A BLANK FISHING DAY. I07 



CHAPTER XVI. 



A CIRCUMSTANCE to-day has given us considerable 

 uneasiness ; one of our best setters, who had been 

 observed to look rather dull yesterday, has refused his 

 food, and continues listless of what is passing around 

 him. He was a sprightly, active-minded dog, and his 

 torpidness is alarming. We promptly separated him 

 from his companions, and have chained him in an 

 adjoining cabin, under the especial observation of 

 old Antony. The otter-killer is preparing to use his 

 leech-craft, and I trust with good effect. Canine 

 madness is a frightful visitation, and no caution can 

 be too strict to guard against its melancholy conse- 

 quences. 



Who shall say that success in angling can be calcu- 

 lated upon with anything like certainty ? If a man 

 were gifted with the properties of a walking barometer, 

 the weather of this most capricious corner of the earth 

 would set his prognostics at defiance. Never did a 

 morning look more favourable ; it was just such a one 

 as an angler would swear by ; a grey, dark, sober, settled 

 sky, without any vexatious glare of threatening sun- 

 shine to interrupt his sport. The otter-killer was not 

 so sanguine of this happy promise of good weather as 

 we were. He observed certain little clouds, to which 

 he gave some Irish name. " The wind, too, had shifted 

 a point southerly since daybreak, and the pinkeens* 

 were jumping, as they always jump, when they expect 

 more water." We laughed at him ; but Antony was 

 right. 



* The usual name among the peasantry for samlets and trout fry. 



