\'2ti TWO DAYS FLY-FISHING 



MR. PEEBLES' STORY OF HIMSELF. 



' I low oft and fruitless have I strove to move 



' Unfeeling beauty with the pang* of love ; 



' Heavens ! with what scorn you strove my suit to meet, 



1 Frown'd with your eyes, and spurn'd me with your feet.' 



WHEN you met me in London a few years ago, I 

 had become tired of its smoke and bustle, and 

 began to turn my attention to the blessings of a 

 country life. I accordingly bought a small estate 

 in this neighbourhood, having a sort of rustic 

 villa ujxm it, with stabling, out-houses, and plea- 

 sure gardens, and annexed to it the right of lish- 

 ing, as I had heard so much of the pleasures of ang- 

 ling, and been told that no one could enjoy the 

 country without it. Here for a short time I lived 

 in peace and perfect happiness. I turned myself 

 into a complete country gentleman. I made my- 

 self master of the corn laws, wore shorts and gaiters, 

 and brewed my own beer. But, alas ! these plea- 

 sures soon palled, and I was bored to the last 

 degree by the dull monotony of my rural existence, 

 and I sighed for the activity and bustle of my for- 



