IN GREAT BRITAIN. 263 



The Felton lads are up, 



They're looking to their tackle ; 

 The sawmon's in the stream, 



And killing is the hackle. 

 If there's a feat to do, 



'Tis Weldon boys should do it ; 

 Then up and rig your gads, 



And to it, fishers, to it." 



A few years ago, Mr. Stoddart, of Kelso, published, in 

 an octavo volume, among other poetical productions, about 

 fifty songs on angling. We shall insert one of them. 



" Where torrents foam, 



While others roam 

 Among the yielding heather ; 

 Some river meek, 

 We'll forth and seek, 

 And lay our lines together. 



Some sylvan stream, 

 Where shade and gleam 

 Are blended with each other j 

 Below whose bank 

 The lilies rank 

 All humbler flowers ensmother. 



Where cushats coo 

 And ring-doves woo 

 The shining channel over, 

 From leafy larch 

 Or birchen arch 

 Their unmolested cover. 



