Fly-FiJhing. 43 



ter fifh in feafon have I killed this year ; and that 

 I fuppofe made him fo flrong beyond his fize. 



Old Soldier. That's uncommon likely water ; 

 don't leave it, or you'll leave fome good fifh be- 

 hind you. 



Clerlcus. They don't come well at me. Jufl 

 try your hand at them. 



Well done ! you have hooked a monfter. 

 What a plunge he made ! Take care he doefn't 

 break you. 



Old Soldier. No fear of that. He's not a trout 

 after all, but a chub, if I miftake not, and a big 

 one too. He hangs as dead upon the line, as if 

 there was a ftone at the end of it. Pleafe, fir, 

 give us a hand with the landing-net, while I coax 

 him in clofe to the bank. All right, there he is ! 



Clericus. Why, what a gigantic brute ! To 

 fight fo little for his life too ! I proteft if the half- 

 pound trout didn't beat him hollow. 



Old Soldier. It's always the way with thefe rough 

 fifh. They make one tremendous ftruggle at firft, 

 and if they don't break you then, they turn fulky, 

 and foon give in. This fifh can't be fhort of two 

 pounds and a half, if not more. 



Clericus. I mould be very forry to tafte him. 



Old Soldier. Oh ! as for that, I mall moft likely 



