At all events my friend C. and myself were anglers not to be satisfied with a rise or a nibble; we liked to fill our baskets, and we seldom failed of doing so. Many a morning, in the hottest part of summer, might we have been seen, at sun-rise, ascending Tweed's silver stream, and casting from the middle of the river our ground-bait before us, with success never to be forgotten. Our amusement lasted till about eight or nine o'clock, when the water either became too illumined for our sport, or the trout, having finished their breakfast, gave us a hint to think of our own. The best fly-fishing in the Tweed is about the middle or the latter end of May, when, on favourable days and hours, the water seems alive with the finny multitude, and the experienced fly-fisher may amuse himself to his heart's content. Earlier than this the tributary streams will not have poured in their full supplies. Not but that Father Tweed has a progeny of his own; for Mr. Fenwick, my very skilful and intelligent preceptor in the art of Tweed-fishing, informed me that, at an earlier season of the year, trouling with a par-tail, the inferior half, that is, of the little fish of which I have already spoken, is an admirable mode of fishing, sure sport and large fish; and although I was too late to enjoy it in perfection, I had experience enough of this spirited mode of angling to credit all he said in its praise. I had no opportunity of trying minnows as a bait, never having been able to procure them when wanted, which is when the water, subsiding after heavy rain, is getting to be of a porter colour. We had always, however, a supply of tough earth

worms (for such only will bear the strong current and rough bottom of the Tweed), which we procured, of the best quality, and at little expense, from a dealer at Edinburgh, and preserved in jars filled with damp moss frequently renewed. These ensured us good sport in the above state of the river; but, I believe, that with minnows, we should have caught an assortment of larger and choicer fish, for there appeared to be as many varieties of trout as there were tributary streams. I recollect catching one which bore on one side of it the exact impression of the substances against which it had lain in its winter retreat; thus affording evident proof that it must have remained a considerable time in a fixed position and place.

The flies we used were of the simplest kind, and were made by ourselves of feathers from the wings, chiefly of woodcocks, grouse, starlings, and larks, with the addition of a little appropriate dubbing. Early in the season, when the river was full and not over clear, the grouse wings furnished us with our best materials, and we found it by no means difficult to adapt the size and hue of the flies, according to the force and colour of the stream, to the sight and taste of our customers. The great secret in Tweedfishing, I might say in all fishing, but in the ever-varying Tweed especially, consists in using the right bait at the right time. I have heard Mr. Fenwick say, that early in the year, when, with the par-tail, he has loaded himself with fish, he has often met a forlorn Angler who had been unable to get a single trout to rise at his fly. Yet this mode of fishing (namely, with the par-tail,) appeared to be

by no means common. I had sprained my ancle; and to give it rest, was sitting alone in the little parlour of our Inn, when a handsome coach-and-four drove up, to my no small surprise, and stopped to bait the horses. Seeing a single gentleman in it I invited him to alight and partake of some refreshment which then happened to be on the table. This he readily did, and we were soon engaged in active conversation on the subject of fishing, he being a professed angler, and moreover the intimate friend of " a Mr. Scott," whom I mentioned as being with us. He had never seen the trouling tackle adapted to the par-tail, which Mr. Fenwick had taught us to prepare, and was so much pleased with it, that I made him a present of some as a pattern, which he gladly accepted.

The gentleman in question proved to be the well-known Lord Somerville. My short interview with this accomplished nobleman was most agreeable. I subsequently traced him in his intercourse with the agricultural world, but I never again had the pleasure of seeing him; and he has long since departed from this earthly scene. So has Scott! So has Collins! How grateful ought I to be for my prolonged and happy life! How sensible of the mercy of that dispensation of Providence which enables us to associate, with the memory and warning of departed friends, the most pleasing recollections, and teaches us, in fact, that, whilst time is ever on the wing, the uncertainty of life, by keeping out of sight the day of our own departure, serves but to put us on our guard, without disqualifying us for the enjoyment of the passing hour. Here,

also, I cannot help remarking, that courtesy, like honesty, is good policy, and none will find it more so than travellers. Had Collins and myself been otherwise than accommodating, we should have lost the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with one of the greatest men of our day; and the very trifling attention paid by me to Lord Somerville would have procured for us, as we subsequently understood, many welcome attentions, had we remained a longer time at the Tweed; his Lordship's residence being sufficiently near to have admitted of it. Indeed, the above maxim cannot be too strongly impressed upon Englishmen in their travels, their cautious and distant manners being known, not unfrequently, to lead them into the opposite extreme. I shall, therefore, interrupt my narration to mention what once occurred to me at Paris. My friend P— and myself were at the door of the "Couvent des petits Augustins," where a vast number of interesting, but scattered monuments, preserved from the ravages of the Revolution, had been collected and arranged, and were purchasing a catalogue raisonné of their treasures, when two ladies, with a liveried footman in attendance, approached, and were evidently at a loss for the few franks required in payment for a similar catalogue. Seeing their dilemma, I stepped forward, and, presenting at the same time my card, offered to pay the required sum, which was readily accepted; and we together viewed the contents of the convent. The following day there came a laced valet to our hotel with a small packet, having a magnificent seal on it, with arms indicative of princely rank, addressed to me..

I did not at the moment recollect the little adventure of the preceding day, and proceeded to investigate the arcana of the billet with no small curiosity, when I found my debt repaid, and a most polite invitation to my friend and myself, from the Margravine of Anspach, to her evening parties, mentioning on what evenings she was at home. I was then on the eve of departure from Paris, and therefore never waited on her Highness there; but a year or two afterwards she renewed her civilities, by sending me an invitation, through my cousin, the lady of the late General Hughes, to attend her private theatricals at Wanstead House, which I once did, in company with Mrs. Hughes.

These are very trifling anecdotes, it must be confessed; but they may serve to point a moral, without making pretensions to adorn a tale. The last, however, has drawn me further than I intended, from my tale of Tweedside, with which I will now proceed.

I have no doubt of Mr. Fenwick's being right in saying that, early in the season, the par-tail is a most certain and deadly bait. But to ensure its success, it is necessary to be acquainted with the different fords, and best and safest reaches of the Tweed, for you must be prepared to dash into the middle of the stream, taking care to be well and roughly shod; and then, wading with the current up to, and sometimes even above, your middle, you have to cast your bait at some distance before you, and spin it from side to side. Fish, from one to two pounds, will soon be in action and strike boldly; and, if your tackle be of the best description, none need escape,