ANGLING, &C. 



511 



being able to discover, to me, a new fish, by an Encyclopaedia (I forget 

 whose) in my father's library. It was a barbalus, or barholt, as inland 

 fishermen call it ; the largest I ever took, or heard of having been 

 taken, — weight 24^ ounces, — (not barbel). Speaking of fishing re- 

 calls to my mind an occurrence of by-gone years. I was trolling one 

 sunny day in a stream at the bottom of our own garden, a small ditch 

 or branch being between me and it ; all around was silent, excepting 

 the splash of some playful roach, or the plunge of a pike after its prey, 

 when my attention was arrested by the dabbling of something in the 

 ditch, then about four to six inches deep of water. It was our old 

 tortoiseshell cat quietly wading through it. She came and sat by me 

 for about ten minutes, probably in anticipation of a share ; but as I 

 did not pay the most courteous attention to her wants, she skulked 

 along the grass on the margin to a shallow, where young chub, roach, 

 and dace were basking themselves, or, as they seemed, sleeping. One, 

 larger than the numerous fry around, had sought rest still nearer the 

 bank, where the water was but a few inches deep ; the artful puss with 

 her prying eyes discovered it, stood, or rather set it for a few seconds, 

 then making a plunge seized it, and after some little scuffling in the 

 water, she bore off her prize, dabbling through the ditch as before, 

 and taking her prey, now out of danger from escape, to an arbour at the 

 bottom of the garden, she devoured it at her leisure. From the known 

 antipathy that cats have to water, I considered this a rather singular 

 anecdote in their history ; but I had often an opportunity of seeing her, 

 half drowned, bearing away the finny tribe, yet never saw but this 

 one exhibition of her prowess : the fish seemed to be about six ounces' 

 weight. She would also take the water rat from its native burrow, or 

 plunge into the stream after it and devour it. I never saw or heard of 

 another cat that would touch them. Her habits were invariably filthy : 

 no chastisement would correct them, though her skin was ever spotless. 

 Bred and nurtured contiguous to the water, and being but half domes- 

 ticated as it were (since she scarcely ever entered the house, excepting 

 to sleep before the kitchen fire on a winter's night ; in the summer 

 sleeping under the trees, in them, or some out-house), she felt no 

 dread in fording a stream, of which she probably knew the deeps and 

 shallows as well as I did myself. This history of a cat, perhaps, may 

 be more tedious to you to read than it is to me to write : but a scribbling 

 propensity I have is not easily overcome, therefore must entreat your 

 kindest construction upon my scrawl, resting assured I should not wish 

 to annoy, though ever happy in contributing to vour amusement. 



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