teur part when he essayed to break
down the stern virtue of St. Anthony with temptations no stronger than
those over which the good Saint so easily triumphed. Had he clapped the
holy man down by the banks of a Border stream when fish were running in
the autumn, there might have been another tale to tell--that is, if a
close season had existed in mediaeval times. I trow we should have seen
St. Anthony nipping hot-foot over the hill, with the bosom of his monk's
gown protruding in a way at which no honest water-bailiff could possibly
have winked. Things as strange have happened in our own day; but maybe
they were due to that drop of reiver blood which courses more or less
swiftly through the veins of most Border folk, and which, now that there
are no cattle to "lift" from the English side, impels them for want of
better to lift from the water a salmon whenever opportunity may offer.

There was lately, it is said, a lady of ancient Border lineage, who sat
one day with a grown-up daughter in the library of her ancestral home.
It was the hunting season, and at intervals the two glanced anxiously
from the windows in full expectation of seeing the hounds sweep in full
cry over the fields of which the library commanded a view.

"They must be coming," cried the daughter, starting up. "There's one of
the stable-boys running over the lawn."

And, indeed, past the old trees a youth was to be seen skirting the
lawn, flying down terraces, making towards a burn which ran through the
grounds before joining a small tributary of Tweed. At best speed mother
and daughter followed the boy, who had halted excitedly by the burn
side. But what the cause of his agitation might be they could not for
the moment conjecture; certainly the burn had no apparent connection
with hunting, nor indeed was there sign of horse or hound. What they
found was something very different. A mile or so up the rivulet there
was a farm-steading, and in that steading was the usual water-driven
threshing-mill. It happened that this particular day had been selected
by the farmer as one on which he might advantageously thrash part of his
crop. Consequently, the water from his mill pond was now making a
temporary spate in the little stream, which, in the course of nature,
had caused many salmon to run their noses into the burn's unexplored
meanderings. When the two ladies reached the stream's bank, they found
the stable-lad up to his knees in the water, and a fish, not o