ANGLING REMINISCENCES. 41 



Tim; that's good. Hurra! a mermaid! Give line, 

 Tim. Softly, boy, softly, lest you tear the lip ver- 

 milion, and mutilate the peachy complexion. What 

 a rare creature she is ! How she astonishes these 

 natives behind us with her languishing sky-blue 

 eyes, and light amber hair ! By the shade of Tobit! 

 we shall capture her, and feasten therewith the 

 palate of regal epicures ! Ha! saw you that bosom 

 with its twain huge semi-pearls ? How it rose up 

 luringly from the pool, and then vanished? Again! 

 and such a face of sorrow and superhuman anger 

 I never beheld. Her tresses are all dishevelled, her 

 features mangled ; and now, she dives down to her 

 rocks of coral, and, lute in hand, performs her death- 

 dirge. Hold tight, Tim, and keep her head down 

 with the stream. 



Hackle. Good, Doctor; the achievement is won- 

 derful. There is witchcraft in these crow-feathers 

 of yours most astonishing! Let this honest man 

 have a peep at your tackle. We may entrust him 

 with the secret. 



Swivel. Not for worlds ! I pray thee, keep the 

 clown at a distance. It becomes us not to counte- 

 nance his curiosity. Who or what is he, that the 

 renowned inventor of the mermaid-fly should suc- 

 cumb to instruct him ? Were he a brother of the 

 craft, like thyself, honest Hackle, one might be re- 

 duced to tolerate his intrusion. But not so, my 

 ancient chum ; he wants the distinctionary charac- 



