AND ANGLING SONGS. 371 



SONNET THE EDEN. 



THOMSON ! this quiet stream, the song of thought 



Oft in thy bosom rear'd ; and as I steal 



Along its banks, they to my gaze reveal 



The pictures by thy truthful pencil wrought. 



No rash intruder on the rural spot 



I feel, but in that glowing fervour share, 



Which on their page thy far-famed Seasons bear ; 



Nor honoured less is nature, nor less sought 



Her still retreats, while with my wand I fling 



O'er Eden's pools the well-dissembling fly, 



Creating in the mind's fantastic eye 



Castles of Indolence. The sudden spring 



Of a huge trout assails their air-built walls, 



And to the untrench'd earth each hollow fabric falls. 



THE PARR-STOCK OF TWEED AND ITS 

 TREATMENT. 



THAT the puny occupant of our salmon rivers represents in a 

 juvenile form the royal fish which is so highly prized at table, 

 and affords such exciting sport to the angler, is a well-ascertained 

 fact. Bearing in mind, however, that less than thirty years ago, 

 the opinion even of experienced fishermen was in direct contra- 

 diction to this view, and was backed by that of more than one 

 naturalist, we are not surprised that there are still amongst us, 

 and frequenting our river- sides, those who refuse to accept it. 

 Were we to judge, indeed, from the treatment which in its pan- 

 state the salmon receives at the hands of the anglers on Tweed- 



