chap, had mounted an old green cut-away coat, the reversion of which he had probably had from his father, and which in front shone in all the magnificence of large brass buttons, whilst taken in the rear it was but a beggarly looking garment, being split up the back, and from the length gave him the look of a tall man cut short off by the knees. Another of the party, commonly called Jock of the Mill, a great “yald fellow of six feet, had screwed himself into a lad's jacket, which every moment seemed likely to become a second edition of Jamie Craig's coat, as his broad shoulders seemed bursting the cloth.

The toddy being finished we adjourned to the stable where the prepared "lichts" were stored away. There are two kinds of lights made use of, viz., one of bass matting smeared with tar and grease, a piece of which is stuck upon a sort of pitchfork, and when held over the water, getting an occasional shake and turn in the breeze, shows the stream very distinctly; the other is composed of faggots of wood, generally roots of larch fir well tarred, mixed with greasy refuse of wool from the factories, and this is put into a thing called a "crusy (query "cruise), which I cannot better describe than by desiring the reader to picture to himself a skeleton pot stuck in the end of a long pole, which generally has a bend in it, for enabling the torch bearer to walk on the bank with the light overhanging the water. On the present occasion we had two sacksful of pieces of bass matting well tarred, the carrying of which occupied two of our party; another had an empty sack for the fish; another was to be torch bearer; and there were two with leisters.

As a leister, though a common enough affair on the borders, has not been seen by any one south of Tweed, I'll try and give you an idea of it. You've seen a "graip," or potato spade? Well, take the "graip" as your model, imagining four spikes instead of three, with barbs on each, and a stout ashen handle twelve feet long, and there you have a leister as manufactured by the Tweedside blacksmiths.

"Now lads, if ye're a' richt, lets tak' the gate, we sude be at the water side ee'noo; come awa', Maister Harry, I maun tak' ye in hand mysel, for your'e born to hae a gude kipper the nicht o' yer ain strickin, to send to some o' the bonnie lasses ye ken in Embragh. Ye'll see thir chaps stick twae or three first, and then I'll gie ye the leister, and ye maun try yer ain han'. Dinna mind getting duck it a bit; but I needna say that, for ye never was feared for wetting yersel when I gaed wi' ye to the fishing; but then ye ken there's an unco differ ee'noo, for the water's gey cold at nicht. Ye'll just hae to drink the mair whisky to keep a' richt."

We had been walking through a plantation close by the village, from which we now emerged upon the turnpike road; upon which we walked quickly forward until we had got to some distance from the village, and out of the way of meeting stragglers, except perhaps a party bent on a similar expedition to our own.

I should perhaps before have more particularly explained the reason of the blackened faces, and all this mystery about the affair, for the information of our sporting readers. Every one knows that there are certain seasons of the year in which it is necessary to forbid the killing of salmon, in order that they may spawn in security and perpetuate the

"Yald"- Anglicè, stout, strong.

breed, which would otherwise run great risk of extermination. At the spawning season the fish come from the sea up the rivers, where they deposit their ova; and they are then in a "foul state, as it is called, that is, they are generally at that time thin and in bad condition, unfit for eating, although if a fish be killed just arrived from the sea "clean run," and before the breeding process has been commenced, they are good enough to eat. According to law, no fishing is allowed on Tweed between the 7th November and 15th February, or, as it is technically called, "close time;" and this is the only time that salmon in any number are able to get so far up the river as the inland village which I have been alluding to, and consequently, though against the law, the habit of fishing for them by leistering is universal. It is attempted to protect the water by keepers; but in spite of everything, vast numbers of fish are destroyed, and it is lest any chance should bring a keeper or informer in the way that the precautions I have mentioned of black faces and changing clothes are taken.

Andy had explained to me that we were to go about three miles down the river to some 66 streams "where we were likely to have sport, and then return, trying all the likely places on our way home, for it is only in particular localities it is thought worth wasting lights "looking the water." All the fishers are well acquainted with these haunts of the salmon, and when they have "burnt one stream pass directly on to the

next.

"Has there been any good fishing as yet, Andy?"

"Troth no, sir-no vera muckle. A wheen o' the chaps hae been at it, but there haena been ony gude fish in the water yet, they hae had nae chance to win up till the noo; but after the rain and the flood in Tweed, there'll be some gude anes the nicht, a'm thinking. I stickit the biggest ane o'any this nicht week mysel; it was doun by at the Purlin stream;' I seed him lying far out in the water, and banged in on him and had my leister intill him in a crack; but he was the muckle strong thief, and I could na turn him, and sae I goed through wi' him to the ither side, though Tweed was gey and big, amaist up to my shouthers, and betwixt that and the beast prim and fecttin', the legs aye gaed frae me, and I got mortally duckit as I wan out wi' him, and after a' he near win' awa.

"The deuce he did!" said I, smiling inwardly at Andy's account of his duckin."

