136 ANGLING REMINISCENCES. 



pounder run, Tom now, wind up like lightning 1 , 

 he takes a somerset 



Otter. And is off! hook arid all no help; my 

 gut tackle is single, and by some degrees too weak ; 

 I must use it in plies, or run the risk of parting with 

 every fish which I may chance to fix. You need 

 not stand idle, Jack ; lay on amongst them right and 

 left ; you are sure to have hold of a fellow immedi- 

 ately, only use caution in guiding him, and disturb 

 the water as little as possible. 



Leister. I shall certainly keep on guard against 

 doing so. What plunges these monsters are taking ! 

 But there is no use throwing my fly over them, they 

 have not appetite for it at present, and are merely 

 diverting themselves ; yet there be some less capri- 

 cious spirits awaiting me underneath, which keep 

 their frolics in cfyeck until quickened by the taste of 

 my steel barb. One shewed face at me this in- 

 stant, and leaves a vortex on the water behind him 

 again he has risen, and with no better result. I 

 shall put on a lively looking Irish fly in exchange 

 for this dull insect, and should it not ruffle his gor* 

 get, I abjure further intermeddling with him. 



Otter. No mighty threat this, Jack. I have now 

 armed my line with a stout Maule-fly of moderate 

 size, and have no doubt it will banish the lethargy 

 out of some half-dormant epicure, and cause his flanks 

 to turn over magnificently on the gravel. Already 

 I have fastened on one of Neptune's ambassadors 

 to the river-gods, a splendid salmon, excelling the 



