Fly-FiJhmg. 119 



haunts the flreams how impoffible ! Of the 

 infinite variety of founds that fall upon the ear, 

 there is fcarcely one that is not very welcome. 

 The language of the bufy animal world, if not 

 quite fo intelligible as that of our own fpecies, is 

 almoft invariably pitched in a key that is mufical 

 to the ear. Befides, there is no cry of pain, no 

 wailing of diftrefs, no murmur of ingratitude ! 

 On the contrary, from the hum of the infect 

 ephemera, whofe little fpan is confined to the 

 continuance of a fmgle day's funfhine, to the wild 

 whittle of the blackbird, and laughter of the large 

 wood-pecker, in his gorgeous garb of green, with- 

 out the aid of the linguift to interpret their exact 

 language, we can learn enough of it to under- 

 ftand that it is the eloquent, though humble expref- 

 fion of happinefs. And what heart can remain 

 for a moment unmoved by fuch melody, without 

 cordially fympathifmg in concord with it ? 



On the day in queftion I found myfelf by the 

 fide of the Monnow, one of the moft inviting- 

 looking rivers (the Teme, near Leintwardine, ex- 

 cepted) that it has ever been my good fortune to 

 throw a fly on. 



The very firft ftream I came to quite veri- 

 fied my late companion's words, and delighted 



