r4o ANGLING REMINISCENCES. 



thy creel on thy back moreover ? Where is May- 

 fly ? 



Swivel. Saw you not how he fled, terror-struck, 

 at your approach ? 'Tis plain he is no hero. His 

 misapprehensions converted you into highwaymen, 

 and I doubt not he will have reached the inn by this 

 time, should these be its walls from which yonder 

 light proceeds. 



Otter. How, Doctor, still in search of your night's 

 shelter ? We thought to have found you snugly 

 seated by a good fire, merry about the face, and in 

 that sort of agreeable semi-slumber which refuses 

 all power of locomotion to him who is seized with it. 



Swivel. And you envied us mightily, Tom, no 

 doubt. Ah ! to your fancy, we came off easily, after 

 being thrice drenched, bogged, and bewildered. I 

 might fabricate a winter's-night tale out of our dis- 

 asters, did I so design ; but you are laden, like ele- 

 phants ha ! here is a salmon. 



Leister. Ay, and three grilses a salmo ferox, and 

 eleven sea-trout. These are only part of our day's 

 sport. The remainder, however, which we left at 

 Bunaw, were chiefly yellow-fry and finnocks. Our 

 salmo ferox, as you see, is on Otter's shoulders, and 

 weighs six been pounds. He is a rarely-formed fish, and 

 was taken with the Maule-fly at the outlet of Loch 

 Awe. But you shall have him to scrutinize at lei- 

 sure, when we reach the inn. How got you on at 

 the Etive, Doctor ? Did May-fly fulfil his vaunts ? 



