166 A YEAR OF LIBERTY ; OR, 



river would deserve all tlie praise bestowed on it. Bunree never 

 was in condition during any of my visits, so from personal experience 

 I am unable to offer any opinion concerning its merits, though I 

 believe that, if taken in time and tune, it would " discourse most 

 excellent music." 



After this we took one more out of the " Castle pool," and with 

 this ended our sport for the day ; no great matter to speak of in the 

 first week of July in such a stream as the Moy, but enough to show 

 that even an exceptional season like the present can afford occupa- 

 tion for the rod. 



To chronicle minutely the events of the five following days would 

 be an ungrateful task. The one recorded was neither the best nor 

 the worst of the series ; but feeding the mental appetite is a nice 

 operation. Give too little, and it becomes cross ; give too much and 

 it falls sick. Oh, believe me, the task is delicate, and requires tact. 

 Fortunately, in this class of dietetics we have one golden rule for 

 our guidance : never continue the employment of any one kind of 

 pabulum usque ad nauseam. In pursuance, therefore, of this maxim, 

 we will conclude with a description of our doings on this river one 

 July day, when the water was, as it always should he, in first-rate 

 order. 



Once upon a time, after spending a month on the Erne, I arrived 

 here in the middle of such rain as is seldom seen in July. Meadows 

 were flooded, fords impassable, bridges damaged, and the Moy in 

 such a state as had not been seen in summer for many years. My 

 diary shall tell the rest. 



"Will the water never be in order! "Without doubt there are 

 many things more agreeable than sauntering up and down a wretched 

 country town for a whole week. I have learned by rote the title- 

 page of every volume in the window of the circulating library, and 

 could cry, over the High-street, the address of every uncalled for 

 letter at the oflSce. I can tell the exact uumber of buns the baker 

 speculates in daily. I have counted as many as ninety-one beggars, 

 ere stepping from mere weariness, and shall remember to my dying 

 day the exact pattern of the red shawl in which the Belles of Ballina 



