i 
THE FISHING GAZETTE 
349 
KEMINISCENCES OF AN OLD 
ANGLER. 
(Continued from page 230.) 
Br E. M. Tod. 
my last “ paper ” I remarked that I per¬ 
sonally had never secured the average baskets 
which seemed to have been the lot of many other 
writers on angling. I wish to add that this was 
said sincerely—humbly, if you like—but not ill- 
naturedly. Well, I remember for years after I read 
“ Stewart’s Practical Angler,” thinking what a 
duffer I must be after all, for here was Stewart 
in his first edition stating that “he has not 
attained mastery in the art who cannot average 
121b. of trout daily,” &c., and in the hard fished 
streams in the south of Scotland, too! Where 
have I seen an average of the half in the season 
fishing daily ? It is true that in later years the 
truth gradually dawned on me, that Mr. Stewart’s 
day was not like my own, six hours—sometimes 
seven or eight—but as an Aberdonian “ keeper ” 
quaintly said, “ Oh, I ken Mr. Stewart’s day. It 
is twenty-fower hoors o’ creepin’ an’ crawlin’! ” 
I now take up my old diary at the tail end of 
March, 1861. I had returned to Tweed and 
Teviot side for a short spell, but evidently did not 
set the Thames on fire, and had then gone back 
to Edinburgh. On the 20th of May I came and 
took lodgings at a very small inn, at Maxton, on 
the Tweed. I found the river down to summer 
level, and full of trailing green weeds, hot sun, 
and everything against fly-fishing. On the 23rd 
I had wandered on doing nothing till some 
trout rose at the far side, and I began to pick up 
some fine fish, using very small flies. I find 
that I had 121b. of trout, and that they were 
good sized fish, for eleven of the best weighed 
8jlb. I met Honeyman and Slater, who had 
been looking after their salmon boats—putting 
them away for a time—and they said that no one 
had made such a basket on the river for a long 
time past. On the 24th I had 4|lb., and on the 
25th 1 killed a clean salmon of 61b. on my trout 
rod, slightly brown with lying on the water, 
which I sent to Slater, who was surprised and 
delighted, as salmon fishing was out of the ques¬ 
tion. Then came three blazing hot days, and fly 
was all up a tree, so I sent to worthy Mrs. Hogg, 
of Edinburgh (now only a memory), and had a 
supply of worms sent by train, and on the 27th 
I fished up stream with clear water worm, from 
7.30 to 1 o’clock, when suddenly the trout 
refused to take. Possibly some good worm fisher 
had started where I left off, which would fully 
account for it. It was most remarkable ! Just as 
if a magician’s wand had been waved across the 
river, and yet, ten minutes before at the last 
stream, I was killing trout well. The heat, for 
May, was so terrific? that I turned home, and 
weighed my creel, which I found contained (nett) 
181b. of trout, the largest being 251 b. 
Next day I had 61b., two of them, with fly, lib. 
each, and only fished from 12 to 4 o’clock, and a 
couple of hours in the evening. 
Next day 41b., one being iflb. My old friend 
N. D. completely beat me that day, and got 101b. 
Our old master, Mark Aitken, was with us, and 
he was invariably head of the poll, yet he was 
completely beaten. Such are the chances in a 
river so hard fished as the Tweed. You follow 
several early birds, who have been at it from 
dawn with all kinds of lures, and you wonder why 
trout won’t feed. Your comrade just happens to 
go where the water has not been ’ disturbed that 
day, and of course he has a better chance of a 
good basket. N. D., I may add, was a “nailer,” 
and hard to beat, but neither of us ever thought 
we were equal to old “Mark,” who was the best 
fisherman all round for trout and salmon I ever 
met. _ N. D. still lives on Teviot side, but has all 
but given up fishing, to my honest regret. 
In June I had some decent days, but nothing 
worth recording, on the Tweed. Several times 
21b. or 31b., and I could not kill more, maia cela 
va sans dire. On the 29th I fished with two 
friends. S. had 21b., M. Hb., and I 5|lb.; my 
three best trout, lilb., Hb. 2oz., and :jlb. The 
river was a light porter colour and sun bright, 
not favourable conditions for clear water worm 
as a rule on the Tweed. 
On the 14th of October I was back on the 
Teviot^ and killed a sea-trout, 91b., with salmon 
fly, and on the 22nd I killed a small grilse, J^lb., 
with sarne lure, and this ended by season in 1861. 