"This was how it was-Jamie aye cried to me I maun come through to thim again to help awa wi' the fish, for we was short-handed ye ken, and they were cumin' across Tweed at any rate to lesh twae streams on that side; sae I just gied the fish a bit kick or twae on the head, and left him wi' the leister stickin' through him on the bank, four or five yards frae the water; and when we a' wan back and came to look for him, we faud the deevil had wriggled hissel in again, leister and a', and if we had been just twae minutes langer, feint hae the bit o' him we wud ever seen, or o' my gude leister either I think; but by gude luck, whar he went in was kind o' ebb, and kippit the shank of the leister; but he wud walloped it and hissel down till Berwick if he hadna been seen when he was.

Well you deserved your fish, Andy, after such hard work; but you dont often get into deep water, do you?"

"Oh na, its no to say deep; but in whiles fa' on a stane, or knock ane anither doun rinnin' after the fish. I mind a gentleman that used to cum out with us one season to see the fishing, was an awfu' fellow for faeing in ower the heid; I thought one night he wad been drooned in gude earnest he was for trying to stick a fish hissel, and there was ane lying in a 'redd,'* siccan a nice shot as he could na weel miss, and he played at him wi' a' his pith, and by my saul ye could na tauld what gied to the boottom sunist, his heid or the leister: he didna haud his leister right, ye ken, but had it tight grupt in baith hands; and just as he let drive, a bit stane took his foot, and ower he gud squash. Ane o' the lads that nicht had gotten hissel a sort o' fou, and I thocht I wud died o' laughin when he jumpit in aboon him, and hauddit him down under water, yelling out- Gudesake! callants, ye maunna let him droon, dinna let him droon ;' he wud drooned him hissel or long, if we hadna pued them baith out thegithir, and it was amaist a' we were fit to do wi' the laughin'."

"I suppose nothing but long practice will make one handy at leistering, Andy."

"Oh, deed, no sir, there's naething but practice; but I hae seen thim that were na vera lang either; it comes natural to our lads about the water side; the great thing is aye to tak' yer time, and no fash wi’ being in a hurry. Ye haud the leister in the richt hand, letting it gang slippin' through the left this way, ye see (suiting the action to the word); then if ye stick yer fish haud him aye down and weel afore ye till ye git him out; but the fac' is no tellin' wull gie ye a notion sae weel as tryin' wi' yer ain han', and we maun gie ye a chance the nicht, sir."

"Well, Andy, we'll see what I can do; but we have been walking pretty fast, we are surely a good bit from the village by this time."

"Oh, we haena far to gang ce'noo, but here's the bit spring we ca' the Fishers' Tryst,' because we maistly hae a drap dram at it; we maun bide a wee till the lads cum till us, for we hae been walking fast; here sit ye down on this muckle stane, sir, and rest ye a bittie, Jamie and the lan will be here in a crack, but thir twae pokis wi' the lichts are gey weighty."

The night had now cleared a little, and a few stars were visible here and there, so that my eyes having become accustomed to the indistinct appearance of everything, I was now enabled to form some idea of the surrounding scenery, and of where I was. I could discern the road along which we had come at the base of an almost perpendicular rocky hill (which south of Tweed would have been called a mountain) that overhung and seemed to frown upon us where we were seated; from the rock beside us gushed out a little stream of clear water (the Fishers' Tryst of friend Andy), which flowing across the road continued its descent beyond on the other side of the way, where the declivity continued with the same steep fall, closely covered with bushes, fern, and furze, till all was lost in darkness, which was at length broken by a white line, which I knew must be the bonnie Tweed, and the scene of our proposed atrocities against the poor salmon. Whilst thus gazing down and trying to make out, from my daylight knowledge of the locality, the exact place where we were, a sudden gleam of light

"Redd" is the furrow made in the gravelly bottom by the salmon, and in which the ova is deposited.

seemed to shoot across the sky in the direction from which we had come. I was turning to ask Andy what it was, when he anticipated me by singing out" By the Lord its a licht! what can be keepin' thae callants?" and he gave three or four shrill whistles, which were directly answered from a little distance, and the rest of the party appeared in a few minutes. "What keepit ye, ye deevils? we ocht to been at it lang syne; do ye no see there a licht a'ready?"

"Host! feyther," said Jamie, "dinna ye fash yersel, its just the Hazel Bink ploughmen; we seed them kindlin down bye, they hae nae. thing but a wisp or twae o' strae, and they'll hae to gang hame to supper their horse in a wee; they couldna stick a fish at any rate," he alluded to the servants of a farmer whose house was close to the river.

I had provided Andy with a bottle of whisky from the inn, which he now pulled out along with a "tinny" (a tin cup), and handed to me, when after drinking success, the "tinny" was duly passed round, and each man did justice to the toast, as they phrased it-" More death.' This little interlude over, we set off, and after a little brisk walking left the road, and struck down towards the river.

