The Warner sun. (Warner, Brown Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1885-1???, 1886-11-12

On our way to Den burn, where we
intended to guddle, we met daft Willie
Wilson. Willie was a wheelwright-
or his brother was; for | don't suppose
he himself did agreat deal in that way.
| But Willie wasn't O fool, mind you.
| Not q bit OF it; only a little daft; he
wanted q featherin the wing, twopence
in the shilling-call it what you please;
only he was q very great tavorlte with
us boys. A boy himself at heart,
though he could not have been less
than 80, he sympathized with us IN
every way, and entered with heart and
| soul into all our games and all our
schemes.
"WiIlie," we said; will you go a
guddling? We're all going"
"To be sure l will" cried Willie, "and
so will Jock. And I'll put on my best
jacket too"
Jock, by-the-way, was tame heron
ia craigit heron'-so called from
the length of his neck, which you could
have tied q knot upon without put
ting the bird to much inconvenience.
A long-legged stupid, old bird he was,
who used to catch minnOws and trout
for himself till he muddled all the
stream, then go to sleep for an hour,
with the water up to his knees, TILL 1t
got clear again"
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 a red
hot tire on a new cart wheel, then
pouring a bucket of water over it to
cool it and make it fresh. This was
always greatfun 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 it's 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 all
took snuff.
Our complement was now complete,
so off 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 g.
queer pack of sportsmen.
That dear old Den burn, as it used
to be in days of yore; l fancy lean see
it now, even as | write. Alas! thirty
years have fled since the date of this
little sketch, and theromance has fed
from the bonnie burn. 1t has been
improved out of all it's 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 q
road, over a sandy, pebbly bottom,
bordered by long slips of watercress;
then it went off TO the left, and be-
camethe marsh betwixt myfather's
land and a neighboring farm. And
here even was a good guddling ground,
and many a lusty trout | 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 glancine
in the sunshine, or glittering when the
moon shone. Onward it dashed fol
another mile and then flowed sullenly
past the foot of q gloomy pine-wood
where, tradition alleged, more thar
one farmer had been robbed and killed
while returning late at night from tn,
market; where a mother had hanged
herself, and where, even in our day
little Sammie Stuart, when lookingfol
birds nests, found a murdered BARN
Close by this wood was to be oul
guddling ground to-day, nevertheless
Little we cared for tradition. i
was a lovely day-a day that would
have made an old man young again
Spring was on the trees-spring wa,
everywhere. In the woodland gladeI
the scented furze was all in COLDER
bloom; the feathery larches were greer
green, and draped with little Grim
son tassels; while pink-white finger
~protruded from the twiglets of tn,
dark and solemn pines. Spring wa
in the hearts Of the hirds--the melloy
fluting merle, the saucy, knocking ma
Wis, the modest sispin, the bold, brigh
chafie, the bonnie, wee rose-linne
that sang on the thorn.
And spring was In our hearts, ay
even in Jocks though the green heath
or was high enough almost to bur,
him.
But here is the Den burn. 1t j
bright and clear, and not too full
just i'll fine condition for guddling.
And now my English reader will b