In 1862 I was again at Maxton, on the 3’weed, 
and on the 14th of May, and on the Lower 
Mertoun water, “ the Tower water,” my very first 
trout with clear water worm was 2lb. 4oz. I 
then put on the fly, and got in all 71b., one 
11b. 3oz. Next day Mark Aitken joined me, and 
we did as usual our best. He had only 2|lb. for 
the day, and I 3Ib. Then my old friend and 
school companion, Peter Bell, fished on the lOch. 
Besult, Bell 451 b., myself Sj-lb., one 11b. ^oz. 
22nd, on the Teviot, two trout with fly, l^lb. and 
|lb. each; 23rd, 41b. from the Oxnam, a small 
tributary of the Teviot; 25th, Teviot, 4flb.; 27ch, 
4Jlb. (two Hb. each). 
I went on a visit to my old school-fellow, Peter 
Bell, who had rented the salmon fishing and 
partridge shooting of “ St. Boswell’s Bank,” and 
who insisted on my coming to visit him for ten 
days or so, “ for auld lang syne.” This was about 
the very end of May. 
Now the 2nd of J une gave us both pleasure, for 
Bell killed a bright clean salmon, with salmon fly. 
of 71b. 
In the evening I strolled out with my old 
Forrest lift, rod, to have a little fly-fishing. I 
did not expect to do much, and I had no landing 
net or attendant. I only caught one trout. 
When I arrived at St. Boswell’s Bank, Bell met 
me at the door with “ Why man, we have all been 
keeping supper waiting for you.” “ Forgive me,” 
I said, “ but I had to go to the village to get my 
basket weighed, or rather my trout, for 1 have 
only owe. Bell, but he is not a bad sort to be taken 
on fine gut, unaided, with a small fly. Here is my 
excuse!” and I lugged out my fish. Poor Bell, 
who had a generous nature, replied, “ I forgive 
you! ” and never stopped till he had laid my trout 
on the drawing-room carpet (yes! and no one 
shrieked, “ Take it off the carpet!”). “Mother,” 
he said, “ Look at that ! ” Well, it was a lovely male 
trout, olb. loz. in weight. Such fish are very 
seldom taken with artificial fly on the Tweed, 
they have been far too often pricked, and ■ even 
hooked ! Natural lures, minnow, worm, creeper, 
and May-fly, i.e. Stone-fly, generally account for 
them, and even the salmon fly. I once told the 
whole story in the Fishing Gazette, “ How I Won 
a Fiver,” and so I feel bound not to waste space in 
fighting my battles o’er again. Enough to add, 
I never had a more magnificent run 
in my life, which is saying something. 
I hooked him standing well back on 
the gravel, in water barely deep enough to cover 
him, and in no time he was in an eddy behind a 
cairn at the opposite side, I having to wade in as 
deep as I could to prevent losing him, and then 
he dived, and came straight at me, and I had to 
run back and away up on the opposite bank as 
far as I could get, as my small reel was wholly 
incapable of winding in line quick enough; and 
then the agony of the last moments as he lay in 
shallow water gasping, and how I dashed in and 
got my fingers into his gills, and came out 
feeling as if I had done that which never in this 
life would be repeated by me on Tweedside. I 
have the very fly still in my diary, and the 
account of the capture cut out of the Kelso Mail, 
which ends thus: 
“ The fish ran magnificently, taking out all the 
reel line (about 35 yards) at the first rush. 
The trout was caught on a small fly, and the 
casting line was also very fine. The size of the 
fish (51b. loz.) was considered as something ex¬ 
traordinary, and the mode of capture, considering 
the fineness of the tackle, is looked upon as an 
angling feat worthy of being rescued from 
oblivion.” 
_ The last touch is truly that of the “penny-a- 
liner,” but “’Twas a famous victory!” I only 
stayed till the 5th, and have not much to 
chronicle—two of 11b. each, and a few others of 
usual size. 
On the 17th of June, however, I was back at 
Luib, Perthshire, with my friend B. Alas ! things 
were wholly changed. When we were last there 
big rains had risen the volume of water in the 
small lochs, Ure and Dochart, and gave us sport 
with the ordinary-sized loch flies, of which we 
had brought a stock. In consequence of the 
drought I had to sit down every evening and 
dress flies sufficient for both, for the following 
day, much smaller than the previous year, in fact, 
river size. Sport declined: 41b., 51b., and 6Hbi 
Then, on the 21st, 1 had 8Jlb., one of them with 
fly being 2jlb.; then ll.Jlb., lylb., 6:j-lb., and, one 
day, 21b.! 
