184 FISHING GOSSIP. 
beg to premise, that poking in the dark at the tail 
of a. weir or mill-dam, with a “blue-bottle” or 
“down-looker” wriggling in articulo mortis, is not 
exactly meant. No; that was not the vulgar dese- 
cration of the angling rites of old Nox which was 
practised in other days on the waters of the Lane or 
Bawn. The first-named of these Irish lakes will serve 
as well as any the purposes of illustration. I select 
it not for its great extent, for there are many larger ; 
nor for its beauty, for there are many fairer ; but for 
the fact of my having acquired there my first know- 
ledge of night-angling. It presented, however, all 
the requisites for this description of fishing in per- 
fection; and many of the local and traditional 
characteristics which give to its practice a colouring 
and zest. Every description of fishing-ground was 
represented by extensive sharps, winding shores, 
wooded islets, and reaches of water fringed with the 
purple bloom of the reed and bullrush. Of fairy 
lore and feats of enchantment, there was an abundant 
garnish to this, the romance, as it might be called, of 
angling. The waters themselves were but the tra- 
ditional evidence of the punishment of one of seven 
royal sisters submerged in the waves for the old 
offence of female curiosity. They were tenanted be- 
sides by many anomalous beings, which, under various 
forms, sometimes unceremoniously surprised maids 
that “loved the moon” and a twilight bath. Popular 
