THE RIVER-SIDE. 37 



surface for food. Throw a long, light line, and carry 

 your flies clear of yonder bush, bringing them in on 

 this side of the rapid water, and allowing the trailler 

 to sink a little, while you move them slowly towards 

 you. Strike there is a fish ! 



Otter. No less than a couple, and both at your 

 beck ; but they are par, small, weak and trashy. 

 Throw them in again, Bill. 



May. Why so ? Are they not somewhat, and of 

 manifest account ? They will swell the contents of 

 my creel to boot. I will e'en retain them. 



Leister. As you choose, but do not magnify their 

 dimensions alarmingly, lest the truth creep out in the 

 end. I have known some anglers who turn minnows 

 into whales by the magic of a bounce ; others that 

 have the knack of multiplying one into a dozen, and 

 so forth. It is wiser, however, to be honest in such 

 matters at the first. The braggart, after a stroke or two, 

 is soon detected, and loses generally all his credit at 

 once. Did you ever hear of Eory, the black liar ? 



May. A strong epithet ! 



Leister. It is a Gaelic one, given to a poor wretch 

 who lives in one of the most miserable of Highland 

 villages in the north of Scotland. This man's mother 

 was a coiner of scandalous stories for the district. 

 Her mouth was eternally foaming falsehoods and 

 exciting mischief. She ruined more reputations 

 with her tongue than an army of cold-blooded 

 villains, giving rise, besides, to petty feuds and 



