172 AN ARGUMENT AND A WAG'jfill. 



tipodes, to prove that I belonged to a " thinking people, 11 

 I raised my voice in favour of the yellow pool. Our host in 

 dudgeon having premised that one of us was blind, and the 

 other a botch, declared by the shade of Walton, that on any 

 given day he would kill more than we both could produce 

 together. This, as every Irish argument ends in a duel or 

 bet, has terminated, fortunately, in the latter : and though the 

 wager be not so deep as Hamlet's " Barbary horses" to 

 " French rapiers, poniards, and their assigns," yet the 

 respective parties appear deeply interested in the result. To^ 

 morrow will decide the question, and settle the doubtful point 

 of scientific superiority between the rival artists. 



It strikes me forcibly, that among Irish anglers the doctrine 

 of meum et tuum is but indifferently understood. My kinsman 

 and the commander are constantly lamenting a loss of property, 

 and certainly they do not indulge in these jeremiads without 

 good reason. I never observe the Colonel's huge book 

 forgotten for a few minutes, but it is unmercifully plundered 

 by the host and if the key of the latter's fly- drawer can be 

 procured, the commander unlocks it without ceremony, and 

 having explored its arcana, adopts liberally such articles as find 

 favour in his sight. The housemaid has been suborned to 

 abstract the Colonel's casting-lines from his dormitory ; and, as 

 the host generally hides a favourite fly or two in the lining of 

 his hat, I never pass the hall without finding the commander 

 fumbling about the hat-stand. It was clearly stipulated and 

 understood that the flies with which to-morrow's match should 

 be decided, were to be bona fide the handy-work of the respec- 

 tive parties ; yet the colonel privately informs me that he has 

 despatched a trusty envoy to the priest, to implore that gifted 

 churchman to furnish him, sub sigillo, with a cast or two for 

 the occasion ; and the said envoy has covenanted to be at the 

 commander's window with an answer, "before a mother s soul 

 is stirring." 



The thunder-storm produced a considerable fresh in the 

 river, as the rain fell abundantly in the hills. The stream, 

 however, had sufficient time to clear after the flood, and we 

 found it in beautiful order. The wind is steady at north- 

 west ; and as the drafting has long since been discontinued, 

 and the wears lowered to permit the fish to enter from the sea 

 without obstruction, old Antony declares that, as a fishing-day, 

 nothing could be more favourable. We tossed for choice, and 



