17(> 



RAMBLES BY RIVERS. 



Providence are always found to be wonderfully applicable to such emer- 

 gencies, as I have endeavoured to shew; and setting aside all this, how 

 exquisitely graceful are all their movements; the slope of the foot cannot 

 possibly be calculated more aptly for elegance or firmness, the very shape 

 of the toes is incapable of improvement, and the whole considered either 

 as an indispensible appendage, or beautiful ornament, is like all other of 

 God's works, perfect in itself. 



Richmond Terrace, Westbourne Grove, July, 1858. 



RAMBLES BY RIVERS.— No. I. 



BY SAMUEL HANNAFORD, ESQ. 



THE MOORABOOL. 



"Hie gelidi fontes, hie mollia prata." — Vikg. 

 Here are cooling springs, — here grassy meads. 



We are a believer, to some considerable extent, in old Izaak Walton's 

 saying, and have found it as he did, to be a real truth, that the mere 

 sittiug by a river's side, is not only the quietest and fittest place for con- 

 templation, but will invite one to it. A Spanish writer, too, says that 

 "Rivers, and the inhabitants of the watery element, were made for wise 

 men to contemplate, and fools to pass by without contemplation." Now, 

 although we do not for one moment pretend that our rivers rival those 

 of Epirus, or Selarus, or the dancing waters of Elusuria, mentioned by our 

 quaint piscator, or even those by which we have strolled at night-fall in 

 the old country — the shrill scream of the Otter, the chorus of the Nightjar, 

 the plash of the Water Rat, the only sounds which disturbed the stillness, 

 save and except the rising now and then of a splendid trout to our 

 fly, (for a lover have we been too of the gentle craft, and a paper of 

 hackles even now brings up to our mind's eye all the old scenes,) still they 

 have their own beauties, and we will be their champion, enlarging, as we 

 deem worthy, on their merits or otherwise. Have you ever visited the 

 Moorabool, dear readers? If not, then take advantage of the first fine day 

 which offers itself, and away with you afoot to judge for yourself of the 

 natural charms of this much-maligned stream; — slow, and paltry, and slug- 

 gish we have heard it called, but to it nevertheless we went, for we are 

 not of those who are led away by popular prejudice, and there we beheld 

 enough to clear it ever, in our eyes at least, from the slur cast upon it. 

 Let us walk now to the bridge at Fyan's Ford, about two miles from 