A few minutes brought us to the water side, where down we sat on the bank to "clear for action." One pulled out some lucifers, another some straw from one of the "pokis," and a little puffing and blowing sufficed to kindle a fine blaze; Jamie took "the fork," already mentioned, and stuck on it a piece of the tarred bass matting, giving a sort of knowing twirl as he held it to the flame, which made it "blaze divinely," as the folds in which it had been squeezed became loosened in the wind; Andy and Jock o' the Mill grasped the leisters, the others shouldered the various " pokis," and in rushed to the stream-" Hurrah ' lads, more death!"

The scene was romantic; in spite of poaching associations, I could not but admire the effect as the dark woods and craggy hills, towering above and encircling us were every moment illuminated with the sudden gleam of the torch, the fitful flickerings of the blaze adding a wild unnatural grandeur to the savage beauty which was the characteristic of the scenery at all times. Let the reader picture the effect of Jamie's movements with the light, one moment running at top speed along the the bank, now dashing in and out of the stream, anon right through and across, the torch one moment depressed, the next elevated, every change disclosing some novel feature in the surrounding scenery; add to this the wild appearance of the party, their blackened distorted faces when the light shone on them, their eager gestures and anxious cries of encouragement or exultation, as a fish would dash up or down stream, or perhaps was stopped in mid career by a well-directed thrust of the leister. Picture this, I say; and "burning the water" may well call to mind some of the wild legends we have read in childhood, of warlocks and witches celebrating their fiendish rites at the witching hour.

But to return to plain fact. Night fishing may be-nay, is, both exciting in reality and romantic in imagination; but, dear reader, "a word to the wise." Let me quietly hint to you that a great deal of that same romance evaporates in a direct ratio with the heat from your own corpus, when perhaps wet to the middle from " walloping" in Tweed

"Pokis "Anglicè, sacks.

for a couple of hours on a December night; and the best hint I can give you for keeping "up the steam" is to "do at Rome as the Romans do," and take frequent small pulls at your pocket pistol, without which I can hardly imagine any one insane enough to make one of a leistering party, unless he be "to the manner born," or a regular Tweed waterkelpie, like my friend Jamie Craig, whose performance with the fork I have just been describing to you.

"Haud up the licht," sings out Jock o' the Mill, and in a moment he was in to the waist-bang! went the leister, and after a few struggles a fine salmon was laid gasping on the bank, which a kick or two stunned effectually.

"Rin on! rin on hard! the lichts near dune, eh, mon! yonder a fish, far out see Jock, see yonder by the muckle stane! noo ye hae him! a-a a-w! siccan a miss! ye deevils buckie," as Jock grated his leister harmlessly against the gravelly bottom, the fish disappearing in spite of a stroke made at him as he passed by Andy. "Never mind! there he gangs tho', he's up, na! na! he gaed doun-come here! come here! there he's lying the noo! yon's him, gang in Jock mon: canny Jamie, canny wi' ye; there ye hae him, haud him down, or he'll win off after a'." Such were the cries and exclamations during a fearful scramble, which ended in Andy Craig administering the coup de grace to another fine fish."

"Weel, a' reckon we micht dae waur than tak' a bit dram the noo, for ma faith the water's a wee bit cauld; here Jamie, gie's a licht for the pipe, and licht up a wisp o' that strae and a bit bass in it; that's a graund fish that ane ye stickit Jock; it'll be a couple o' stane that ane if its a pund."

Having got a blaze we sat down by it for a minute while the bottle went round, and we had "a rcek" at our "cutty" pipes. "Noo, sir, says Andy to me, "ye hae seen the thing dune, ye maun try and dae it yersel, and we're comin' to a dainty place for ye to begin, a bonnie ebb stream wi' a firm hard bottom and nae holes; sae ye needna be feared to gang in, and here's t'ye sir, and mair death.'""

As I looked at the group stretched round the fire, with all the spoil of our illegal sport around, I could not help thinking how unpleasant it would be to be caught in such company, and perhaps carried off to "durance vile," if it should so happen that a party of water-bailiffs were to make their entrée upon the scene. As the thought struck me, I could not avoid saying, "What would ye do, Andy, if the baillies were to come on you lying this way, with fish, lights, leisters and all, so cosily as you seem to take it.”

"Host, awa'! we dinna let sic like cattle bide hereawa; there's plenty o' them doon the water whar its keepit mair strictlike; but they dinna fash in us chaps after Jock o' the mill has put in his oar. There was a baillie ance put on at I-, but he didna bide vera lang, he wadna stay wi' us for an accident that happened him."

"An accident, indeed! what was that?"

"Troth," quoth Jock, "he slippit intill Tweed ae mirk cauld nicht, and was nigh bein' drooned or he could get hissel out again."

This was said with a significant grin, which spoke volumes, and made me ask for further particulars.

"Och deed, then the fac o' the matter is he was heaved in, and a