buttheploughhaspassedoverallbuttheupperpastoralsolitudes。TurningagaintothedownwardslopeyouseethelochofAlemoor，smallandsullen，withAlewaterfeedingit。Nobodyknowsmuchaboutthetroutinit。"Itisreckonedtheresidenceofthewater-cow，"amonsterliketheAustralianbunyip。Therewasawater-cowinScott'slochofCauldshiels，aboveAbbotsford。Thewater-cowhasnotlatelyemergedfromAlemoortoattackthecasualangler。Youclimbagainbygentleslopestillyoureachamostdesolatetable-land。FarbeyonditistheroundtopofWhitecombe，whichagainlooksdownonSt。Mary'sLoch，anduptheMoffat，andacrosstheMeggatWater；butnoneofthesearewithintheview。
　　Roundarepastorumlocavasta，landsofBuccleughandBellenden，Deloraine，Sinton，Headshaw，andGlack。Deloraine，bytheway，ispronounced"Delorran，"andperhapsisnamedfromOrran，theCelticsaint。Ontherightlies，notfarfromtheroad，agreysheetofwater，andthisisClearburn，wherefirstImettheDoctor。
　　Theloch，tobeplain，isalmostunfishable。Itisnearlyround，andeverywhere，exceptinasmallsegmentontheeasternside，isbegirtwithreedsofgreatheight。Thesereeds，again，growinapeculiarlyuncomfortable，quaggybottom，whichrisesandfalls，orratherwhichjumpsandsinkswhenyousteponit，liketheseatofaveryluxuriousarm-chair。Moreover，thebottomispiercedwithmanysprings，whereinifyousetfootyoushallhavethrownyourlastcast。
　　Bywatchingthelochwhenitisfrozen，amanmightcometolearnsomethingofthesprings；but，evenso，itishardtokeepclearoftheminsummer。Nowthewindalmostalwaysblowsfromthewest，deadagainstthelittlepieceofgravellyshoreattheeasternside，sothatcastingagainstitishardworkandunprofitable。Onthisday，byararechance，thewindblewfromtheeast，thoughtheskyatfirstwasabrilliantblue，andthesunhotandfierce。I
　　walkedroundtotheeastside，wadedin，andcaughttwoorthreesmallfellows。Itwasslowwork，whensuddenlytherebeganthegreatestriseoftroutIeversawinmylife。Fromtheedgeofthelochasfarasonecouldclearlyseeacrossittherewasthatendlessplashingmurmur，ofallsoundsinthisworldthesweetesttotheear。Withintheviewoftheeye，oneachcast，therewereadozentroutrisingallabout，neverleaping，butseriouslyandsolemnlyfeeding。Nowismychanceatlast，Ifancied；butitwasnotso——farfromit。Imightthrowovertheverynosesofthebeasts，buttheyseldomevenglancedattheartificialfly。I
　　triedthemwithGreenwell'sGlory，withaMarchbrown，with"thewoodcockwingandhare-lug，"butitwasalmosttonopurpose。Ifonedidraiseafish，hemeantnotbusiness——allbut"acasualbrute，"whichbrokethealreadyweakenedpartofasmall"glued-up"
　　canerod。Ihadtotwistapieceofpaperroundthebrokenend，wetit，andpushitintothejoint，whereithungonsomehow，butwasnotpleasanttocastwith。Fromtwelvetohalf-pastonethegorgingwentmerrilyforward，andIsawwhatthefishwererisingat。Thewholesurfaceoftheloch，atleastontheeastside，wasabsolutelypepperedwithlarge，hideousinsects。Theyhadbiggrey-whitewings，bodiesblackasnight，andbrilliantcrimsonlegs，orfeelers，orwhatevernaturalistscallthem。Thetroutseemedasiftheycouldnothavetoomuchoftheseabominablewretches，andtheflieswereblownacrosstheloch，notsingly，butinpopulousgroups。Ihadneverseenanythingliketheminanyhook-book，norcouldIdeceivethetroutbytheprimitivedodgeoftyingaredthreadroundtheshankofadarkfly。SoIwadedout，andfelltomunchingafrugalsandwichandwatchingNature，notwithoutacigarette。
　　NowNatureisallverywell。IhavenothingtosayagainstherofaSunday，orwhentroutarenotrising。Butshewasnocomforttomenow。Smilingshegazedonmydiscomfiture。Thelovelylinesofthehills，curvingabouttheloch，andwiththeirdeepestdipjustoppositewhereIsat，wereallofagoldenautumnbrown，exceptinthevioletdistance。ThegrassofParnassusgrewthickandwhitearoundme，withitsmoonlighttintofgreenintheveins。Onahillsidebyabrookthecountryfolkwerewinningtheirhay，andtheirvoicesreachedmesoftlyfromfaroff。Onthelochthemarsh-fowlflashedanddipped，thewildducksplayedanddivedandrose；firstcirclinghighandhigher，then，marshalledintheshapeofaV，theymadeforAlemoor。Asolitaryheroncamequitenearme，andtriedhischancewiththefish，butIthinkhehadnoluck。
　　Allthisispleasanttoremember，andImaderudesketchesinthefly-leavesofacopyofHogg'spoems，whereIkeptmyflies。Butwhatjoywasthereinthiswhilethe"take"grewfainterandceasedatleastneartheshore？Outinthemiddle，wherefewfliesmanagedtofloat，thetroutwereatittilldark。Butnearshoretherewasjustonetroutwhoneverstoppedgorgingallday。Helivedexactlyoppositethenickinthedistanthills，andexactlyayardfartheroutthanIcouldthrowafly。Hewasabigone，andI
　　aminclinedtothinkthathewastheDevil。For，ifIhadsteppedindeeper，andthewaterhadcomeovermywadingboots，theoddsarethatmyfraildaysonearthwouldhavebeenendedbyachill，andIknewthis，andyetthatfishwentontemptingmetomyruin。
　　IsupposeItriedtoreachhimadozentimes，andcastahundred，butitwastonoavail。Atlength，astheafternoongrewgreyandchill，Ipitchedarockathim，bywayofshowingthatIsawthroughhisfiendishguile，andIwalkedaway。
　　Therewasnorisenow，andthelakewasleadenandgloomy。WhenI
　　reachedtheedgeofthedeepreedsItried，onceortwice，towadethroughthemwithincastingdistanceofthewater，butwasalwaysdrivenoffbythetraitorousquagginessofthesoil。Atlast，takingmycourageinbothhands，IactuallygotsonearthatI
