STACK ANNEX 0^3 1 »b ^-.-r ■<" t< <« ' Ccc C CCCC /^-*^ <3ac^i^^M '»<&0^' ^^^ p. 37 A DAY'S ANGLING ON THE ALMOND BY FEANK FAYLE --^iSr^J^Sfe-^^^^^-^ EDINBURGH JAMES S. MUIR, 60 NEW BUILDINGS GLASGOW: THOMAS MURRAY AND SON t^ Cotttents. PAGE HOW WE SET ABOUT IT, 7 HOW NOT TO DO IT, H HOW TO DO IT, 19 now WE DID IT, 25 HOW ROGER DID IT, 41 HOW IT DID ROGER, 47 2067G3? A DAY'S ANGLING ON THE ALMOND. ^0fo kt ^ti about |t» iN the first page of our fly-book is a list of articles which we invariably and carefully consult previous to leaving home — a custom ^ we would recommend every angler to adopt, and that has saved us many disappoint- ments ; for how often, in prospect and in fact, is a day's enjoyment marred by the feeling which prompts the exclamation — "I've forgot my !" No matter what, or how trifling the article left behind us may be, the consciousness that it is not there, and the conviction, amounting to a certainty, that we would be much more happy A DAY'S ANGLING liad we liad it with us, is often sufficient to keep us entirely unhappy all day. Our list stands thus : Rod. Basket. Reel and Line. Cord. Flies. Flask. Bait. Pipe. Bait Tackle. Tabac. Float. Fusees. "Two thirds for Ratho !" The hour is 6.30 a.m. — the day Tuesday — the month June — and the scene the terminus of the Edinburgh and Glasgow Railway. A considerable rain-fall had occurred on the Sunday previous, and an opportunity for a liberty-day, which we determined to avail ourselves of and devote to our favourite amusement. But do not suppose that we arrived at our station so easily as this abrupt announcement would lead many to believe — not at all. From a stand-at-ease position, the force of circumstances behind gradually squeezed us into a rather confined one ; and it was with no little difficulty we at last got a glimpse of the dispenser of tickets, and that between the fiery whiskers of a farmer-looking party, the be-devilled tile of an alarmed young gent, and over the crushed ON THE ALMOND. bonnet of a strong-minded female. Throwing down a half-crown, back came ticket and change with a rapidity that would startle any one who did'nt know the clerk had a " kalkilating machine in his pocket ;" which piece of information we heard given by a youth in volunteer uniform to a pretty girl under his escort — startled as above — and are sure no coiTection of "hat" for "pocket" occurred in our hearing. But truly the rapidity with which these clerks calculate the amount of fares and half-fares, change and all, is astonishing. " Here you are, sir," says a grim-looking giant — with abundance of silver lace, beard, and patent leather on his person — and there we were, with our rod between our knees, and ourselves between our friend Roger and the pretty girl who received the timeous hint about mechanical calculation, with her embryo warrior opposite — "eyes front." We anticipated a very pleasant journey in such company. Jolt — jolt — ^jolt — and slowly emerging from beneath the arches of the E. & G. Railway, heralded by those peculiar snorts which locomotives 2vill give, and which some people persist have an asthmatical similitude, but which are more like — taking the noises altogether — the hoarse Laughs of A DAY'S ANGLING some grim demon bearing off his unconscious freight to his "own" — his "native land," — we soon get into the regular or irregular rot-et-tot motion peculiar to rails and railway travelling in general. Dash into darkness — into the sunlight again — and we are fairly away. A shrill whistle from the front, and a perceptible diminution takes place in our speed—" PHiNE— STORPHINE— CORSTORPHINE !" " is the cry." Doors arc slammed, bells rung, and again we are in motion. Trees and telegraph posts dash past at an appalling rate, and after one more stoppage, we hear some one calling hoarsely — EATH-A !' 0\ THE ALMOXD. ->- II. IJolii |lot to po |t. ISrCrLIXG with a barbed hook, partially oovoretl with feathers, haii\ worsted, or silk, dia\m from one thousimd-aiid-one different ^ sources — attached, of course, to the ortho- dox rod, reel, and line — is now the most popular, as it is certaiuly the most cleanly method of luring from their liquid haunts the more rapacious of the finny tribes. It is more manly — ^more near the generally receired impression couTeyed by the term "sjx^rt" — than any other manner of taking trout Therv is, iiowever, a great deal of ridiculous nons^nsig in the directions giren by bookmakers on the sailed of Fly-fishing. They recomm^d their readers to use such singular materials fcr thdr %- dressing— «end them to such oalrof4lie-v»j scNinses — hind them down by such striogmt and absmd i«^ati«»is, tharit, w«re it nc* that we see so many t9U2k]eHniak«is^ by homouring their weafen^^e^. A DAY'S ANGLING thriving on these notions, one would be inclined to consider the whole affair an excellent joke. AVhen you are bid pluck the "whiskers" from