120 A YEAR OF LIBERTY ; OR, 



hand ; he looked pale, agitated, but determined. By the time 

 the last inch of line was off the wheel the butt was pointed in 

 the direction of the fish, and the top well over his shoulder, to 

 break, if possible, the force of the rush, by the elasticity of the 

 rod. This might have succeeded with a smaller fish, but would, 

 I felt, be useless here. It required his whole force to keep the 

 rod in the proper position. Twice the gallant salmon made 

 desperate charges, yet the good tackle stood ; a third succeeded. 

 By sheer force the rod was drawn into an horizontal direction, 

 and the line, an instant before tight as a harp string, flew loosely 

 upwards. The poor fellow turned an appealing look at the great 

 master. ' All the sons of men could not have helped it," he said, 

 soothingly; "man could not have played him better." Here was, 

 indeed, a downfall to my expectations. It was the only chance that 

 ever fell to my lot of achie\dng real greatness. I said not a word. 

 What my feelings were it is needless to say ; they may be more easily 

 imagined than described. It was no use grieving over a broken thread. 

 The casting line, composed of stout treble gut (with the exception of 

 a capital single thread on which the fly was tied), had luckily parted 

 in the middle, so the loss of tackle was nothing. Damages were soon 

 repaired, and the ''parson" was in a few minutes swimming 

 seducingly across the streams of the fourth and fifth arches. 

 ''Hooroo! that's something like. Murther! but he's missed it." 

 Scarcely had he spoken before the same fish turned at the brilliant 

 insect and took it. A furious run of eight or ten feet ended my 

 hopes ; the mouth had given way. Willie was in despair, Pat more 

 than ever convinced he had met " an evil eye," and that no luck 

 could fall to our share. His mind was disquieted ; thrice he enume- 

 rated every ill-favoured old lady of his acquaintance, and still was 

 unsatisfied ; he could fix with certainty on no one. Memory was 

 treacherous. Might he not have omitted an item in the reckoning ? 

 Possibly. And a fourth time the summing-up was recommenced 

 in hopes of a different result. 



" MoUy M'Gowan bad luck to her. But sure it wasn't her ; 

 didn't I bestow her a stone of praties not a month ago ? She wasn't 



