ANGLING REMINISCENCES. 51 



contrast, and so would even our friend, the Doctor, 

 allow, could we have prevailed upon him to quit 

 his close quarters for the fresh, kind air of heaven, 

 the fading landscape, and another bout at the river. 

 But let us put our tackle in readiness. I have an 

 eye after that calm, deep bend, a short way before 

 us, and shall first give it a trial with small moth 

 flies, and, when it becomes darker, use my famous 

 black beetle. 



Otter. Your famous black beetle, Jack ! Let 

 me see it. 



Leister. Here it is : merely a large ebon hackle, 

 twisted round a strong hook, and winged with raven 

 feather. 



Otter. As you say. But, I presume, you find it 

 killing on occasions ? 



Leister. Always during calm summer nights. 

 It takes the cunning out of an old trout amazingly. 

 These small moth-hooks are poor killers in compari- 

 son. However, as it is still twilight, I shall give 

 them the prior chance. You intend to confine your- 

 self to the minnow? 



Otter. I do ; and a dozen of the sweetest, sil- 

 very-sided little spinners have I gotten. They will 

 be the death of an equal number of goodly trout, or 

 I mistake my skill. Look you how transcendent- 

 ly this one is baited ; it will run to perfection. 



Leister. These water-coots destroy one's patience ; 

 what a lovely cast this had been, were it not broken 

 up by the flight of that bird. I noticed a large 



