ANGLING REMINISCENCES. 215 



Wandle. Nay, I said not so ; never was hand 

 more gory. But a truce, a truce, sweet Doctor 

 good, let forks wag before tongues. 



Swivel. Amen ! valiant sir. 



[After partaking of the bountiful repast provided by our 

 worthy landlady, Messrs Wandle-weir and Herl- 

 broke proceeded to amuse the club with an account 

 of their wanderings in the north. It is not, however, 

 within the province of these pages to enter into any 

 elaborate detail of the manifold incidents met with 

 by our intelligent brethren of the angle ; we find it 

 incumbent to offer nothing further than such portions 

 of their relation as have reference to the pastime daily 

 pursued by them among the least frequented of our 

 Highland lochs and rivers. To this purpose we shall 

 devote the following chapter.] 