your favourite " black torn cat," get the " hair from the tail of a brent coiv,'^ or that from " the skin of an abortive calf" — does it not read like a very good joke indeed 1 Nor do they confine their demands to the possessions of creatures indigenous to the British Isles. We are told of the eflScacy of the hair and the infallibility of the feathers of beasts and birds which are known to us only by name, or to be seen the inmates of a menagerie, in a condi- tion so truly melancholy and so utterly dilapidated, that to borrow or steal from their respective coats, would certainly warrant the intervention of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. Particular flies are recommended for particular seasons, streams, channels, depths of water, states of atmosphere, quarters of wind. Should you proceed to any particular locality indicated, attend to the states of atmosphere and water, pursue the same system, using the flies to suit — all as re- commended by the individual you have preferred as your instructor — so infallible will those flies have proved themselves, that not one fish will ON THE ALMOND. your predecessor have left you to prove liis words : all wlio possessed the very peculiar taste evmced by his alleged success^ haviug accompanied him homeward when last he bestowed upon the stream the honour of his presence : and those now darting upwards — their broad, brawny sides glittering silverlike in the setting sunlight — are evidently of a race "who knew not Joseph." Were we to abide by the strict letter of these instructions, moreover, not one foot of the stream con Id possibly be properly tested. Every trifling current, every passing breeze, every perceptible curl on the stream would have to be tampered with ; or the ever-varying depth, the breadth of the channel, and the nature of its bottom, would have to be consulted every five minutes with consider- able accuracy ; and as the appearance of the lure must vary in colour and proportions with each and all of these conditions — a blessed day would be spent in vain endeavours to reduce a preposterous theory to common practice. The flies recommended by these gentlemen have doubtless proved eminently successful in their hands ; but we beg to suggest, that were they as proficient in their craft as they would have us be- A DAY'S ANGLING lieve, any other flies, bearing a reasonable pro- portion in size to. the known capabilities of the stream, would have done as well — perhaps better ! Besides, did ever two anglers agree on the superior merits of any particular fly? If one, should be asked, he will most likely say, " Ah ! it is very good ; but this is the best," — and forthwith open- ing his book, he shows you something you probably never saw before, nor ever will likely again. One word more on the structure of the flies. In spite of what may be said about their shape — the truer they are to nature the better. Trout, perhaps, are not so well versed in entomology as those who have spent a lifetime in its study, but a trout of two ounces is pretty well aware that a mayfly is not a mudlark. We think, besides, if a fly is to be imitated at all, it should be made a size larger than nature, as where there are plenty of natural insects, the advent of a bulkier one may decide the wavering resolution of some lazy fellow who is eyeing them saucily from below ; for trouts are as anxious to get as much as possible with the least trouble as other folks. As showing still further the absurdity of prepos- session in favour of certain flies, we may state that ON THE ALMOND. we know a worthy cobbler, enjoying in Kirkliston the monoj^oly in his own peculiar branch of trade, and the celebrity of being the most successful angler on the Almond, who, on account of its distance rarely having the opportunity of choosing his tackle ill town, entrusts his piscatorial commands to a jolly waggoner — with about as much knowledge of angling as aerostatics — who purchases in "Embra" for his confrere^ " a shullin's worth o' flees," with- out being hindered by any restriction as to kind. Also our friend P.P. — whom everybody knows and who knows everybody ; who sleeps in a pannier and dreams of trout ; who treats his flies and five- pound notes with equal care ; whose realm is water and subjects fish — P.P., who frequently in our presence, has exchanged his trusty wand — the magic flourish of which seemed to charm from their senses the finny tenants of the stream — with a less successful brother, without in any v/ay altering or imiDroving their respective positions — P.P. has a thorough contempt for this doctrine. No ! no ! do not believe it ! There is a good deal of bosh, bookmaking, and banter about it ! You'll find one great authority saying, " Make your flies like those on the stream," and another bidding A DAY'S ANGLING you do exactly the reverse, No ! no ! it's the MANNER of giving more than