. B. T.,” (the 
sanguinary bull-trout) of our most worthy and 
amusing chaplain of the Fishing Gazette, the 
Rev. Mr. Hevit, which name, by the way, is not 
the one he adopts when preaching to sinners, for 
clearly he cannot regard anglers in that light, 
being one himself, and a chief of anglers. 
I see there is nothing remarkable in my 1859 
record, except that I killed so few trout! 
In 1860, however, I began to warm up, and my 
record is better, though by no means wonderful. 
It is strange with what mixed feelings one 
reads an old diary like mine. At times one feels 
young again and buoyant, and then one comes 
across some entry which reminds one of the fact 
that we have outlived, one by one, many who 
were dear to us in the old days. Still their 
memories remain green ; and we read on. It is 
the same record of a few pounds, from 31b. to 
81b. a day, sometimes less than two; one day 
from the Teviot, another from its tributary the 
Kale, another from the parent river the Tweed. 
On the 5th of May, however, I had a unique 
experience—a day’s fishing for pike and perch on 
Primside Loch, near Yetholrn. Ah! how well I 
remember it all. Our comrade (J.) had got per¬ 
mission from the Duke of Roxburgh, and we 
placed ourselves in the hands of “Will Tait,” 
professional fisherman and fly-dresser, he bring¬ 
ing with him a good supply of live minnows. 
I rode my own little horse, “ Billy ” (a peppery 
little fellow he was, too, and a beggar to shy), 
and J——, P——, and “ Will Tait” went in the 
dog-cart. 
Our journey to the neighbourhood of Yetholrn 
(famous for its gipsy encampment) I remember 
still. Every one was in high spirits, for the loch 
was seldom fished. When we got to the loch we 
found, however, that the duke only owned the 
tail end of it, and this was a dismal swamp, full 
of high reeds. The whole of the rest of the 
property belonged to Mr. Oliver, who also 
possessed the only boat! Our spirits straightway 
went down to zero, but J., who always had lots 
of “ cheek,” volunteered to call at Lochside 
House, and ask Mr. Oliver’s permission. I lent 
him my horse, and away he went, we remaining 
quietly in the dog-cart. He came back in great 
glee, looking full of mischief. He had obtained 
permission to fish for all of us—for one day. 
“What about the boat?” we said. “Oh, Mr. 
Oliver said that it had been lying for a year or 
rnore exposed to the weather, and would leak 
like a sieve, and that we would risk our lives if 
we used it. Upon that,” said J., “ I turned on 
him, saying. If we like to take the risk, may W’e 
use the boat ? and ho said ‘ Certainly; but 1 
don’t advise you to do so.’ ” 
In less time than it takes to write it we had 
the horses and trap put up, went down to 
the boat, and dragged her to the edge of the 
loch. My eye! How she did leak! It seemed 
quite hopeless at first, but by dint of pocket- 
handkerchiefs and newspapers packed into the 
worst places, and one of us told off to bale her 
the whole time, the boat was launched. I don’t 
know whether to laugh or to take another and 
graver view of it now, but a more foolhardy pro¬ 
ceeding I have never been engaged in. We took 
it in turns to fish from the boat, and well do I 
remember how, in a few hours’ spinning towards 
the reeds which fringed the margin of the 
pond, I succeeded in taking six pike and 121b. of 
perch. Altogether we killed half a hundred¬ 
weight of fish, nine pike in all, of which I caught 
six, averaging 31b. each. I think our supply of 
live minnows ran short, and compelled us to give 
up earlier than we would otherwise have done. 
Mr. Oliver, who was somewhat of a cur¬ 
mudgeon, was so disgusted when he found out 
that we had reallg used his boat and killed some 
of his fish, that he met our next request with a 
most emphatic refusal. What a merry crew we 
were as we drove and rode home ! It ^vas rare 
fun. Mind you, I quite think that if the Luke 
(that is, the grandfather to the present Duke of 
Roxburgh), had given us a splendid dry boat, the 
“ well ” full of live bait, and the luncheon-basket 
full of everything good, we would not have 
enjoyed it half so much as sitting in a wet boat, 
having every now and again to run her ashore 
till she was bailed out afresh and the plugs 
renewed. Young fellows will be young, and, 
after all, who will say that the game was not 
worth the candle? It was a most enjoyable day 
to myself, nay, to all of us; and, beyond being 
thoroughly and innocently happy, what is more 
enviable in this our brief life ? It was “ an 
awful lark,” as well as a fair day’s fishing; and, 
as pike and perch were quite out of our line, I 
think the entire chsiuge doubled our enjoyment. 
Proceeding with my diary, I find that I used to 
take the train across to the Tweed at Maxton or 
St. Boswell’s stations, occasionally, with one or 
more of our friends, and, meanwhile, I note some 
very fair baskets of trout taken from the Teviot 
at Crailing and Nisbet. One day, for instance, 
my basket contained, amongst others, three trout, 
averaging more than a pound apiece, then one 
l|lb.; and on the same water to-day I should 
say three such trout are seldom taken, since free 
fishing and poaching have well-nigh ruined that 
lovely stretch of water. Again I find, on June 7, 
1860, that I rode up to Hounam Inn with my old 
friend B. (and with whom I hope to fish the 
Deveron in May this year). We put up our nags 
at the inn, and stayed till the evening of the 8tb, 
fishing the head waters of the Kale and also 
Heatherhope burn. I find I had killed 51b. when 
it came on a terrible thunderstorm, and we were 
glad to seek the shelter of a cottage. Next day 1 
had 91b. of trout, and then we rode home 
together—to Wooden. 
On the 19th, with the same friend, I went to 
Callander, having never been in the Highland.s 
on a fishing trip before. 
We tried Loch Lubnaig for one day, then Loch 
Earn, and, doing but little, went on to Lnib Inn, 
on the Dochart river. Here we fished the two 
small lochs out of which the Dnchart pours— 
Loch Ure and Loch Dochart—and had, on the 
whole, fair sport, though the trout, as a rule, ran 
small. I had two very fair baskets indeed—one a 
remarkably good half day—both which are 
worthy of notice I think. 
On June 25 we fished from the same boat on 
tbe small upper loch (Loch Dochart), and the day 
was remarkable, inasmuch as it poured inces¬ 
santly. Nevertheless, I find the following record 
of sport: B , 9|lb , self, 17^1b., one of them being 
