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The River Allan

This is a good stream for trout fishing; it enters the Forth below

Stirling, just above the town of Aloa. It has an extraordinary winding

course, flowing through a picturesque country, and famed in poetic lore

as "Allan's winding stream."

"On the banks of Allan water,

When the sweet spring time did fall,

Lived the miller's lovely daughter,

The fa
rest of them all.

For his bride a soldier sought her,

And a winning tongue had he;

On the banks of Allan's water,

There was none so gay as she."

Sea-trout and grilse run up the Allan in spring and autumn, which afford

good sport. The small trout flies in my list suit this river capitally.

A few miles above Stirling there is good fishing up to Loch Katrine,

commencing below the town of Dumblane, on the Scottish Central Line, and

fish up to "Callander," on the east of Ben Lomond. Dumblane is famed as

the birth place of "Charming Jessie," in Burns' poetic muse--

"The sun had gan' doun

O'er the lofty Ben Lomond,

And left the red clouds

To preside o'er the scene,

When lanely I stray'd in

The calm summer gla'ming,

To muse on sweet Jessie,

The flower of Dumblane."

There is another stream that runs down from "Aberfildy" to Stirling, in

which there is excellent trout fishing. It has a winding course, falling

over rocks, rushing through gorges, down precipices in its way, where it

forms deep holes for itself, which in the summer are the haunts of large

and fine trout.

The flies to suit it are, small dark hare's ears, small black hackles,

red and black ants, browns, small duns, and hare's ear and yellow, the

blue blow, the brown midge, and in the spring, the March brown, and

stone fly, for large fish.

There is a very nice stream running out of "Loch Lomond" into the river

Clyde, at the town of Dumbarton, in which there are sea-trout in the

spring and autumn. They take very small dun flies, silver greys and

black midges, the dark hare's ear, and red hackle.

The picturesque Loch Lomond affords good trout fishing along its

gravelly shores, and near the islands. There are two flies that kill

well in it, which are as follows: Black body and hackle, tip of silver,

wings of the short bronze feathers of the back of the peacock. No. 6

hook, or fff. The other one is, red body, red hackle, and a wing like

the first, both tailed with two fibres of the feather of the wings. I

received these two flies from a gentleman, one time when I was at

Glasgow, who confirmed them as "out-and-outers."

There are fish called Pullen, very numerous in Loch Lomond, the shape

and size of herrings, which are also numerous in Loch Neagh, in the

north of Ireland. They sell in Belfast as "fresh water herrings."

When a young man, I denominated Belfast my favorite home, among my dear

friends of the rod and gun. Newry, in the County of Down, was the home

of my ancestors. My first crying was behind "Cronebaun" hills, in the

County of Wicklow, near the "Ovoca," famed for "sweetness" and poetic

muse of Erin's humble bard, Tom Moore.

Looking over the Wicklow sands, where many a poor fisherman foundered,

in the village[G] of "Red Cross," was the first sight my "mama" got of

me; like a cloistered nun, I was covered in a veil, which, they say,

would always keep me from the "briny depths." Many "crosses" have I had

since January 14th, 1814, the "hard winter" which corresponds with that

of last year. Mature years of experience make wise men. Forty and one

summers having rolled over my head, the dishevelled ringlets of which

are now sprinkled with "honorable grey"--bashful man, hide your

blushes--my ruddy tint flies when I tell you, my dear anglers, that my

sincere desire is to love every good man, as God has taught me. There

is no one I despise, disposed at all times to revere superiors,

condescend to those who perchance may be my inferiors, continent to kind

friends, and forgiving to enemies, if any. Unless we profit by charity,

all other profit seems void.