THE ANGLER'S SOUVENIR. 



and now he darts to the surface. "Up wi taily," 

 what a leap ! it is well you humoured him by 

 dipping the top of your rod, or he would have gone 

 free. Again, and again ! These are the last efforts 

 of despair, and they have exhausted him. He is 

 seized with stupor, like a stout gentleman who has 

 suddenly exerted himself after dinner, or a boxer 

 who has just received a swinging blow on the 

 jugular. Draw him towards the shore, he can 

 scarcely move a fin. Quick the gaff is in his gills, 

 and now you have him out ; and as he lies stretched 

 on the pebbles, with his silver sides glancing in 

 the sun, you think you never caught a handsomer 

 fish in your life, though you perceive that you 

 have bean wrong in you estimate of his weight 

 thirty pounds for it is evident that he does not 

 weigh more than thirteen. It was exactly half -past 

 seven when you hooked him, and when you look at 

 your watch after landing him, you perceive that it 

 wants a quarter to nine, so that he has kept you in 

 exercise exactly an hour and a quarter. 



" Along the silver streams of Tweed 

 'Tis blythe the mimic fly to lead, 

 When to the hook the salmon springs, 

 And the line whistles through the rings 

 The boiling eddy see him try, 

 Then dashing from the current high, 

 Till watchful eye and cautious hand 

 Have led his wasted strength to land." 



Ill angling for salmon with a minnow a small 



