2 28 WATERSIDE SKETCHES. 



Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaif; 

 Believe a woman, or an epitaph ;" 



— as hope to deprive a trout of life on such an objectionable 

 fishing day as it in every respect was. 



But if only for the fun of the attempt we resolved to make 

 the best of the inevitable, and, donning our warmest ulsters, 

 departed on our eight mile drive to the river. Cowper 

 indited a quantity of interesting lines on " AAVinter's Walk 

 at Noon"; had I a Cowper's muse I might have sung the 

 charms of " A Winter's Ride at Morn." Not that the 

 captain, my genial host and companion, was of a poetical 

 turn of mind ; but he could handle the reins, and also the 

 whip, with the reservation that long familiarity with the fly rod 

 led him to impart an involuntary whipping motion to the 

 weapon, and make everlasting casts at the chestnut's ear. 

 The captain was not poetical, probably because it is not a 

 way they have in tli,e army, but he had a poet's love for the 

 beautiful, and uttered many neat remarks in praise of the 

 mountains along whose side we journeyed. 



Wales is rich in valleys, and that which lay beneath us was 

 perfect in all the features that should compose a clearly de- 

 fined vale. Never exceeding a mile in width, never toO' 

 narrow to obstruct the view, it stretched across from one 

 range of hills to another, level as a la\vn, and brightly green. 

 Down the middle flowed a trout stream ; farms and cottages, 

 like decorations on a courtier's bosom, shone in the 

 strengthening sun. It wound about under the hills enough 

 to give repeated changes of landscape, yet not abruptly to 

 spoil the gracefulness of the general idea, which was that of 

 a succession of sweeping vistas, leading to something still 

 more beautiful beyond. In the distance bolder summits than 



