128 



THE ANGLER'S SOUVENIR. 



Too often, alas ! the power of indulging in such 

 reveries is wanting. The nerves are so keenly 

 strung from the high pressure to which they have 

 been subjected, that they cannot relax and rest 

 even for a moment, and the brain has been so 

 busy that it cannot throw off the habit of work. 

 In such a case, involuntary reverie and thought 

 such as we have described are impossible ; and 

 then, we who write, and many like us, we are 

 glad to say, step in to the rescue, and present 

 with friendly force to the rebellious brain the 

 soothing medicine of a picture in words. This is 

 our mission, to bring back to jaded hearts the 

 time when 



' The glad spring green grows luminous 

 With coming summer's golden glow, 

 And merry birds sing as they sang to us 

 In far-off seasons long ago." 



Then away to the Linn with us, and hey for a 

 merry day ! and a breath of the freshest air, and 

 a ramble by the bonniest burnside in the North 

 Country. 



There is the Linn, and at first sight there is 

 not much to see. A steep hillside, thickly covered 

 with heather, stretching up to the wild moorland 

 above, and broken into rocky ridges, is cleft by 

 a deep ravine, which appears to be filled to over- 

 flowing with trees and shrubs. From the foot of 

 the ravine and out of the dense underwood, a 

 stream steals rapidly away like a fox from a covert 