the apparent intrinsic worth of the article given, that warms the heart, excites the confidence, and disarms the suspicions of the recipient ! If you go on thrashing the water, swish — swish — swish — cutting the air, and beheading every green thing within a circle of some six-and-thirty feet, working the sober stream into a state of the most violent fermentation, and thrusting your gaudy tinselled morsel into their eyes, with something of a "take-it-or-leave-it-you- rascal" manner in your casts — is it at all probable that such a wary, wide-awake feeder as a fresh- water trout, will snatch at it with gratefulness 1 No ! no ! it's the giving — the manner of giving — that leads to success. But we will suppose you have at length acquired sufficient sleight of hand to convince a fishy eye that your mounted barb is a natural insect — species unknown, and are an adept at prevailing upon fish to seize it : believe us, however, there is a deal to be cared for before it reaches your basket. After having allowed the fish to seize your dainty, you must not think that you have done all that the circumstances warrant. It is ox THE ALMOND. 17 often au encouragement to the tyro, as some adept probably steps up saying, "Ali, young fellow, that's a capital rise!" Yes, a "rise" at your expense ! Did it never strike you, after hearing a significant splash in the vicinity of the region where your flies ought to be, in the midst of your surprise that no tug followed, that your dainty morsel had been in the maw of the fish — in that very position you have, for some hours, been inwardly praying for — while you for the moment were unconsciously idle ? Such is the fact, how- ever. Salmon-roe, minnow, and worm, are some- what different in their physical construction from "flies" — those delicate fabrics that flit, almost invisible, o'er the sunny stream. Trouts take flies as we take lozenges — turning them over and over in their mouths, and sucking the delicious morsel as long as a vestige of it remains ! Not so with the worm : lie takes it as we take physic — at a gulp : so that generally, in the latter case, if the line holds, he is a dead trout. In the case of the fly, while he is turning over the tempting morsel, and you are ogling the girl milking in the next field, or dreamily gazing on the distant mountains — there is a probability of A DAY'S ANGLING his becoming aware that something more than "flesh, bones, and blood" form its components. We say there is a possibility — sometimes he discovers it too late ; but generally, in ninety- nine cases out of a hundred, he has lots of time to spit the dirty morsel forth. If an old fish, with what an expression he does so ! Had he a thumb, would'nt he know where to put it 1 He is a younker, most probably. Up the stream he bolts, in the direst terror, without looking to right or left, avoiding with awful dread every midge he meets on his path, and beneath an ancient boulder, where lodges some patriarch of the stream, some "medicine-man" of the finny tribes, in his hearing pours forth his tale of horror, demanding the why and wherefore of the deed. Ah ! don't the old 'coon know all about it 1 Alas ! how many has he seen whipped from the stream in the morning of their days and the noontide of their existence ! "All flies aren't flesh," is his sententious remark ; and with a roll of his pectorals, signifies that the audience is at an end. ON THE ALMOND. III. 'HERE are half-a-dozen general rules that ought to be attended to, which are worth all the choice flies that ever were invented. If "^ these are constantly kept in view, and studi- ously carried out, patience and perseverance will do the rest. If even one is neglected, the chances of success are correspondingly diminished. They are these : (1) Have your rod and line as light, and YOUR GUT AS FINE AS POSSIBLE. The liglltueSS of the rod tells considerably in the course of a day's fly-fishing ; and one of fourteen feet is quite sufficient to command any part of the Almond. A stiff rod is better than one too pliable, as by it the line is more easily kept in hand, and the necessity of sharp striking renders this of the utmost importance. The line should be light that it may not cling too much to the water, and should taper gi'adually from the top of the rod to its A DAY'S ANGLING junction with the casting-line. The gut must also be of the finest texture, as the reason why trout take the lure readier in discoloured water is not because they are more hungry on these occasions, but because its comiection with the angler on shore is less easily perceived. (2) Throw as long a line as you are able : no longer, however. The greater the distance between you and your flies, the greater your chance of a rise ; for trout will not touch the daintiest morsel you can give them if they see the giver. It is well to keep the sun in your face, even if it costs you a wet