being quite so near the agonies of the expiring salmon, as they lay flapping about in the boat, which they moistened with their blood.  He therefore requested to be put ashore, and, from the top of a heugh or broken bank, enjoyed the scene much more to his satisfaction.  Often he thought of his friend Dudley the artist, when he observed the effect produced by the strong red glare on the romantic banks under which the boat glided.  Now the light diminished to a distant star that seemed to twinkle on the waters, like those which, according to the legends of the country, the water-kelpy sends for the purpose of indicating the watery grave of his victims.  Then it advanced nearer, brightening and enlarging as it again approached, till the broad flickering flame rendered bank and rock and tree visible as it passed, tingeing them with its own red glare of dusky light, and resigning them gradually to darkness, or to pale moonlight, as it receded.  By this light also were seen the figures in the boat, now holding high their weapons, now stooping to strike, now standing upright, bronzed by the same red glare into a colour which might have befitted the regions of Pandemonium.

Having amused himself for some time with these effects of light and shadow, Brown strolled homewards towards the farm-house, gazing in his way at the persons engaged in the sport, two or three of whom are generally kept together, one holding the torch, the others with their spears, ready to avail themselves of the light it affords to strike their prey.  As he observed one man struggling with a very weighty salmon which he had speared, but was unable completely to raise from the water, Brown advanced close to the bank to see the issue of his exertions.  The man who held the torch in this instance was the huntsman, whose sulky demeanour Brown had already noticed with surprise.  ’Come here, sir! come here, sir! look at this ane!  He turns up a side like a sow.’  Such was the cry from the assistants when some of them observed Brown advancing.

’Ground the waster weel, man! ground the waster weel!  Haud him down!  Ye haena the pith o’ a cat!’ were the cries of advice, encouragement, and expostulation from those who were on the bank to the sportsman engaged with the salmon, who stood up to his middle in water, jingling among broken ice, struggling against the force of the fish and the strength of the current, and dubious in what manner he should attempt to secure his booty.  As Brown came to the edge of the bank, he called out—­’Hold up your torch, friend huntsman!’ for he had already distinguished his dusky features by the strong light cast upon them by the blaze.  But the fellow no sooner heard his voice, and saw, or rather concluded, it was Brown who approached him, than, instead of advancing his light, he let it drop, as if accidentally, into the water.

‘The deil’s in Gabriel!’ said the spearman, as the fragments of glowing wood floated half-blazing, half-sparkling, but soon extinguished, down the stream.  ’The deil’s in the man!  I’ll never master him without the light; and a braver kipper, could I but land him, never reisted abune a pair o’ cleeks.’[Footnote:  See Note 4] Some dashed into the water to lend their assistance, and the fish, which was afterwards found to weigh nearly thirty pounds, was landed in safety.