411 



LOCH-FISHING. 



THE true angler is almost always a lover of nature ; if not, 

 he loses half the pleasure of his art. In following the river's 

 course, he must of necessity pass through the finest and most 

 varied scenery, and that, too, at a time when beauty crowns 

 the year. But, enchanting as are the woodland banks of the 

 quiet stream, there is to me a higher and yet more powerful 

 charm in the solitary wildness or savage grandeur of the 

 Highland loch. The very stillness of those bare hills and 

 craggy summits, broken only by the rushing of some rapid burn 

 that intersects them, has a tendency to elevate, while it calms 

 the mind ; and I envy not the man who could frequent such 

 scenes and not feel them. 



But if the proficient in the gentle craft has an eye equally 

 keen to the beauties so lavishly scattered around him, it 

 happens no less often that the admirer of nature's wildest 

 charms fancies himself an angler. Our man of taste has 

 perhaps fished a few rivers near him, in the spring, when 

 trout are lean and hungry ; and, having chosen a propitious 

 day, has sometimes returned with a tolerable creelful. He 

 then starts on his pleasure-tour, and of course his fishing-rod 

 forms an important accompaniment. At first he makes some 

 determined attacks upon the finny tribe ; but being gener- 

 ally unsuccessful, his rod is laid aside, and, after having 

 been delighted with the sublimities and beauties of half the 



