THE ANGLER'S SOUVENIR. 



hundred yards its exceeding beauty grows upon us. 

 To say that it is indescribable would imply that it 

 is a folly to attempt to describe it ; but as the very 

 object of our article is to describe the Linn, that 

 "the old place may bring the old time back," we 

 will not say that it is indescribable, and we will 

 select a pen made of the quill of a wild goose, shot 

 in its upper portion, to aid us in our task. 



We have said that the Linn was a deep ravine, 

 through which there flowed a brawling burn. At 

 its entrance we passed into a larch wood, where the 

 air was laden with a sweet resinous odour, and the 

 light was mellowed by the " tender living light," 

 the pure and perfect green, the delicate shining 

 emerald of the fresh larch foliage. In the early 

 spring every one of these larches hangs out a brave 

 show of buds of the palest, lightest green, just like 

 the spray of a fountain, so ethereal do they look, 

 quivering in the sunlight ; but now the green is 

 fuller and deeper, but yet none the less bright and 

 fresh. Under foot there is little vegetation, but 

 the foot sinks deep in a brown coating of fir- 

 needles. Down on the left the brook brawls and 

 sparkles, sending quivering shafts of light up to us 

 from its myriad reflecting surfaces. A green wood- 

 pecker stiffens its tail against the bark of a tree, 

 and taps violently and resoundingly against the 

 wood ; and then we can see the long narrow tongue 

 shooting out and in, picking off the insects dis- 

 turbed by his " tapping at the door." 