　　couldthrowaflyoverthetopofthetallreeds，andthencameaheavysplash，andthewretchedlittlebrokenrodnearlydoubledup。
　　"Hooray，hereIamamongthebigones!"Isaid，andheldon。ItwasnowthatIlearnedthenatureofNero'sdiversionwhenhewasananglerintheLakeofDarkness。Thelochreallydiddeservetheterm"grim"；thewaterherewasblack，theskywasashen，thelonggreenreedsclosedcoldaboutme，andbeyondthemtherewastroutthatIcouldnotdealwith。Forwhenhetiredofrunning，whichwassoon，hewasasfarawayasever。DrawhimthroughtheforestofreedsIcouldnot。AtlastIdidthefatalthing。Itookholdoftheline，andthen，"plop，"asthepoetsaid。Hewasoff。A
　　youngsportsmanonthebankwhohadjoinedmeexpressedhisartlessdisappointment。Icastovertheconfoundedreedsoncemore。
　　"Splash!"——theoldstory!Istucktothefish，andgothimintothewaterywood，andthenhewentwherethelosttroutgo。Nomorecameon，soIflounderedayardortwofarther，andclimbedintoawild-fowl'snest，akindofplatformofmattedreeds，allyellowandfaded。Thenestimmediatelysankdowndeepintothewater，butitstoppedsomewhere，andImadeacast。Theblackwaterboiled，andthetroutwentstraightdownandsulked。Imerelyheldon，tillatlastitseemed"timeforustogo，"andbycautioustuggingIgothimthroughthereedyjungle，and"gruppithim，"astheShepherdwouldhavesaid。Hewassimplybutdecentlywrappedround，fromsnouttotail，inveryfinewater-weeds，asinagarment。Moreover，hewasasblackasyourhat，quiteunlikethecomelyyellowtroutwholiveonthegravelinClearburn。Ithardlyseemedsensibletogetdrownedinthisgruesomekindofangling，so，leavingtheLakeofDarkness，wemadeforBuccleugh，passingthecleughwherethebuckwasta'en。Surelyitisthedeepest，thesteepest，andthegreenestcleughthatisshoneonbythesun!
　　Therebywemetanangler，anancientmaninhoddengrey，strollinghomefromtheRankleburn。Andwetoldhimofourbadday，andaskedhimconcerningthathideousfly，whichhadcoveredthelochandluredthetroutfromourdecentGreenwellsandMarchbrowns。
　　Andtheancientmanlistenedtoourdescriptionofthemonster，andHesaid:"Hoot，ay；ye'vejestforgatheredwi'theBloodyDoctor。"
　　This，itappears，istheBorderangler'snameforthehorribleinsect，somuchappreciatedbytrout。Sowedrovehome，whenallthegreattable-landwastouchedwithyellowlightfromariftinthewest，andallthebrokenhillslookedblueagainstthesilverygrey。Godblessthem!formancannotspoilthem，noranyrevolutionshapethemotherthantheyare。WeseethemasthefolkfromFloddensawthem，asLeydenknewthem，astheylookedtoWilliamofDeloraine，astheyshowedintheeyesofWatofHardenandofJamieTelferoftheFairDodhead。Theyhavealwaysgirdledalandofwarriorsandofpeoplefondofsong，fromtheoldestballad-makertothatScotchProbationerwhowrote，Laymehere，whereImayseeTeviotroundhismeadowsflowing，AndaboutandovermeWindsandcloudsforevergoing。
　　ItwasdarkbeforewesplashedthroughthefordofBorthwickWater，anddined，andwrotetoMr。AndersonofPrincesStreet，Edinburgh，forasupplyofBloodyDoctors。Butweneverhadachancetotrythem。IhavesincefishedClearburnfromaboat，butitwasnotadayofrisingfish，andnobigonescametothelanding-net。Thereareplentyintheloch，butyouneednotmakethewearyjourney；
　　theyarenotforyounorme。
　　THELADYORTHESALMON？
　　ThecircumstanceswhichattendedandcausedthedeathoftheHon。
　　HoughtonGrannomhavenotlongbeenknowntome，anditisonlynowthat，bythedeceaseofhisfather，LordWhitchurch，andtheextinctionofhisnoblefamily，Iampermittedtodivulgethefacts。Thatthetruetaleofmyunhappyfriendwilltouchdifferentchordsindifferentbreasts，Iamwellaware。Thesportsman，Ithink，willhesitatetoapprovehim；thefair，Ihope，willabsolve。Whoarewe，toscrutinisehumanmotives，andtoawardourblametoactionswhich，perhaps，mighthavebeenourown，hadopportunitybesetandtemptationbeguiledus？Thereisacertainpointatwhichthekeenestsenseofhonour，themostchivalrousaffectionanddevotion，cannotbearthestrain，butbreaklikeasalmonlineunderamasterfulstress。Thatmyfriendsuccumbed，Iadmit；thathewashisownjudge，theseverest，andpassedandexecutedsentenceonhimself，Ihavenowtoshow。
　　IshallneverforgettheshockwithwhichIreadinthe"Scotsman，"
　　under"Angling，"thefollowingparagraph:
　　"Tweed——StrangeDeathofanAngler——Anunfortunateeventhascastagloomoverfishersinthisdistrict。AsMr。K-，thekeeperontheB-water，wasbusyanglingyesterday，hisattentionwascaughtbysomeobjectfloatingonthestream。Hecasthisfliesoverit，andlandedasoftfelthat，theribbonstuckfullofsalmon-flies。
　　Mr。K-atoncehurriedup-stream，filledwiththemostlivelyapprehensions。Theseweresoonjustified。Inashallow，belowthenarrow，deepanddangerousrapidscalled"TheTrows，"Mr。K-sawasalmonleapinginaverycuriousmanner。Onacloserexamination，hefoundthatthefishwasattachedtoaline。Aboutseventyyardshigherhefound，inshallowwater，thebodyofaman，thehandstillgraspingindeaththebuttoftherod，towhichthesalmonwasfast，allthelinebeingrunout。Mr。K-atoncerushedintothestream，anddraggedoutthebody，inwhichherecognisedwithhorrortheHon。HoughtonGrannom，towhomthewaterwaslatelylet。
　　Lifehadbeenforsomeminutesextinct，andthoughMr。K-instantlyhurriedforDr-，thatgentlemancouldonlyattestthemelancholyfact。Thewadingin"TheTrows"isextremelydangerousanddifficult，andMr。Grannom，whowasfondoffishingwithoutanattendant，musthavelosthisbalance，slipped，andbeendraggeddownbytheweightofhiswaders。Therecentbreakingoffofthehon。gentleman'scontemplatedmarriageontheverywedding-daywillbefreshinthememoryofourreaders。"