foot in crossing ; and as the wind is of great assistance in casting, you should, of course, take advantage of it when circumstances permit. (3) Throw frequently. Upon this depends greatly the weight of a day s take, as we believe that nine out of every ten fish caught with fly, are got before the flies reach the actual surface of the stream or immediately thereafter; and you must ever be ready to strike on the least motion being visible on the water in the vicinity of their landing, as most trout take the fly with little more than their snout out of water — not waiting, as some tamely do, till they feel a tug at the line, ON THE ALMOND. whicli frequently proves the farewell salute of some enlightened trout. It is therefore of the greatest importance that your flies reach the water first, to which object the fineness of your line will greatly tend. (4) Keep your eye always in the direction OF your flies. The senses of sight, touch, and hearing must be developed in no ordinary degree in the proficient angler — the first especially. He must strike sharp and at once on every symptom of motion in the vicinity of his flies ; for, ere the line is sufficiently straightened to aff'ect the fish, some time must elapse — enough frequently to enable him to escape. (5) Learn to be able to land your flies ON the desired spot. The largest trout are frequently to be found immediately beneath bushes that overhang some quiet corner of the stream, lying open-mouthed and ready to seize any of those unfortunate insects which linger there and occa- sionally drop to the water ; and to be able to make your flies cut the same caper without fraternizing with the bushes above, requires coolness, confi- dence, calculation, and a steady hand. (6) Look at your line frequently. See 22 A DAY'S ANGLING whether your flies are in their proper situation — attached to your line ; as however little chance the tyro may have of catching fisli with hooks, these chances cannot fail to be considerably diminished when, behind him, they are strangling violently some innocent shnib. (7) Fish up stream. Trouts almost invari- ably feed upwards, except in still water ; and by throwing your line in the same direction, you obtain at least two great advantages — your being invisible to the trout ; and the greater certainty of hooking him, otherwise there is much risk of pull- ing your fly straight out of his mouth. Another advantage is that, after your flies have reached the water, they assume a more natural position in being borne along with it, than in going against it. (8) Keep moving. Do not remain long in one place. Better return to any likely spot, than by lingering long in its vicinity, thoroughly alarm all its inhabitants. You are certain to fill a larger basket by touching lightly the various streams in the whole range at your command, than by over-doing a few. (9) No NEED FOR GREAT VARIETY OF FLIES. A few casts, with hair-ear for the tail-fly, red and ON THE ALMOND. black hackles for droppers (larger and smaller sizes for the darker and clearer states of the water), laid properly on the stream, attached to the finest gut you can command, and you are certain, from March till October, of meeting with the best success on the River Almond. Yet there is something to be done after the hook has changed quarters. Care must be taken that you do not pull it forth again, and that you do not, in your excitement, drag him too hastily shorewards. For the former contingency, we have given, in rule seventh, the only assurance ; in the latter, where more than the fish will be involved in its escape, coolness is the desideratum. If he is securely fixed — which you will easily know by his lingering about the bottom, trying by rubbing his snout among the stones to rid himself of the troublesome thing in his jaws — he will soon give play by tearing up, across, and down stream with the utmost velocity ; up again with accelerated speed, till you fancy his tremulous pantings are felt at your end of the rod. Then slowly backwards to his former haunts he comes. In all his vagaries must he be humoured : let him have time to give vent to his last burst of despair^to reconcile A DAY'S ANGLING himself to his fate — to say farewell to his friends. Then lead him gently down stream, to some favour- able spot where the water, gradually shoaling, ripples softly on a sandy or gravelly beach. But beware of him as he first sights his captor ! Often at that moment is his attitude of stubborn com- pliance exchanged for that of determined resis- tance ; and the stfiiggle that follows is a trial between the soundness of your slip-knots and bis indifference to pain. If the line holds good, the enemy may b6 numbered with the slain — in your basket ! ON THE ALMOND. IV. fob be gi^ |t. this time we have left the station — k^") followed the footpath by the dykeside — threaded the planting — passed the ruinous