JULY 183 



' " Follow him, me lord ! " I cries, " follow him 's fast 's 

 ye can, or ye 're bate intirely," and away he goes, swear- 

 ing the way that should burn the beard off his face, only 

 he didn't carry one. Your honour sees that slidder of 

 rock beyant there ? Well, when his lordship came to that 

 spot the heels went from under him, he came slam on his 

 back, and stunned the point of his elbow ; the rod cracked 

 off at the first joint, and away went the lave of it down 

 the line to join the fish. His lordship was on his feet in 

 a moment ; but didn't the line break, and him left stand- 

 ing with the empty butt in his hand. There was an end 

 of the swearing, but he turned and gave me a look would 

 blister the paint on a new door. Then he up with the 

 broken rod, and the fine reel was on it, and flung them 

 both into the river as far as he could, and they away after 

 the great salmon.' 



Such was the fashion in which Paddy Rogan would run 

 on by the half-hour together, setting me to speculate upon 

 the reason for so great a difference between Irish and 

 Scottish gillies. It may be only skin-deep after all ; but 

 even so, what are the atmospheric, social, or other causes 

 which render the difference so universal and inevitable ? 



Other subjects for cogitation suggested themselves 

 during the frequent idle intervals in my sport, not un- 

 mixed with melancholy. It distresses one to behold the 

 sporting resources of Ireland run to waste. There is pro- 

 bably no other territory in the world which combines 

 within similar limits such natural advantages for angling, 

 shooting, and hunting, nor is there anywhere a native 

 population more keenly sympathetic with every descrip- 

 tion of field-sport. That sympathy which, rightly con- 

 trolled, would add an inestimable charm to the sportsman's 