　　ThiswasthestorywhichIreadinthenewspaperduringbreakfastonemorninginNovember。Iwasdeeplygrieved，ratherthanastonished，forIhaveoftenremonstratedwithpoorGrannomontherecklessnessofhiswading。ItwaswithsomesurprisethatI
　　received，inthecourseoftheday，aletterfromhim，inwhichhespokeonlyofindifferentmatters，ofthefishingwhichhehadtaken，andsoforth。Theletterwasaccompanied，however，byaparcel。Tearingofftheoutercover，Ifoundasealeddocumentaddressedtome，withthesuperscription，"Nottobeopeneduntilaftermyfather'sdecease。"Thisinjunction，ofcourse，Ihavescrupulouslyobeyed。ThedeathofLordWhitchurch，thelastoftheGrannoms，nowgivesmelibertytopublishmyfriend'sApologiapromorteetvitasua。
　　"DearSmith"thedocumentbegins，"Beforeyoureadthis——longbefore，Ihope——Ishallhavesolvedthegreatmystery——if，indeed，wesolveit。Ifthewaterrunsdownto-morrow，andthereiseveryprospectthatitwilldoso，Imusthavetheopportunityofmakingsuchanendasevenmalignitycannotsuspectofbeingvoluntary。
　　Thereareplentyoffishinthewater；ifIhookonein"TheTrows，"Ishallletmyselfgowhitherthecurrenttakesme。Lifehasforweeksbeenodioustome；forwhatislifewithouthonour，withoutlove，andcoupledwithshameandremorse？RepentanceI
　　cannotcalltheemotionwhichgnawsmeattheheart，forinsimilarcircumstancesunlikelyasthesearetooccurIfeelthatIwoulddothesamethingagain。
　　"Arewebutautomata，workedbysprings，movedbythestrongerimpulse，andunabletochooseforourselveswhichimpulsethatshallbe？Evennow，indecreeingmyowndestruction，doIexercisefree-will，oramIthesportofhereditarytendencies，ofmistakenviewsofhonour，ofaseemingself-sacrifice，which，perhaps，isbutselfishnessindisguise？Iblightmyunfortunatefather'soldage；Idestroythelastofanancienthouse；butIremovefromthepathofOliveDunnetheshadowthatmustrestuponthesunshineofwhatwilleventually，Itrust，beahappylife，unvexedbymemoriesofonewholovedherpassionately。DearOlive!howpure，howardentwasmydevotiontohernoneknowsbetterthanyou。ButOlivehad，Iwillnotsayafault，thoughIsufferfromit，butaquality，orrathertwoqualities，whichhavecompletedmymisery。
　　Lightlyasshefloatsonthestreamofsociety，themostcasualobserver，andeventheenamouredbeholder，canseethatOliveDunnehasgreatpride，andnosenseofhumour。Herdignityisheridol。
　　Whatmakesher，evenforamoment，thepossiblethemeofridiculeisinhereyesanunpardonablesin。Thissin，Imustwithpenitenceconfess，Ididindeedcommit。Anotherwomanmighthaveforgivenme。Iknownothowthatmaybe；Ithrowmyselfonthemercyofthecourt。But，ifanothercouldpityandpardon，toOlivethiswasimpossible。Ihaveneverseenhersincethatfatalmomentwhen，palerthanherorangeblossoms，shesweptthroughtheporchofthechurch，whileI，dishevelled，mud-stained，half-
　　drowned——ah!thatmemorywilltorturemeifmemoryatallremains。
　　Andyet，fool，maniac，thatIwas，Icouldnotresistthewild，madimpulsetolaughwhichshooktherusticspectators，andwhichinmycasewasdue，Itrust，tohystericalbutNOTunmanlyemotion。Ifanywoman，anybride，couldforgivesuchanapparentbutmostunintentionalinsult，OliveDunne，Iknew，wasnotthatwoman。Myabjectlettersofexplanation，myappealsformercy，werereturnedunopened。Herparentspitiedme，perhapshadreasonsforbeingonmyside，butOlivewasofmarble。Itisnotonlymyselfthatshecannotpardon，shewillnever，Iknow，forgiveherselfwhilemyexistenceremindsherofwhatshehadtoendure。Whenshereceivestheintelligenceofmydemise，nosuspicionwilloccurtoher；shewillnotsay"Heisfitlypunished；"butherpeaceofmindwillgraduallyreturn。
　　Itisforthis，mainly，thatIsacrificemyself，butalsobecauseI
　　cannotendurethedishonourofalaggardinloveandarecreantbridegroom。
　　Somuchformymotives:nowtomytale。
　　Thedaybeforeourwedding-dayhadbeenthehappiestinmylife。
　　NeverhadIfeltsocertainofOlive'saffections，neversofortunateinmyown。Wepartedinthesoftmoonlight；she，nodoubt，tofinishhernuptialpreparations；I，toseekmycouchinthelittleruralinnabovetheroaringwatersoftheBudon。{3}
　　Moveeastward，happyearth，andleaveYonorangesunsetfadingslow；
　　FromfringesofthefadedeveOh，happyplanet，eastwardgo，Imurmured，thoughtheatmosphericconditionswerenotreallythosedescribedbythepoet。
　　"Ah，bearmewiththee，smoothlyborne，Dipforwardunderstarrylight，Andmovemetomymarriagemorn，Androundagainto-
　　"Riveringrandorder，sir，"saidthevoiceofRobins，thekeeper，whorecognisedmeinthemoonlight。"There'saregularmonsterintheAshweil，"headded，namingafavouritecast；"neversawnorheardofsuchafishinthewaterbefore。"
　　"Mr。Dickmustcatchhim，Robins，"Ianswered；"nofishingformeto-morrow。"
　　"No，sir，"saidRobins，affably。"Wishyoujoy，sir，andMissOlive，too。It'sapity，though!MasterDick，hethrowsafinefly，buthegetsflurriedwithabigfish，beingyoung。Andthisoneisatopper。"
