74 ANGLING REMINISCENCES. 



guitarists, organists, bellmen, and bagpipers all are 

 mad ; and so, too, are your glee-singers and stage 

 vocalists your choristers and anthem-boys your 

 lion-throated men and rat-throated females. They 

 deem the lungs to be the throne of the intellect, 

 and reduce humanity to a level with cage-birds ! 



Leister. Hold, infatuated barbarian, despiser of 

 the usages of social life ! Thou hast an ear of iron 

 and a heart of the same metal. that I could 

 wring thee as a sponge, or melt thee like lead at 

 the forge ! What ! have the tears never issued 

 from under those eyebrows when a dulcet melody 

 stole into thy presence a gush of sad, kind sounds, 

 like the shaking of flowers or the blending of sum- 

 mer rainbows ? Have thy thoughts never been 

 drawn from their dull, ordinary channels, by the 

 notes of a sweet air awakened, whether on minstrel's 

 instrument, or flowing through the lips of some 

 loved enchantress ? What ! do not the martial and 

 naval anthems of Old England arouse the patriotic 

 spirit within thee ? or art thou charmed never, nor 

 yet subdued by the likenesses of joy, truth, and 

 sorrow, embodied in our national harmonies ? Art 

 thou deaf as the adder, Doctor, and perverse as the 

 he-bear ? 



Swivel. Go on, go on, I pray thee nay, go on, 

 go on, Jack do not draw up so hastily ! 'Tis a 

 prime gallop thou art at. Scarcely can I eye thee, 

 but thou art past my post, Master Leister, and con- 



