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CHAPTER XIV. 

 ON SALMON-FISHING WITH THE FLY. 



" EVERY man to his taste." For my own part, I would 

 sooner hook, play, and capture a clean run April fish of 

 sixteen pounds weight than follow the best fox ever 

 tally-hoed out of cover, under guidance of old William- 

 son aye! or stalk the noblest pair of antlers reared in 

 Glen Tilt or Tor Achilty. And yet, I can understand, 

 and in some degree appreciate the enthusiasm of the 

 fox-hunter ; I can share the delight afforded by a good 

 meet in mild, open weather the assemblage of well- 

 appointed red coats and stalwart yeomen in front of 

 some old baronial residence hounds and horses, the 

 huntsman and the whippers-in, all mixed up with the 

 landscape life and joy depicted on every countenance 

 greetings and introductions passing jests and sport- 

 ing phrases on the wing: I can enjoy, in fancy, the ride to 

 covert the speedy finding of the fox the view halloo 

 the gallant burst the baying of the dogs the run, 

 spirited and brilliant, with its checks and hazards, its 

 hundred incidents ; and the death too of wicked old 

 reynard, remote in some sheltered nook, I can enjoy 

 even it. The height of mawkish affectation it would 

 be to do otherwise. What although he has thrown out 

 the whole pack of his pursuers, save a half dozen or so 

 of staunch old dogs, and thinned the field to a trio of 

 red coats, including the huntsman, he is but " varmint" 



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