164 A YEAR OP liberty; OB, 



fasMonable friends have shunned him in his difficulties. Helpless as 

 a log, slowly he yields to the steady strain of the line. Nearer, nearer, 

 nearer he conies. Silently and softly the gaff sinks under water, 

 ready for the moment when the victim shall pass over the ambushed 

 steel one single inch more hdbet. 



" He's a tidy little salmon, for the Moy, eh, Terry ? Not far off 

 111b." Whilst thus giving vent to his opinion, and expressing his 

 satisfaction, my companion grasps " the tidy little one " firmly above 

 the tail with his left hand, and prepares to administer a playful tap 

 over the occiput. 



" I wish I'd half a dozen of your brothers and sisters here ; I'd 

 serve *um just so there." A slight quiver passes over the silvery 

 mass, as it is laid under an oiled coat to keep off the sun. And so 

 this is death ! but where is the subtle essence the divine afflatus 

 called life ? Whither has it flown ? We had better leave that 

 question to wiser heads, and go on with our work. 



Terry was now less anxious to move than before nay, was positively 

 imwilling to stir, when, a few minutes later, a grilse was hooked and 

 lost ; so we again changed the flies, and in about half an hour 

 afterwards killed a pretty summer fish of 51b. 



Slowly dropping down between the bridges, the pole occasionally 

 checking our speed, we cast on either side as we proceeded ; but 

 finding the water too shallow, only fished it very lightly, thinking of 

 old times, when this beautiful stretch was crime de la creme ; and 

 thus we glided on till within a hundred yards of the "tanyard." 



*' That's what we call a line of battle," remarked Terry, indicating 

 the direction with the handle of his propeller, and, to judge from 

 appearances, the conflict was raging with great spirit. Moored in 

 line, at intervals of about five-and-twenty yards, were four boats, the 

 occupants of ihe second and last being each pleasantly engaged in a 

 death grapple with a salmon. Wisely determining to join our 

 countrymen against the common foe, we cast anchor at the correct 

 distance above the headmost cot, but ere the stone was on the 

 bottom our next neighbour also boarded a prize. No river, except 

 the Moy, could show a scene like this, five punts close together, and 