tower on our left — crossed the farm-yard — and stand gazing awhile on The Almond as here it lazily creeps along. The Almond, as an angling river, ought to stand high in the scale of trouting streams. Many look upon it, however, with the purest contempt ; and would consider a day spent there so much lost time. But we appeal to those who value the contents of a basket less by its weight than by the amount of skill requisite to fill one — if it does not do so in their estimation 1 Its vicinity to the capital lays it open to practice of every kind — good, bad, and indifferent. From March till October its banks are lined with parties who have each their own private self-estimate, who have done great things somewhere — where trout are always hungry A DAY'S ANGLING and are little molested — expecting to do the same here. Those are sure of disappointment : the various little arts that are necessary to conceal their object are not at all consulted, and their non-success but leads to greater carelessness. Others again, by their utter ignorance of the art they profess, and their bungling proceedings, have endowed the Almond trout with an amount of caution that is not to be found, perhaps, in any other stream. Yet is the Almond river as well stocked with fish as any other non-preserved riyulet in Scotland : partly looked after too, it is, as those who go too far up or too far down will soon discover. Keeping the footpath till we reach Boathouse- bridge, we there cross, and find the water, not that "porter" colour which is so much a favourite among anglers, but more approaching the hue of " strong ale" — full but not foul. Resting ourselves till our weapons of war are put into fighting order, we hazard a few conjectures as to our fortune. Your true angler knows at once, when on the banks of a stream, whether he will have a good basketful or no. Whether it be in the temperature of the atmosphere, or in that of the water ; whether it is a conviction — an impres- ON THE ALMOND. sion that all the concurrent circumstances — invisible to others, and almost so to himself — are there which witnessed his success on a former occasion — we cannot tell : nor he. The feeling perhaps is somewhat akin to that which comes upon us when we hear some particular song or tune, or gaze on some particular spot that re- sembles one which may have yielded us pleasure .long, long years ago — what time and whom with we cannot now remember ; but we feel it creeping round and softening our hearts : and for the moment that glimpse of the past throws a cheering ray o'er the troubles of the present, and partially dispels the deepest gloom of the future : and it is with a feeling of regret that we hear the close of the song or forsake the inspiring scene ! A few casts to soften the gut and bring those rebellious curls under legitimate authority, and we approach cautiously the scene of former exploits — a pebbly beach beneath us, and at the opposite side a depth of water that can only be guessed at. The bank there is strengthened by stakes, between which ever and anon a sullen plunge announces that feeding-time is at its height. A slight breeze A DAY'S ANGLING is behind us, and our line is easily brought in the vicinity of the stakes, slightly up stream. Again — and a slight noise in the neighbourhood of its termination gives zest to our endeavours. Once more, and our three flies lie high and dry on the margin beyond ! Lightly and one by one they slowly reach the water — ah ! he has seized the tail- fly, and after a few unavailing struggles, we bring him unwillingly to our feet. Small — not over four ounces — still we gladly welcome him as an instal- ment of what is to follow. In the same manner we proceed upwards, sometimes landing on the opposite sward the two more distant flies, and suffering the first dropper to hang for an instant in air — a ruse frequently successful. By the time we have done with this spot, which does not exceed fifty yards of the stream, five goodly fellows, from a quarter to three-quarters of a pound in weight, keep us somewhat noisy company. Roger, like a quiet sensible fellow as he is, has gone some hundred yards up the river; and we should like to know how he succeeds, or rather we would like to tell him our success. We must defer that pleasure, however, as the ground we are now approaching cannot be passed. Here are a ON THE ALMOND. succession of inviting streams that cannot fail to yield considerable sport, and cannot be overlooked ; but the intervening pools are too unruffled to be worth much. In twenty minutes more other three mingle, in our basket, their sorrows and their slime together. We are now more anxious than ever to know how Roger gets along — the more so because he is approaching a spot we have a particular reverence for, and as the ground between us consists of a long sleepy shallow pool, it is not favourable at present.