Sir Dumpbrg Bax>p 331 



with his friend Sir Humphry, falls foul of that pitiful 

 piece of molly-coddling, and declares that wading never 

 did any angler harm if he only took a stiff dram of 

 " right Nantz, Schiedam or Glenlivct." But Christopher 

 North lashes himself into a perfect fury of sardonic 

 indignation. After giving a category of the dullest 

 dinners known to man, he exclaims that not the worst 

 of them "can in intenscst stupidity one moment hope to 

 stand the most distant comparison with this ANGLER'S 

 DINNER, eaten on the banks of the Ewe, the emptier of 

 Loch Maree, by these four gentlemen, poets, physicians, 

 philosophers, and what not, from the far-off and mighty 

 London. 



At each successive and successful mouthful of the 

 curd, was each member of the club bound to say some- 

 thing wise or witty ; bound in duty, in honour, and in 

 gratitude. The perpetually recurring excitement and 

 assuagement of the palate, prolonged, as we must 

 believe, during ten hours at the very least for they 

 have been at work, walking, rowing, and angling, for 

 forty miles, and fourteen hours, at the lowest computa- 

 tion, without refreshment ought to have set all their 

 tongues a-wagging like the clappers of so many bells. 

 It was imperative upon them to scintillate to coruscate 

 to meteorize to make the natives positively believe 

 that a " new sun had risen on mid-day," and that the 

 22nd of June had that year been delayed till the 1 5th 

 of July. It was imperative on them to have drunk 

 for their own share a gallon of Glenlivet merely a 

 bottle a-piece, a quantity which, if taken moderately, 

 can, in the climate of Loch Maree, hurt not a hair 



