1 84 Salmon Fishing. 



Would that I had not thrown away those 

 hours of early life, when my kind-hearted old 

 drawing master used to pat me most affection- 

 ately on the head, as "his favourite pupil!" 

 " That boy will be a painter some day or other," 

 he would exclaim ! Not a ramble in a new 

 country, and within sight of my favourite river- 

 scenery, that does not bring back these words, 

 only the more to make me regret my past folly 

 of not persevering with the pencil. 



My stroll in question, I must confess, was 

 more for the sake of gratifying the eye, 

 than with any hope of hooking a salmon. 



One of the few likely pools, once, twice, 

 thrice, did the fly travel over, and not a nook 

 or cranny that it did not play round and about 

 for a moment, to try and captivate some 

 lurking beauty or other that lay in ambush 

 beneath. No ! as sweet a bit of water as ever 

 angler's eye gazed upon, and yet nothing 

 have I ever risen in it, save a sewin or two. 



" Now then for the run by the mill ; if I don't 



