22 ANGLERS' EVENINGS. 



clothes peg, would upset the whole conveyance, free 

 the quadruped from its encumbrance, and hurl you to 

 destruction. 



As we go along by portions of the river where angling 

 seems practicable, we make enquiry from our boy as to 

 whether we should be allowed to fish there, but are met 

 with an unintelligible sentence in which the word "Smith" 

 inevitably appears. After many tries, we discover that 

 Mr. Smith owns all the fishing hereabouts, but being 

 unable to use to his own rod more than a fiftieth part of it, 

 he is specially careful to keep the whole to himself. See, 

 there on the other side, is Madame Smith, the great man's 

 wife, fishing away like a man ; and after a time, we meet 

 an Englishman, with a salmon rod over his shoulder, 

 whom we take to be the greedy Smith himself, and who 

 gives us much inward satisfaction by informing us that he 

 has found the fishing very bad this year. 



Midway between the second and third stations is a 

 h'ttle village, Sseltun, where the river is owned for half a 

 mile or so by a native farmer. This length breaks up 

 Mr. Smith's preserve, which is both above and below 

 the village. The farmer is not far to seek ; there is a red 

 nightcap by the river side, bobbing about the rocks, 

 which is probably his. As we go down towards the red 

 beacon to enquire, we find the wearer of it busily engaged 

 in the capture of fish — I must not call it fishing. He is 

 stationed over a small but deep pool, a sort of by-wash 

 from the foaming, roaring torrent which the river here is, 

 and being protected by rocks which break the strength 

 of the current, there is a nice quiet eddy, where the 



