110 SPRING-TIDE. 



" Miseries of Human Life/' Some thirty 

 years ago leather breeches were worn gene- 

 rally by the farmers, who, at market, when 

 reckoning up their accounts, took a pin from 

 their sleeve, and scratched the accounts on 

 their nether garments, worn as sleek and 

 shining as an old oak table. 



J. How the air swarms w r ith insects ! 

 The swallows must be gorged with them, 

 yet they still prolong the chase. 



S. They will soon give it up to the bat 

 and the night-hawk. You may hear the 

 latter in the twilight of yonder thicket 

 already, in fall cry after the moths which 

 the evening is tempting forth. By the by, 

 we are approaching the spot where an old 

 acquaintance of mine lies. I'll try him 

 with the cinnamon moth, a tempting morsel 

 to a large trout at this time of the day ; 

 but I must be wary, for he is one of the 

 cunningest fish in this stream, and has 

 actually broken away from two or three 



