SPILLET-FISHING. 1 67 



whispering between the ambassador and Pattigo ; the 

 commander rejoices over his wardrobe ; my kinsman 

 looks " every inch a king " ; and I am probably the 

 happiest of all, for I trust that the pleasant narratives 

 which for two nights robbed me of my rest, like " the 

 thousand and one " of Scheherazade, have at last drawn 

 to a close. 



Did a man wish to moralise upon the unrealities of 

 human expectations, let him hang over a spillet, and be 

 interested in its success. Conceive an eternity of line 

 with a thousand hooks at given distances as every 

 snoud is placed a fathom apart, a person less conversant 

 with figures than Joe Hume may guess the total. This 

 endless continuity of hemp must be carefully taken up. 

 Do it slowly, and the thing is worse than a penance to 

 Lough Dergh ; and if you attempt rapidity, the odds are 

 that the back-line breaks, and a full hour will scarcely 

 remedy the mischief. 



It would puzzle a philosopher to determine the state 

 of affairs in ten-fathom water ; and if you shoot in foul 

 ground, you will probably lose the spillet, or with a 

 world of labour disentangle a moiety from rocks and 

 sea-weed. Should it, however, have escaped those 

 casualties, after a two hours' probation, while you listen 

 to a Drimindhu* from the skipper, and the exact state of 

 the herring-market from the crew, you proceed to raise 

 it. Up it comes that vibratory motion announces that 

 a fish is fast upon the snoud ; conjecture is busily at 

 work, and there is a difference of opinion, whether 

 " the deceived one " be a codling or red-gurnet. It 

 appears a worthless, rascally dog-fish ! A succession 

 of line comes in starfish, and " few and far between," 

 * A melancholy Irish ditty. 