　　Withthathegavemegood-night，andIwenttobed，butnottosleep。Iwasfeveredwithhappiness；thepastandfuturereeledbeforemywakefulvision。Iheardeveryclockstrike；thesoundsofmorningwereastir，andstillIcouldnotsleep。Theceremony，forreasonsconnectedwithourlongjourneytomyfather'splaceinHampshire，wastobeearly——half-pasttenwasthehour。Ilookedatmywatch；itwassevenoftheclock，andthenIlookedoutofthewindow:itwasafine，softgreymorning，withasouthwindtossingtheyellowingboughs。Igotup，dressedinahastyway，andthoughtIwouldjusttakealookattheriver。Itwas，indeed，ingloriousorder，lappingoverthetopofthesharpstonewhichweregardedasameasureoftheduesizeofwater。
　　Themorningwasyoung，sleepwasoutofthequestion；Icouldnotsettlemymindtoread。WhyshouldInottakeafarewellcast，alone，ofcourse？Ialwaysdislikedtheattendanceofagillie。I
　　tookmysalmonrodoutofitscase，riggeditup，andstartedforthestream，whichflowedwithinacoupleofhundredyardsofmyquarters。Thereitracedundertheashtree，apaledelicatebrown，perhapsalittlethingtoocoloured。IthereforeputonalargeSilverDoctor，andbegansteadilyfishingdowntheash-treecast。WhatifIshouldwipeDick'seye，Ithought，when，justwheretheroughandsmoothwatermeet，thereboiledupaheadandshoulderssuchasIhadneverseenonanyfish。Myheartleapedandstoodstill，buttherecamenosensationfromtherod，andI
　　finishedthecast，mykneesactuallytremblingbeneathme。ThenI
　　gentlyliftedtheline，andveryelaboratelytestedeverylinkofthepowerfulcasting-line。ThenIgavehimtenminutesbymywatch；next，withunspeakableemotion，Isteppedintothestreamandrepeatedthecast。Justatthesamespothecameupagain；thehugerodbentlikeaswitch，andthesalmonrushedstraightdownthepool，asifhemeanttomakeforthesea。Istaggeredontodrylandtofollowhimtheeasier，anddraggedatmywatchtotimethefish；aquartertoeight。Buttheslimchainhadbroken，andthewatch，asIhastilythrustitback，missedmypocketandfellintothewater。Therewasnotimetostoopforit；thefishstartedafresh，toreupthepoolasfastashehadgonedownit，and，rushingbehindthetorrent，intotheeddyatthetop，leapedcleanoutofthewater。Hewas70lbs。ifhewasanounce。Hereheslackenedalittle，droppingback，andIgotinsomeline。NowhesulkedsointenselythatIthoughthehadgotthelineroundarock。Itmightbebroken，mightbeholdingfasttoasunkenstone，foraughtthatIcouldtell；andthetimewaspassing，Iknewnothowrapidly。Itriedallknownmethods，tuggingathim，tappingthebutt，andslackeninglineonhim。Atlastthetopoftherodwasslightlyagitated，andthen，backflewthelonglineinmyface。Gone!Ireeledupwithasigh，butthelinetightenedagain。Hehadmadeasuddenrushundermybank，buttherehelayagainlikeastone。Howlong？Ah!Icannottellhowlong!I
　　heardthechurchclockstrike，butmissedthenumberofthestrokes。Soonhestartedagaindown-streamintotheshallows，leapingattheendofhisrush——themonster。Thenhecameslowlyup，and"jiggered"savagelyattheline。Itseemedimpossiblethatanytacklecouldstandtheseshortviolentjerks。Soonheshowedsignsofweakening。Oncehishugesilversideappearedforamomentnearthesurface，butheretreatedtohisoldfastness。I
　　wasinatremorofdelightanddespair。Ishouldhavethrowndownmyrod，andflownonthewingsoflovetoOliveandthealtar。ButIhopedthattherewastimestill——thatitwasnotsoverylate!
　　Atlengthhewasfailing。Iheardteno'clockstrike。Hecameupandlumberedonthesurfaceofthepool。GraduallyIdrewhim，plungingponderously，tothegravelledbeach，whereImeantto"tail"him。Heyieldedtothestrain，hewasintheshallows，thelinewasshortened。Istoopedtoseizehim。Thefrayedandoverworngutbrokeataknot，andwithalooserollhedroppedbacktowardsthedeep。Isprangathim，stumbled，fellonhim，struggledwithhim，butheslippedfrommyarms。InthatmomentI
　　knewmorethantheanguishofOrpheus。Orpheus!HadI，too，lostmyEurydice？Irushedfromthestream，upthesteepbank，alongtomyrooms。Ipassedthechurchdoor。Olive，paleasherorange-
　　blossoms，wasissuingfromtheporch。Theclockpointedto10。45。
　　Iwasruined，Iknewit，andIlaughed。Ilaughedlikealostspirit。Shesweptpastme，and，amidsttheamazementofthegentleandsimple，Ispedwildlyaway。Askmenomore。Therestissilence。"
　　***
　　Thusendsmyhaplessfriend'snarrative。Ileaveittothejudgmentofwomenandofmen。Ladies，wouldyouhaveactedasOliveDunneacted？Wouldpride，orpardon，ormirthhaveriddensparklinginyoureyes？Men，mybrethren，wouldyehavedesertedthesalmonforthelady，ortheladyforthesalmon？IknowwhatI
　　wouldhavedonehadIbeenfairOliveDunne。WhatIwouldhavedonehadIbeenHoughtonGrannomImaynotventuretodivulge。Forthisnarrative，then，asforanother，"Leteverymanreaditashewill，andeverywomanasthegodshavegivenherwit。"{4}
　　ATWEEDSIDESKETCH
　　Thestoryofthefollowingadventure——thisdeplorableconfession，onemaysay——willnothavebeenwritteninvainifitimpressesonyoungmindsthesupremenecessityofcarefulnessaboutdetails。
　　Letthe"casual"andregardlesswhoreadit——thegatless，astheysayinSuffolk——ponderthelessonwhichitteaches:alessonwhichnoamountofbitterexperiencehaseverimpressedontheunprinciplednarrator。Neverdoanythingcarelesslywhetherinfishingoringolf，andcarrythisimportantmaximevenintothemostseriousaffairsoflife。Manyabattlehasbeenlost，nodoubt，bylackofammunition，orbyplentyofammunitionwhichdidnothappentosuittheguns；andmanyasalmonhasbeenlost，ay，andmanyatrout，forwantofcarefulness，andthroughaculpableinattentiontothesoundnessofyourgut，andtacklegenerally。
