44 Fly-FiJhing. 



fell him at the firft farm-houfe I come acrofs. 

 Farmers aint fo nice as you gentry ; and a bit of 

 fifh though a trifle foft, and flabby-like, is no 

 bad relifh. 



Clericus. Surely that's not another of the brutes 

 you've juft hooked ? 



Old Soldier. No, no, not he ! Did you fee 

 that ? He jumped a yard, at leaft, out of the water. 



Clericus. What a glorious trout ! give way a 

 little, or he'll break you. There, now he's quieter. 

 What a {hake he gave ! Poor fellow, your race 

 is well-nigh run ! Where's the landing-net ? 



Old Soldier. Gently, fir, gently ! he faw you, 

 and now he's off again.* 



Clericus* Juft draw him round into this flack 

 water. There, now we have him. Not much 

 under two pounds, I mould fay ! 



Old Soldier. If anything, he's a trifle over. I 

 wifh you had hooked him though. 



Clericus. Oh ! you managed him fo beautifully, 

 that if I had a tafte for trolling, which I confefs 

 our fport this evening has not awakened within 

 me, a better leffbn I could not have learnt. A 

 quick eye, a tender, active hand, and an entire ab- 



* Nothing feems to revive a tired trout more than the 

 fight of a man with a landing-net. 



