268 BY THE RIVER. 



The " opportunity " came. A wet day, a day 

 of warm rain with occasional outbursts of sun- 

 shine. This Bride is a very picturesque river. 

 It runs through a vale bordered' with rich 

 meadows, from whose far edges the hills slope, , 

 the hills crowned with groves of Irish fir, in the 

 midst of which you catch interval glimpses of 

 white farmhouses. By the stream there are 

 numerous old castles of the Cromwellian period, 

 grey and battered, and ivy-covered. Under 

 the walls of one I hooked a four-pounder, and 

 had some tough work to land him. Sam and 

 I had splendid sport on the "good day;" the 

 trout did not run very large, but the average 

 size was very satisfactory. At the luncheon 

 hour we sat on a block of masonry from the 

 dismantled tower of the Saxon fortress, and 

 Sam pointed to spots in the landscape, where 

 the Bride flowed, and where he had killed fish 

 of astonishing proportions. 



With Sam on the Bride in August, after sun- 

 down. When we move our rods over the 

 stream the flush has faded from the pools and 

 reaches, the dusk steals away, one by one, tree 

 and castle and hill from view, and lights begin 