　　Whatfiendisitthatpromptsamanjusttotryahopelesscast，inalowwater，withouttestinghistackle？Assureasyoudothat，upcomesthefish，andwithhisfirstdashbreaksyourcastingline，andleavesyoulamenting。ThisdoctrineIpreach，beingmyown"awfulexample。""Badandcarelesslittleboy，"myworthymasterusedtosayatschool；andhewouldhaveprovokedasmileinothercircumstances。ButMr。Trotter，oftheEdinburghAcademy，hadsomethingabouthimheusuallycarrieditinthetail-pocketofhiscoatwhichinspiredrespectanddiscouragedribaldry。
　　WouldthatIhadlistenedtoMr。Trotter；wouldthatIhadcorrected，inearlylife，thehappy-go-luckydispositiontoscattermyGreekaccents，asitwere，withapepper-caster，tofishwithworntackle，and，generally，tomakefreewiththeresponsibilitiesoflifeandliterature。Itistoolatetoamend，butothersmaylearnwisdomfromthisspectacleofdeservedmisfortuneandabsolutediscomfiture。
　　Iamnotmyselfasalmon-fisher，thoughwillingtotrythatartagain，andthoughthisisataleofsalmon。TomyselfthedifferencebetweenanglingfortroutandanglingforsalmonislikethedifferencebetweenadrawingofLionardo's，insilverpoint，andaloadedlandscapebyMacGilp，R。A。Trout-fishingisallanidyll，alldelicacy——thatis，trout-fishingontheTestorontheItchen。Youwanderbyclearwater，beneathgraciouspoplar-trees，unencumberedwithanythingbutaslimrodofMessrs。Hardy'smake，andalighttoy-boxofdelicateflies。Youneedseldomwade，andthewaterisshallow，thebottomisofsilvergravel。Youneednotsearchalldayatrandom，butyouselectarisingtrout，andendeavourtolaythefloatingflydelicatelyoverhim。Ifyoupartwithhim，thereisalwaysanotherfeedingmerrily:
　　Inveniesaliumsitehicfastidit。
　　ItislikeanexcursionintoCorot'scountry，itisrichinmemoriesofWaltonandCotton:itisadreamofpeace，andtheybringyouyourteabytheriverside。Insalmon-fishing，ontheTweedatleast，allisdifferent。Therod，atalleventstherodwhichsomeonekindlylentme，islikeaweaver'sbeam。ThehighheavywadingtrousersandbootsareevenasthearmourofthegiantofGath。Youhavetoplungewaistdeep，ordeeper，intoroaringtorrents，andifthewaterbeatall"drumly"youhavenotanideawhereyournextstepmayfall。Itmaybeonahiddenrock，oronaroundslipperyboulder，oritmaybeintoadeep"pot"orhole。
　　Theinexperiencedanglerstaggerslikeadrunkenman，isoccasionallydrowned，andmorefrequentlyisducked。Youhavetocastpainfully，withsteepprecipitousbanksbehindyou，allovergrownwithtrees，withbracken，withbramble。Itisaboy'sworktodisentangletheflyfromthebranchesofashandelmandpine。Thereisnodelicacy，andthereisagreatdealofexertioninallthis。Youdonotcastsubtilelyoverafishwhichyouknowisthere，butyouswish，swish，allacrossthecurrent，withastrongreluctancetoliftthelineaftereachventureandtryanother。Thesmallofthebackaches，anditisliterallyinthesweatofyourbrowthatyoutakeyourdiversion。Afterall，therearemanyblankdays，whenthesalmonwilllookatnofly，orwhenyouencountertheSalmoirritans，whoriseswitheveryappearanceofearnestgood-will，butnevertouchesthehook，or，ifhedoestouchit，runsoutacoupleofyardsofline，andvanishesforever。Whatsaysthepoet？
　　There'sanaccommodatingfish，Inpoolorstream，byrockorpot，Whorisesfrequentasyouwish，At"Popham，""Parson，"or"JockScott，"
　　Oralmostanyflyyou'vegotInallthefurredandfeatheredclans。
　　Youstrike，butah，youstrikehimnotHeistheSalmoirritans!
　　ItmaybedifferentinNorwayoronthelowercastsoftheTweed，asatFloors，orMakerstoun；buthigherupthecountry，inScott'sowncountry，atYairorAshiesteil，thereisoftenaterribleamountoffruitlessworktobedone。AndIdoubtif，exceptinthrowingaverylongline，andknowingthewatersbyoldexperience，thereisverymuchskillinsalmon-fishing。Itisallanaffairofmuscleandpatience。Thechoiceoffliesisalmostapureaccident。Everyonebelievesintheflywithwhichhehasbeensuccessful。Thesestrangecombinationsofblues，reds，golds，oftinselandworsted，offeathersandfur，arepurelyfantasticarticles。Theyarelikenothinginnature，andaremultipliedforthefancifulamusementofanglers。Nobodyknowswhysalmonriseatthem；nobodyknowswhytheywillbiteononedayandnotonanother，orrather，onmanyothers。Itisnotevensettledwhetherweshoulduseabrightflyonabrightday，andadarkflyonadarkday，asDr。Hamiltonadvises，orreversethechoiceasothersuse。Musclesandpatience，these，Irepeat，aretheonlyingredientsofultimatesuccess。
　　However，onedoesdoatRomeastheRomansdo，andfishesforsalmoninTweedwhenthenetsareoffinOctober，whentheyellowingleavesbegintofall，andwhenthatbeautifulreachofwoodedvalleyfromElibanktothemeetingofTweedandEttrickisintheheightofitsautumnalcharm。WhyhasYarrowbeensomuchmorebesungthanTweed，inspiteofthegreaterstream'sfargreaterandmorevariedloveliness？ThefatalduelintheDowieDensofYarrowandthelamenteddrowningofWillietherehavegiventhestreamits'pastoralmelancholy，'andengagedWordsworthintherenownofthewater。ForthepoetryofTweedwehavechiefly，afterScott，tothankMr。Stoddart，itsloyalminstrel。"Dearerthanallthesetome，"hesaysaboutourothervalleys，"issylvanTweed。"
　　Letitheranglerschoosetheirain，Anditherwaterstak'theleadO'Hielandstreamswecovetnane，ButgietousthebonnyTweed；
　　Andgietousthecheerfu'burn，Thatstealsintoitsvalleyfair，Thestreamletsthat，atilkaturn，Saesaftlymeetandminglethere。
　　Hekepthispromise，giveninthefollowingverse:
　　AndI，whentobreatheisalabour，andjoyForgetsme，andlifeisnolongertheboy，Onthelabouringstaff，andthetremorousknee，Willwander，brightriver，tothee!
