SALMON ANGLING IN IRELAND. 18l 



it wore away, and somewhere near the small hours I either heard or 

 dreamed the following anecdote of " sporting extraordinary :" 



** Yesterday morning I sauntered from my quarters to the Bally- 

 shannon bridge, there to wait for the mail. Captain Joyce, a 

 remarkably heavy swell a new arrival since you left was at work 

 there, and, like other idlei-s, I halted to look on. At the tail of one 

 of the streams was an ancient Triton, uncommonly wide awake. 

 From time to time he rose to the surface, showed his monstrous 

 bulk, and then deliberately settled himself down in his former position. 

 These proceedings touched the Captain to the quick; fly after fly 

 had been put over him without any good results, and when I 

 arrived he had just selected a tried favourite from his hat, and was 

 in the act of making a final appeal to the astute old party. Amongst 

 other observers of these proceedings was the favourite Newfoundland 

 of the Justice, the terror of all petty larceny rogues, boys, cats, and 

 beggars. The animal had turned out for his usual morning prome- 

 nade, and was now reposing after his fatigue in the middle of the 

 road, sitting on his tail in a dignified attitude, sagaciously observing 

 all that was going on. A long cast was necessary. The heavy line 

 swept through the air, bagged, drooped, and stuck fast. The awful 

 yell that followed filled the Captain with dismay. Horror-struck at 

 such an untoward event (he was firmly persuaded he had hooked an 

 unfortunate tourist sketching on the parapet) the commander spun 

 round with a speed creditable even to a dancing dervish. ' Blood an 

 ounds!' screeched the mob in an ecstasy of delight, 'hark, hark to 

 the wheel !' It was indeed running at a fearful rate, for the dog 

 was hooked fast, and darting home at full speed. ' Stop him, stop 

 the horrid brute,' roared the perplexed angler, who might as well 

 have attempted a sotto voce conversation in a hurricane. Round the 

 comer rushed the affrighted Newfoundlander ; the heavy dragoon's 

 200yds. were nearly out ; but luck is everything. ' Hurroo, more 

 power to him ; here he comes again, hurroo, hurroo.' The crowd, 

 one and all, appeared seized simultaneously with a mania for 

 practising the skipping-rope ; now over, now here, now there, to 

 avoid the slack line, which was sweeping the dust in a way that 



