SALMON ANGLINQ IN IRELAND. 245 



reading the names of O'Boyle, M'Swire, or O'Dogherty, impoverished 

 descendants, probably, of the savage chieftains who once did suit 

 and service to the O'Donnell. 



Donegal forms the north-western extremity of Ireland, and, taken 

 as a whole, is probably the wildest portion of the island. The 

 entire county is uneven and mountainous, and, with a few small 

 exceptions, is made up of lakes, streams, swamps, rock, and moor- 

 land ; in fact, it is just the region in which to wind up the latter 

 part of the season. As a general rule, small rivers are late rivers ; 

 for the fish, as if warned by traditionary experience, are not easily 

 seduced by early freshes, but hang about the coast till the autumn 

 and winter rains ensure them a safe ascent, time to deposit their 

 ova, and full power to return. 



In Donegal generally, the rivers are small and late, but as each 

 spate at this season brings up a good store of fresh salmon and 

 trout, the sportsman's pannier will not contain an undue proportion 

 of red fish or ill-made white trout, and therefore, as we said before, 

 this county is just the place in which to wind up the angling year. 

 We, however, shall not be able to follow the plan here recommended, 

 as we have promised an old friend to kill a fish in his company on 

 Wednesday, the 1st of November, in one of the mountain streams 

 of Kerry a great favourite of ours, where we have ended many a 

 season triumphantly. We have reached the end of September, 

 and on Monday, when we float on Lough Esk, the results will have 

 to- be chronicled under the date of October 2. 



The fish have now lost much of their excellence and more of their 

 beauty, and, with rare exceptions, are no longer the strong active 

 creatures they were in July and August. Nature shows, in short, 

 that the protective season should commence ; but, though compelled 

 to write this truth, the charm of following a brown and dashing 

 stream over the purple moor seems now greater than when, in breezy 

 March or scorching July, we trolled the lakes, or wandered along the 

 banks of the glorious Erne or prolific Moy. But, alasl mingled 

 with the pleasure comes a feeling of pain, that " the year of liberty" 

 is drawing to a close, and that a time of such exquisite happiness 