　　Lifeisalways"theboy"whenoneisbesidetheTweed。Timeschange，andwechange，fortheworse。Buttheriverchangeslittle。StillhecoursesthroughthekeenandnarrowrocksbeneaththebridgeofYair。
　　FromYair，whichhillssocloselybind，ScarcecantheTweedhispassagefind，Thoughmuchhefret，andchafe，andtoil，Tillallhiseddyingcurrentsboil。
　　Stillthewaterloitersbythelongboat-poolofYair，asthoughloathtoleavethedroopingboughsoftheelms。StillitcourseswithadeepeddythroughtheElmWheel，andripplesunderFernilea，wheretheauthorofthe"FlowersoftheForest"livedinthatnowmoulderingandrooflesshall，withthepeakedturrets。StillNeidpathisfair，Neidpathoftheunhappymaid，andstillwemarkthetinyburnatAshiesteil，howinNovember，Murmuringhoarse，andfrequentseen，Throughbushandbriar，nolongergreen，Anangrybrook，itsweepstheglade，Brawlsoverrockandwildcascade，Andfoamingbrown，withdoubledspeed，HurriesitswaterstotheTweed。
　　StilltheoldtowerofElibankisblackandstronginruin；
　　Elibank，thehomeofthatMuckleMou'dMeg，whomadeHardenafterallabetterbridethanhewouldhavefoundinthehangingash-treeofherfather。Theseareunaltered，mainly，sinceScottsawthemlast，andlittlealteredisthehomelyhouseofAshiesteil，wherehehadbeensohappy。Andwe，too，feelbutlittlechangeamongthosescenesoflongago，thosebest-belovedhauntsofboyhood，wherewehavehadsomanygooddaysandbad，daysofrisingtroutandsuccess；daysoffailure，andevenofhalf-drowning。
　　Onecannotreproducethecharmofthestrongriverinpoolandstream，ofthesteeprichbankthatitrushesorlingersby，ofthegreenandheatheryhillsbeyond，orthebareslopeswheretheblueslatebreaksthroughamongthedarkoldthorn-trees，remnantsoftheforest。Itisallhomelyandallhaunted，and，ifaTweedsidefishermighthavehisdesire，hewouldsleepthelongsleepinthelittlechurchyardthatlieslonelyabovethepoolofCaddon-foot，andhardbyChristopherNorth'sfavouritequartersatClovenfords。
　　However，whilewearestillonearth，Caddon-footismoreattractiveforherlongsweepofsalmon-pool——thehomeofsea-trouttoo——thanpreciselyforherkirk-yard。Therewillbetimeenoughforthat，andtimeitistorecurtothesadstoryofthebigfishandthecarelessangler。ItwasaboutthefirstdayofOctober，andwehadenjoyeda"spate。"Salmon-fishingisamerechildoftheweather；withrainalmostanybodymayraisefish，withoutitallartisapttobevain。Wehadbeenblessedwithaspate。OnWednesdaytheTweedhadbeenroaringredfrombanktobank。
　　Salmon-fishingwaswhollyoutofthequestion，anditistobefearedthattheinnumerabletrout-fishers，busyoneveryeddy，werebaitingwithsalmonroe，anillegallure。OnThursdaytheredtingehaddiedoutofthewater，butonlyaverystrongwaderwouldhaveventuredin；othershadagoodchance，iftheytriedit，ofbeingpickedupatBerwick。Fridaywasthelucklessdayofmyownfailureandbrokenheart。Thewaterwasstillveryheavyandturbid，afranticwindwaslashingthewoods，heapsofdeadleavesfloateddown，andseveralsheavesofcornweredriftedonthecurrent。Thelongboat-poolatYair，however，isshelteredbywoodedbanks，anditwaspossibleenoughtocast，inspiteofthewind'sfury。Wehaddrivenfromaplaceaboutfivemilesdistant，andwehadnotdriventhreehundredyardsbeforeIrememberedthatwehadforgottenthelanding-net。But，asIexpectednothing，itdidnotseemworthwhiletogobackforthisindispensableimplement。Wereachedthewater-side，andfoundthatthetroutwerefeedingbelowthependentbranchesofthetreesandinthequiet，deepeddiesofthelongboat-pool。Onecannotseerisingtroutwithoutcastingoverthem，inpreferencetolabouringaftersalmon，soIputupasmallrodanddivertedmyselffromthebank。
　　Itwastolittlepurpose。Tweedtroutarenowgrownveryshyandcapricious；evenadryflyfailedtodoanyexecutionworthmentioning。Consciencecompelledme，asIhadbeensentoutbykindhoststofishforsalmon，nottoneglectmyorders。Thearmour——theponderousgearofthefisher——wasputonwiththeenormousboots，andthegiganticrodwasequipped。Thencamethebeginningofsorrows。Wehadleftthebooksofsalmonfliescomfortablyreposingathome。Wehadalsoforgottenthewhiskeyflask。Everything，infact，exceptcigarettes，hadbeenleftbehind。Unluckily，notquiteeverything:Ihadatroutfly-book，andthereinlayjustonelargesalmonfly，notaTweedfly，butalurethatisusedonthebeautifulandhopelesswatersofthedistantKen，inGalloway。Ithadbrownwings，adarkbody，andapieceofjungle-cockfeather，anditwasfastenedtoasea-troutcasting-line。Now，ifIhadpossessednosalmonfliesatall，I
　　musteitherhavesentbackforsome，orgoneoninnocentlydallyingwithtrout。Butthisonewretchedflyluredmetomyruin。Isawthatthecasting-linehadalinkwhichseemedrathertwisted。I
　　triedit；but，inthespiritofDonQuixotewithhishelmet，Ididnottryithard。Iwadedintotheeasiest-lookingpartofthepool，justaboveahugetreethatdroppeditsboughstothewater，andbegancasting，merelyfromasenseofduty。Ihadnotcastadozentimesbeforetherewasaheavy，slowplungeinthestream，andaglimpseofpurpleandazure。
　　"That'shim，"criedamanwhowastroutingontheoppositebank。
　　Doubtlessitwas"him，"buthehadnottouchedthehook。Ibelievethecorrectthingwouldhavebeentowaitforhalfanhour，andthentrythefishwithasmallerfly。ButIhadnosmallerfly，nootherflyatall。Isteppedbackafewpaces，andfisheddownagain。InMajorTraherne'sworkIhavereadthattheheartleaps，orstandsstill，orotherwisebetraysanuncomfortableinterest，whenonecastsforthesecondtimeoverasalmonwhichhasrisen。