Disgusted, we drove to Dalmally, Loch Awe, 
and stayed three days. First day we fished a 
^“ tarn ” and did very little. On July 1st 
we fished the loch and river. I got 31b., one l|lb., 
^*th %’ and putting on a Phantom killed a pike 
of 61b. Next day did very little good, but after¬ 
wards learned that the pike had killed down most 
of the trout close to Kilchurn Castle, Dalmally. 
In September I was on the Tweed again. The 
river was low, and the grilse were to be seen 
rising in the clear water, like trout, every evening, 
but who could catch them? One day David 
Johnstone (now between 70 and 80 years of 
age), then reckoned to he one of the best salmon 
fishermen who ever wetted a line on the Tweed, 
came down to try and get a grilse for his em¬ 
ployer, who, I think, was then the late Admiral 
Cator, who rented the Dryburgh water. I 
wanted the fun of it, and though I had free fish- 
ing for trout, had no right to fish for salmon or 
grilse. 
However, I knew “ David,” and, what was more 
to the purpose, he knew me, and he agreed to let 
me fish the water behind him, I, of course, to give 
up any grilse I should catch, to him. 
I had seen his flies, and how fine they were, his 
rod—a two-handed trout rod—and so forth. So 
I sat down and began by stripping a loch fly, then, 
tying it on a loop of salmon gut, I dressed a very 
simple fly. Woodcock wings, bodj-, blue wool at 
back, orange in front, the whole ribbed with 
yellow purse silk in place of tinsel, and a coeka- 
bondhu hackle. Pish were so awfully shy that I 
avoided tinsel purposely. 
I waited till Johnstone had fished several fine 
rough streams, and when he came back to me I 
showed him my fly. He said it “ lookit verra 
likely,” and waded in beside me as I started to 
fish the Gullet stream. He had done nothing 
whatever—never had a rise. Coming over the 
same water with my own fly I killed two grilse, 
21b. and 41b., and rose other two or three, to 
his astonishment. I was “ a prood man ” to do 
that after such a “ hand ” as “ old David,” and no 
doubt the Admiral enjoyed the two grilse ! Such 
are our triumphs as anglers. It is under adverse 
circumstances that we truly know what it is to 
win “ the blue ribbon.” 
One so often comes off with “the leather 
medal ” (i.e. bottom of the form.) On October 
10th, when lodging with Honeyman, fisherman 
(at St. Boswell’s), I had a little fishing with my 
friend Peter Bell at Maxton. The river was low 
and weather bright, early morning and evening 
were our only chance of success, as during the 
day the sun was pitiless. I ran and lost a big fish, 
but I got two grilse 31b. each, and a sea-trout 
8|lb. 
On the 11th I killed a grilse, 311b., in the “ Long 
stream,” and I noted “ water very low.” 
November 3rd was a day to be remembered by 
me. The river had been full and dirty, and fish 
travelling inward and upwards for two weeks or 
so. Every salmon fisherman knows it too well; 
just as the river would be getting into trim, a 
fresh shower at the source would raise it a few 
inches, perhaps half a foot, and fish kept on 
travelling. The evening before I had dressed 
Bell a fly—of my own invention—for the river 
was falling in, a full whey-coloured water. 
I remember it somewhat resembled a “Jock 
Scott ” (a man I have often seen, and the inventor 
of that famous fly), and contained a goodly 
aruount of the double white top turkey in the 
mixed wing. In the very first pool up he came, 
and missed, grandly, to my friend Bell’s fishing, 
for I was in my usual garments, intending to go 
to Edinburgh early in the day, and no gaff was 
allowed in November, and we had no landing 
net, as Bell told me he expected no sport what¬ 
ever. 
He was mistaken, for he rose and hooked 
no less than thirteen salmon, and what grand 
runs they gave as they tore through the rapid 
flooded water, breaking the line, or getting rid 
of the fly generally, for he could not follow, and 
the best water was on the very edge of some of 
the most rapid water on the Tweed, the fish 
taking mostly close to the side. However, he 
did not do badly, for I find his bag consisted of 
four fish, 1541 b., 1641b., 1941b., and 2141b. each. 
He got “ blown,” and insisted on my taking his 