^ Little or nothing can be done in pools on the Almond — indeed anywhere else — unless a good breeze is stirring ; in fact, your railway fare may be saved, and as much sport secured, by remaining at home, filling with water the largest tub you can command, and proceeding as directed in the " Completest Angler"— Lond. 1980. We proceed upwards accordingly, and come upon our friend Roger in time to see him land — just at the head of this long pool, where, when the water is lower, can be seen some large boulders which, as Roger knew, affords shelter to the laziest and largest fish in the water, and who, at such times as the present, when the stream is heavy, cannot A DAY'S ANGLING be troubled to stem the current — a big fellow of at least a pound and-a-half ! "How many?" "That makes No. 6." " Hope they're all like this ?" "All about it ;" and peeping into his basket, we see such trout as would really do one good to look at. " Why, Roger, here's more in number, but sadly small compared with these. What size of fly are you using?" " None at all." "What! Worm?" "Ay ! worm !" Sly dog was Roger ! "All here?" " All hereabouts." We expect, however, to do great things where we are going, and are not at all envious ; so we pass on for some hundred yards, where the river is much contracted, and the water iiishes down like a racehorse, and where no fly — real or artificial — could for a moment hold ground — or water either. It gradually settles into a pool, however, and bears on its surface divers circles, ripples, and a generally dissatisfied appearance in itself, but far otherwise to ON THE ALMOND. the angler. It is necessary we should get across somehow, and here some kind Samaritan has placed the means— a thin plank, it is true ; but sufficient for us. The side we have left is thickly fringed with bushes, and some care is requisite in order to get the flies where they ought to be, as they have a strange affinity for everything in the shape of vegetation. Beginning at the foot of the stream as usual, and reaching it by a somewhat circuitous route, that our prey be disturbed as little as possible, we touch up the shallows, and begin in earnest. The fall of our flies cannot be surpassed by any thing out of nature, and our success is beyond our expectations : but a third of this stream has been passed, and three fine fish are added to our Ha ! that was a determined tug, thought we. Here is weight at last ! Our line straightened suddenly, and was borne up towards the race, beneath the trees, and almost beneath our friendly plank ! Thank goodness he stops, and turns downward — willingly ! Down — down — down. Ho ! ho ! is the water too hot for you ? He leaps some feet in the air, and then side-to-side, then goes to the bottom — 32 A DAY'S ANGLING no rest, however — no relief is found there. Slowly and gradually we wear him ashore. Our person looming in the distance, gives him fresh energy, and with terrible rapidity he again darts up stream ! A sudden slackness in our line — "All [the fish, flies, and casting line] is lost !" We feel ill- used, and convinced no more good can be done here, avail ourselves of the plank, and find ourselves once more on the other side. Winding through the planting, we reach the neighbourhood of the stepping-stones, below which is formed a likely stream. We mount a new cast, and meet with some success. Taking advantage of the stepping-stones, we reach that glorious stream, which, commencing beneath the shadow of Kirk- liston, terminates in a deep pool. From bottom to top we took thirteen here — mostly small. We now thought of a pleasant seat and chat with Roger, and proceeded in search of him. We met him on his way up ; and stretching ourselves on the green bank, proceeded to compare notes. We found we had considerably the advantage in number, but thought Roger had it in weight. "All with the worm V "All with the worm. But," says Roger, "I ON THE ALMOXD. 33 have caught more than fish — a capital fly cast — line and all !" And taking off his felt, he shewed us our own lost line. "How?" " In the shoulder of one of these," pointing to two of the smallest. "Nonsense!" "Why?" We told how we had lost our fish and line together after such play, and identified our property to his satisfaction. "Ah! that was in consequence of his being hooked in the shoulder — they have always more strength m that case." " How hungry he must have been, or how soon he forgot his fright !" " Well," replied Roger, " it does not follow that he was either very hungry or very forgetful. It's likely he had made up his piscatory mind to eschew flies for some time to come ; but that he seized the worm with confidence in its genuineness, I have not the least doubt. Had he been younger or older it might have been difterent. As the water is falling considerably, and is much clearer, I think I will put on a fly cast." We said we would try worm. A