The Wahpeton times., 1886-11-18
with the water up to his knees. till it

While Willie went away to get Jock
and his best jacket, we stood at the
blacksmith's door and watched the
sturdy burn-the-winds putting q red.
hot tire on new cart wheel, then
pouring q bucket Of water over it to
cool it and make it fresh. This was
always great fun to us.
By-and-by, back came Willie, dress.
ed for the occasion, and carrying the
great heron, precisely as a mother
carries her baby, only he could not
get it to keep its long legs doubled up,
which made matters look awkward.
Willie put Jock down at his feet. and
took snuff out Of a sheep.horn null,
and handed the box to us, and we ali
took snuff.
Our complement was now complete,
SO of we all went, whooping for joy,
along the road that led to the wood
through which the Den burn ran. And
after us-hop-hop-hopping, and
helping himself along with his wings
came daft Willie's heron in the most
ridiculous manner imaginable. No
wonder several people on the road
drew rein to gaze after US; we were
queer pack of sportsmen.
That dear old Den burn, as it used
to be in days OF yore; 1 fancy lean see
it now, even as write. Alas! thirty
years have fled since the date of this
little sketch, and the romance has fled
from the bonnie burn. 1t has been
improved out OF all its beauty.
But then-well, it rose in a peat
moss-a marshy, boggy, dismal swamp
through which it flowed silently and
sluggishly, and here we caught many
a lordly eel: Escaping at last, it
rushed merrily along the side OF
road, over a sandy, pebbly bottom,
bordered by long slips of watercress;
then it went off to the left, and be.
camethe marsh" betwixt my fathers
land and a neishboring farm. And
here even was a good guddling ground,
and many lusty trout l have haul
ed to bank from beneath the green
overhanging banks.
The Den burn went whipping away
through haughs and green meadows,
and under many a rustic bridge, till it
reached at last the dark and rocky
wooded glen OF Maidencraig. Here it's
waters feed those mill-dams, and turn
ed a monster mill wheel that seemed
always to roll round and round, night
and day; it's black wet sides glanclng
in the sunshine, or glittering when the
moon shone. Onward it dashed for
another mile and then flowed sullenly
past the foot of a gloomy pine-wood,
where, tradition alleged, more than
one falmer had been robbed and killed
while returning late t night from the
market; where mother had hanged
herself, and where, even in our day,
little Sammie Stuart, when looking for
birds nests, found murdered BARN.
Close by this wood was to be our
guddling ground to-day, nevertheless.
Little we cared for tradition. 1t
was lovely day-a day that would
have made all old man young again.
Spring was on the trees-spring was
everywhere. In the woodland gIades
the scented furze was all in golden
bloom; the feathery larches were green
green, and draped with little Grim
son tassels; while pink-white fingers
protruded from the twigets of the
dark and solemn pines. Spring was
in the hearts of the birds-the mellow
fluting merle, the saucy, mocking ma.
Wis, the modest sispin, the bold, bright
chatfie, the bonnie, wee rose-linnet
that sang on the thorn.
And spring was in our hearts, ay,
even in Jocks though the green heath
er was high enough almost to bury
him.
But here is the Den burn. 1t is
bright and clear, and not too full
just i'll fine condition for guddling.
And now my English reader will be
initiated into the mystery ofguddling;
that is, if he does not already know
what guddling is.
Oh goes every jacket; then our
sleeves are rolled up to the very
shoulders, and our trousers high up
over the knees. We are bare-legged,
bare-armed, and ready for action.
We begin by building a strong wall of
green turf, which we tear up from the
burns bank at each side of the stream
then we make q heap of extra big
turfs close to the burn, and dashing
them and beating them down, speedily
complete our dam.
Hurrah the burn Is almost dry be-
meath the dam; only in the pools the
water still abides, and into these 20
nearly all the trout. Beautiful yellow
trout, speekled with red!
We wade in the water; the two Will
lies wade, and Davy wades, and Jock
wades; Jock uses his bill; we thrust
our bare arms in under the green
banks, needless of eel bites, needless
OF the presence of ugly water rats. We
seize the trout by the round, slobbery
heads after working them into a cor
ner, and pitch them out on to the
bank. and laugh to see them leap and
dance, their bodies shimmering white
and golden in the sunshine.
Every fish that Jock catches he tries
to swallow, but Willie pulls them
away and casts them ashore.
Presently Jock gets a frog and
chokes on it. There is nothing stick
ing out but hind leg. However,
Willie lays hold of that and draws it
out, and cautions Jock, and the gud-
ding goes merrily on.
Never was finer sport on this earth.
I have fished all over the world since
then, but the memory of that after
moons guddling always will remain q
sunny one.
While we are guddling, all the mills
below us that depend on the Den burn
for driving power have to lie idle; of
course they have, but what care we.
The waters rise very high in the dam
at last, and over and over again we
have to strengthen it.
At last, however, we hear a shout
from Willie, and "skraigh" from the
heron, and we'll we know what it
means.
The 4 a m has huraf a,,d tho mo tora