144 ANGLING REMINISCENCES. 



pounder run, Tom now, wind up like lightning, 

 he takes a somerset 



Otter. And is off ! hook and all no help ; my gut 

 tackle is single, and by some degrees too weak; I must 

 use it in plies, or run the risk of parting with every fish 

 which I may chance to fix. You need not stand idle, 

 Jack; lay on amongst them right and left; you are sure 

 to have hold of a fellow immediately, only use caution in 

 guiding him, and disturb the water as little as possible. 



Leister. I shall certainly keep on guard against 

 doing so. What plunges these monsters are taking ! 

 But there is no use throwing my fly over them, they 

 have not appetite for it at present, and are merely 

 diverting themselves ; yet there be some less capri- 

 cious spirits awaiting me underneath, which keep their 

 frolics in check until quickened by the taste of my 

 steel barb. One showed face at me this instant, and 

 leaves a vortex on the water behind him again he 

 has risen, and with no better result. I shall put on 

 a lively looking Irish fly in exchange for this dull 

 insect, and should it not ruffle his gorget, I abjure 

 further intermeddling with him. 



Otter. No mighty threat this, Jack. I have now 

 armed my line with a stout Maule-fly of moderate 

 size, and have no doubt it will banish the lethargy 

 out of some half-dormant epicure, and cause his flanks 

 to turn over magnificently on the gravel. Already 

 I have fastened on one of Neptune's ambassadors 

 to the river-gods, a splendid salmon, excelling the 