　　IcannothonestlysaythatIsufferedfromthistumultuousemotion。
　　"Hewillnotcomeagain，"Isaid，whentherewasalongheavydragattheline，followedbyashriekingofthereel，asinMr。WilliamBlack'snovels。Letitbeconfessedthatthefirsthookingofasalmonisanexcitementunparalleledintrout-fishing。Therehavebeenanglerswho，whenthesalmonwasonceon，handedhimovertothegillietoplayandland。Onewouldliketoactasgillietothoselordlyamateurs。Myownfishrusheddownstream，wherethebigtreestands。Ihadnohopeoflandinghimifhetookthatcourse，becauseonecouldneitherpasstherodundertheboughs，norwadeoutbeyondthem。Buthesooncameback，whileonetookinline，anddiscussedhisprobablesizewiththetrout-fisheropposite。Hissize，indeed!Nobodyknowswhatitwas，forwhenhehadcomeuptothepointwhencehehadstarted，hebeganapolicyofviolentshorttugs——not"jiggering，"asitiscalled，butplungingwithallhisweightontheline。Ihadcleanforgottentheslimnessofthetackle，and，ashewasclearlywellhooked，heldhimperhapstoohard。Onlyaveryrawbeginnerlikestotakehoursoverlandingafish。PerhapsIheldhimtootight:atallevents，afterafuriousplunge，backcametheline；thecastinglinehadsnappedatthetoplink。
　　Therewasnomoretobesaidordone，excepttohuntforanotherflyinthetroutfly-book。Heretherewasnosuchthing，butalocalspectatorofferedmeahugefly，morelikeagaff，andequippedwithalargeironeyeforattachingthegutto。WithalI
　　suspectthisweaponwasmeant，notforfairfishing，butfor"sniggling。"Now"sniggling"isaformofcold-bloodedpoaching。
　　Intheopenwater，ontheEttrick，youmayseehalfadozensnigglersbusy。Theyallwearhighwadingtrousers；theyareallarmedwithstiffsalmon-rodsandhugeflies。Theypushthelineandthetopjointsoftheroddeepintothewater，dragitalong，andthenbringthehookoutwithajerk。Oftenitsticksinthesideofasalmon，andinthismostunfairandunsportsmanlikewaythefreesportofhonestpeopleisruined，andfisharediminishedinnumber。Now，thebigflyMAYhavebeenanhonestcharacter，buthewassadlylikearake-hookindisguise。Hedidnotlookasifanfishcouldfancyhim。I，therefore，sentamessengeracrosstherivertobeg，buy，orborrowaflyat"TheNest。"Butthisprettycottageisnolongerthehomeofthefamousanglingclub，whichhasgoneamileortwoupthewaterandbuildedforitselfanewdwelling。Mymessengercamebackwithonesmallfatigued-lookingfly，aPopham，Ithink，whichhadbeenlentbysomeoneatafarm-
　　house。Thewaterwassoheavythatthesmallflyseemeduseless；
　　however，wefasteneditonasadropper，usingthesnigglerasthetrailfly；soexhaustedwereourresources，thatIhadtocutapieceofgutoffaminnowtackleandattachthesmallflytothat。
　　Thetinygutloopoftheflywasdreadfullyfrayed，andwithaheavyheartIbeganfishingagain。Myfriendontheoppositesidecalledoutthatbigfishwererisinginthebendofthestream，sothitherIwent，stumblingoverrocks，andcastingwithmuchdifficulty，asthehighovergrownbankspermitnobackwardsweepoftheline。Youareobligedtocastbyakindofforwardthrustofthearms，aknacknottobeacquiredinamoment。Isplashedawayawkwardly，butatlastmanagedtomakeastraight，cleancast。
　　Therewasaslightpull，suchasatroutgivesinmid-streamunderwater。Iraisedthepoint，andagainthereelsangaloudandgleefullyasthesalmonrusheddownthestreamfartherandfasterthanthefirst。Itisaverypleasantthingtohookasalmonwhenyouareallalone，asIwasthen——alonewithyourselfandtheGoddessofFishing。Thissalmon，justliketheother，nowcameback，andinstantlybegantheoldtacticsofheavyplungingtugs。
　　ButIknewthegutwassoundthistime，andasIfanciedhehadrisentothesniggler，Ihadnoanxietyaboutthetackleholding。
　　Onemoreplunge，andbackcamethelineasbefore。Hewasoff。
　　Onecouldhavesatdownandgnawedthereel。Whathadgonewrong？
　　Why，thebrutehadtakentheoldflyfromthefarmhouseandhadsnappedtheloopthatattachesthegut。Thelittleloopwasstillonthefragmentofminnowtacklewhichfastenedittothecast。
　　Therewasnomorechance，fortherewerenownomoreflies，exceptasmall"cobbery，"asea-troutflyfromtheSoundofMull。Itwastimeforustogo，withaheavyheartandabasketempty，exceptfortwoorthreemiserabletrout。Thelossofthosetwosalmon，whetherbigorlittlefish，wasnotthewholemisfortune。Allthechancesofthedayweregone，andseldomhavesalmonrisensofreely。Ihadnotbeencastinglongenoughtosmokehalfacigarette，whenIhookedeachofthosefish。Theyroseatflieswhichweretheexactoppositesofeachotherinsize，character，andcolour。Theywerereadytoriseatanythingbutthesniggler。
　　AndIhadnothingtoofferthem，absolutelynothingbiggerthanasmallred-spinnerfromtheTest。Onthatdayafisher，notfaroff，hookedninesalmonandlandedfourofthem，inonepool，I
　　neverhadsuchachancebefore；theheavyfloodandhighwindhadmadethesalmonas"silly"asperch。Onemighthavecaughthalfadozenofthegreatsturdyfellows，whomakealltrout，evensea-
　　trout，seemdespicableminnows。NextdayIfishedagaininthesamewater，withafriend。Iroseafish，butdidnothookit，andhelandedasmallone，fiveminutesafterwestarted，andweonlyhadoneotherrisealltherestoftheday。Probablyitwasnotdarkandwindyenough，butwhocanexplainthecapricesofsalmon？
