1 82 AN ANGLER'S RAMBLES 



fishing on the Devon and its vicinity bring to mind a friendship 

 formed with that most diffident but accomplished scholar, unam- 

 bitious but genuine poet, and amiable man, Professor Tennant, 

 author of Anster Fair. He was at that time, shortly before his 

 promotion to the Chair of Oriental Languages in the University 

 of St. Andrews, connected, as a classical teacher, with the Dollar 

 Academy, and the occupier of a snug retreat on the banks of the 

 Devon. Although labouring under a malformation of his lower 

 limbs, which debarred him completely from engaging in out of 

 door amusements, in his heart and its sympathies he was a 

 thorough sportsman. His eye kindled, there can be no question, 

 with enthusiasm at the bare mention of Homer and his heroes ; 

 but the same fire passed into and dilated it when the discourse 

 turned upon exercises in the field and by the river-side. It was 

 his declared joy to be transported out of the sober arm-chair, and 

 away from the weary crutch and dizzy folio, into those free 

 places which the eagle has not yet forsaken, where the stag lifts 

 its antlered head, and the salmon, schooled among the buffeting 

 waves of ocean, tries his strength with the cataract. All honour 

 to his memory ! 



THE LINNS OF GLEN-DEVON. 



i. 

 O 'ER the linns of Glen-Devon the dense wood hangs crowded, 



While unseen whirl the waters below ; 

 'Mid spray and thick foliage, an angler enshrouded, 



Waves his wand waves his wand to and fro. 



ii. 

 In the linns of Glen-Devon, from deep crevice stealing, 



The hungry trout watches his prey, 

 And when 'mid the white foam some stray fly lies wheeling, 



Slyly bears slyly bears it away. 



