Birds. 2843 



" The tourists know it not, it will remain 

 Unknown to them, but it is beautiful," 



and is endeared to us by a thousand recollections : we have 

 known it from a boy. Many a time from joyous youth up to sober 

 age, have we rambled by that sweet stream, and plied " the an- 

 gler's solitary trade," ensnaring the crimson-spotted, golden-sided 

 trout. But we must not be tempted to dwell on these charming re- 

 miniscences. Our present object is an attempt to describe a somewhat 

 singular character, whom we met with lately on a morning walk along 

 the road that skirts the aforesaid stream. We had stayed our steps 

 as usual, to contemplate with ever-new delight the various features 

 of the valley, when we observed moving down the stream, from just 

 opposite to where we stood, a certain individual, who, though not 

 strictly an angler, may be denominated a. fisher of the first magnitude. 

 We had not seen him till he moved, but he had seen us, and shifted 

 his position about a hundred yards down the brook, by the side of 

 which he again planted himself. We have known him long, but not 

 intimately, for he is of shy habits, and very chary of all familiar in- 

 tercourse. We could not but admire his handsome tall figure as he 

 stood on the bank of the stream, looking into it " as if he had been 

 conning a book." He was arrayed in his constant garb, a durable 

 sort of dress, the colour of dingy white, or rather approaching to a 

 pale blue : the cut or fashion of this costume he never changes, nor 

 does he often renew it; not oftener we believe than once a year, 

 when he gets a new suit. 



Your angler is somewhat of an enthusiast, and pursues his gentle 

 craft with an absorbing interest ; but then it is only as a pastime, and 

 at suitable seasons ; when the weather is favourable, when the spring 

 rains have raised the brooks, and dyed their waters with the precious 

 ale colour, and the wind breathes from the mild south ; — and yet after 

 all, alas ! how often does he return with an empty pannier. How 

 different with our hero ! His sport depends not on the fickle seasons, 

 at least he pursues it in all weathers ; in the bright sunshine, or when 

 the face of heaven is overhung with clouds ; in the hot days of 

 summer, or when the wind blows from the biting north, and the relent- 

 less frost has bound up the gentle streams in icy chains ; he is still at 

 his work, fishing — evermore fishing ! Indeed, it must be confessed 

 his very living depends upon it. How often have we pitied him in 

 winter, — in a severe winter. It is hard to live upon nothing but fish, 

 and moreover to have to catch them before you can dine ! It is hard, 

 indeed, to be confined to one dish and to have no other resource, for 