　　Theonlycertainthingis，thatcarelessnessalwaysbringsmisfortune；thatifyourtackleisweakfishwillhookthemselvesondays，andinpartsofthewater，whereyouexpectednothing，andthenwillgoawaywithyourflyandyourcasting-lines。Fortuneneverforgives。Hewhoislazy，andtakesnotroublebecauseheexpectsnofish，willalwaysbemeetingheart-breakingadventures。
　　Oneshouldnevermakeahopelessorcarelesscast；badluckliesinwaitforthatkindofperformance。Thesearetheexperiencesthatembitteraman，astheyembitteredDeanSwift，who，oldandill，neglectedandinIrishexile，stillfeltthepangoflosingagreattroutwhenhewasaboy。Whatpleasureisthereinlandscapeandtraditionwhensuchaccidentsbefallyou？
　　ThesunupontheWeirdlawhill，InEttrick'svaleissinkingsweet。
　　ThereisafireofautumncolourinthetuftedwoodsthatembosomFernilea。"Botherthesettingsun，"wesay，andtheMaidofNeidpath，andthe"FlowersoftheForest，"andthememoriesofScottatAshiesteil，andofMuckleMou'dMeg，atElibank。Thesearefilmy，shadowypleasuresofthefancy，thesecannotministertothemindofhimwhohasbeen"broken"twice，whocannotresumethecontestforwantofammunition，andwhohasnotevenbroughtthecreature-comfortofaflask。SincethatwofuldayIhavelainonthebankandwatchedexcellentanglersskilfullyfloggingthebestofwater，andthatwaterfulloffish，withouthookingone。
　　Salmon-fishing，then，isamatterofchance，orofploddingpatience。Theywillriseononedayatalmostanyflybutthesniggler，howeverill-presentedtothem。Onadozenotherdaysnoflyandnoskillwillavailtotemptthem。Thesalmonisabrainlessbruteandthegrapesaresour!
　　Ifonlytheguthadheld，thissketchwouldhaveendedwithsentiment，andasunset，andthemusicofEttrick，themelodyofTweed。Inthegloamingwe'dberoaminghomeward，telling，perhaps，thestoryoftheghostseenbySirWalterScottnearAshiesteil，ordiscussingtheRomantreasurestillburiednearOakwoodTower，underaninscribedstonewhichmensawfiftyyearsago。OrwasitatreasureofMichaelScott's，wholivedatOakwood，saystradition？LetHardendigforHarden'sgear，itisnotformetogivehintsastoitswhereabouts。Afterallthatill-luck，tobebrief，oneisnotintheveinforlegendarylore，normemoriesofboyhood，norpoetry，norsunsets。Idonotbelievethatoneeverthinksofthelandscapeorofanythingelse，whilethereisachanceforafish，andnoabundanceoflocalromancecanatoneforanemptycreel。Poeticalfisherstrytomakepeoplebelievethesefallacies；perhapstheyimposeonthemselves；butifonewouldreallyenjoylandscape，oneshouldleave，notonlythefly-bookandthelanding-net，buttherodandreelathome。Andsofarewelltothedearestandfairestofallriversthatgoonearth，fairerthanEurotasorSicilianAnapuswithitssea-trout；farewell——forwhoknowshowlong？——tothered-fringedGleddis-wheel，therockoftheRigh-wheel，therushingfoamoftheGullets，thewoodlandbanksofCaddon-foot。
　　ThevalleysofEnglandarewide，Herriversrejoiceeveryone，Ingraceandinbeautytheyglide，Andwater-flowersfloatattheirside，Astheygleamintheraysofthesun。
　　Butwherearethespeedandthespray-
　　Thedarklakesthatwelterthemforth，Treeandheathnoddingovertheirway-
　　Therockandtheprecipicegrey，ThatbindthewildstreamsoftheNorth？
　　Well，both，aregood，thestreamsofnorthandsouth，buthewhohasgivenhishearttotheTweed，asdidTyro，inHomer，totheEnipeuswillneverchangehislove。
　　P。S——ThatGallowayfly——"TheButcherandLang"——hasbeenavenged。
　　Acopyofhim，onthelineofafriend，hasproveddeadlyontheTweed，killing，amongothervictims，asea-troutofthirteenpounds。
　　THEDOUBLEALIBI
　　GlenAlineisprobablytheloneliestplaceinthelonemoorlandsofWesternGalloway。Thecountryisentirelypastoral，andIfancythattheverypastureisbadenough。Stretchesofdeer-grassandling，rollingendlesslytothefeetofCairnsmureandthecircleoftheeasternhills，cannotbegoodfeedingfortheleastEpicureanofsheep，andsheepdonotcareforthelankandsourherbagebythesidesofthe"lanes，"asthehalf-stagnant，black，deep，andweedyburnsarecalledinthispartofthecountry。Thesceneryisnotunattractive，buttouristsneverwandertothesewasteswherenoinnsare，andeventheanglerseldomvisitsthem。Indeed，thefishingisnottobecalledgood，andthe"lanes，"which"seep，"astheScotchsay，throughmarshesandbeneathlowhillsides，arenotsuchexcellentcompanyasthegarrulousandbrawlingbrooksoftheBorderoroftheHighlands。Asthelanesflow，however，fromfar-
　　awaylochs，ithappensthatlargetroutmaketheirwayintothem——
　　troutwhich，ifhooked，offeragallantresistancebeforetheycanbehauledovertheweedsthatusuallylinethewatercourses。
　　Partlyforthesakeoftryingthiskindofangling，partlyfromatemporarydistasteforthepresenceofmenandwomen，partlyforthepurposeoffinishingaworkstyled"AHistoryoftheUnexplained，"IoncespentamonthinthesolitudesofGlenAline。
　　Istayedatthehouseofashepherdwho，thoughnotanunintelligentmanwasbynomeanspossessedofthemodernspirit。
　　Heandhisbrotherswainshadsturdilyandsuccessfullyresistedanattemptmadebytheschool-masteratavillagesomesevenmilesofftogetapostalserviceintheglenmorefrequentlythanonceaweek。Apostonceaweekwasoftenenoughforluckypeoplewhodidnotgetletterstwiceayear。Itwasnotmyshepherd，butanother，whooncecamewithhiswifetothevillage，afteratwelvemiles'