DAY'S ANGLING " Too late to do much good," he said. It was about noon. " I intend going up a mile or two ; but propose previously an adjournment to Kirk- liston." Half-an-hour afterwards found us on our way up stream. We looked with a wistful eye at the stream below the dam-head, but seeing a party on the ground, did not disturb him, and strode on beyond Newbridge, and beneath the railway and canal viaducts. What a varied panorama is the pathway of a stream ! In itself how interesting and instructive ! Far up yon brown, heath-covered hill, nigh the summit, in that quiet, cool, and almost dismal corner — clear as the finest crystal, and cold as the essence of ice itself, stagnant and motionless as the rock which shades it from the sun, is a handful of water and its parent spring — the beginning of that mighty end which teems with the messengers of commerce ! Follow that strip of verdure of a brighter greenness than that which borders it. 'Tis the spring-water feeling its way blindly. Suddenly a chasm appears ; and, if we look closely, we will ON THE ALMOND. see the infant stream tripping from its dark tunnel into light, and from light again into darkness, like a bright spot in the child-life of man. These chasms become frequent, and as the tunnels become shorter, so the openings become longer. In some the spring-water seems languid and sorrowful ; in others gay, sparkling, and glad. It has passed the unconsciousness of infancy, and in the dawn of impressive childhood, is fretful at restraint, and gay and happy in its career of short-lived freedom. Now it has quitted the shelter of the upper soil. It basks in the sun, and joyously pursues its way. The lilies salute it, bending their fair heads as to a youthful hero going forth to fight the battle of the world — that has passed the Rubicon of life. It is proud, too ; for the birds drink from it, and wanton in its waters, and the minnow-swarm make it their abode ; but still is it not free from sorrow. Large boulders have chosen its channel as their resting- place, and the stream, foaming and fretting with impatience, is turned and twisted aside. Onward — ever onward — slowly, swiftly, laughing, languid, rushing, resting. The boulders increase ; it meets sudden stoppages ; high rocks intercept the sun's warmth ; its youthful companions have forsaken it, A DAY'S ANGLING the green grass and lilies have disappeared ; it is thrown down frightful declivities ; is beaten on rocks ; is hurried through the narrowest crevices ; thrust into pitchy darkness ; emerges softly to the sunlight, and is beginning to feel a return of former pleasures, when it is again plunged down a steep precipice, rock-ribbed and dark. Then, stunned awhile — or, it may be, like opening manhood, spurred on by memory, vainly striving to realise and return to the peaceful scenes of younger days — it turns round and round, a tiny whirlpool, till, finding its wishes vain and endeavours futile, it slowly, reluctantly, and regretfully, creeps on its unwilling way. Fresh scenes, fresh company, reconcile it to its fate, and now it meanders, like a straggling, winding thread of silver, through the valley, and disappears amidst the foliage of the neighbouring wood. Towering on each side of us run two distinct chains of hills, which stretch for miles and miles, till they become pale-blue in the distance. The startled hare, with frighted haste, dashes up the slope ; and the blackcock, with his mate the grey- hen, feigning themselves wounded or unable to fly, lure the intruder from their tender young. ON THE AL]\[OND. 37 Entering the forest, with the sun occasionally peering through the thick foliage, we still follow the course of the stream. Winding slowly and silently between the trees, lingering longingly in the subdued light by the roots of ancient oaks, mingling plaj^fully with the grassy sward, sporting gaily among the lilies, and ever and anon forming tiny cataracts — its motion breaks but little on the noiselessness that reigneth here ! In its monotonous yet changeful warbling, we fancy v/e hear familiar utterances — the voices of our dearest friends ; they call on us by name ; they come nearer ; we expect each moment they will burst upon our gaze ! With what startling distinctness does the note of the chaffinch strike our ears ! How audible the fallen leaf! What solitude — what peace is here ! Yon sleek steed, the only visible denizen of the glade, seems to witness our departure with regret, and would fain follow to more lively haunts. Now are the trees covered with ivy ; and the ruined tower, ivy-o'ergrown too, brings to our mind visions of ancient times, when "Might was right, and freedom but a name !" A DAY'S ANGLING Once more in the bright sunshine ! How cheer- ful and how changed is the face of Nature ! For those towering mountains are substituted waving cornfields, rich meadows, and level pasture-lauds r. , r-