74 AN ANGLER'S RAMBLES 



Hark to the music of the reel ! 



'Tis welcome, it is glorious ; 

 It wanders round the exultant wheel, 



Returning and victorious. 



v. 



A birr ! a whirr ! the salmon 's in, 



Upon the bank extended ; 

 The princely fish lies gasping slow, 

 His brilliant colours come and go, 

 Silver alternating with snow, 



All beautifully blended. 

 Hark to the music of the reel ! 



It murmurs and it closes ; 

 Silence falls on the conquering wheel, 



The wearied line reposes. 



VI. 



No birr ! no whirr ! the salmon 's ours : 



The noble fish, the thumper ! 

 Strike through his gill the ready gaff, 

 And bending homewards we shall quaff 



The overflowing bumper ! 

 Hark to the music of the reel ! 



We listen with devotion ; 

 There 's something in that circling wheel 



That stirs the heart's emotion ! 



I am led by my recollections of Perthshire, and the sport ob- 

 tained on its rivers, to Crieff, a village it used to be called, it is 

 now a town, which for salubrity, leaving for the moment its other 

 attractions undwelt on, is surpassed by none other in broad Scot- 

 land. Connected with this special feature may be mentioned 



