Among the foremost to bid welcome to the waking year is THE ANGLER. For a month past he has been over-hauling his fish books. Walton, and Cotton, and Best, and Bowlker, and Davy, and Rennie, and Ronalds have had the dust duly flopped out of their leaves, and been conned over from end to end. He has been "cramming" for spring as a cantab crams for his degree: all the world seems to him to breathe of fish and fish-hooks: as he walks down the street he stops to look in at the tackle-shop window if he buys a coat or a pair of moleskins, it is with a view to their effect upon the fish: and if he reads a newspaper, be sure he turns to the French debates and fixes on the speeches of M. Piscatory. For ourself, to whom much of the above applies, in common with our brethren of the gentle craft, we have transported ourself bag and baggage to our old favourite haunt in the vale of Llanberis. We sputter Welch as glibly as a harlequin turns summersets : Schllwffwn awff llynngrwywr - there's a touch for you-we trace our name of Swanquill up to Owen Glendwr (only by changing the Swan into Glen and the quill into dur), and confine ourselves in the eating line chiefly to leeks and Welch rabbits. season. But come, we must be off to our sport. It is our first day of the The morning is beautiful, and all nature seems intent on a jubilee. We are first up of the whole principality (and no great merit in us neither, for we haven't been able to sleep a wink all night): the very milkmaid finds us already at our post by the water-side; and old Snowdon is only just beginning to peep forth from his mansion of mist. We are at the old spot now. The old cascade is roaring in our ears the old river-reaches are glistening in our eyes. Everything about us comes with a claim of friendship and old acquaintanceship upon our heart-the old trees, the old bridges, the old whirlpools, the old eddies-all have a tale of past prowess or ancient adventure. But what the deuce! That's the third time this villainous stretcher has been buried in our finger and each of the droppers has had at least as many bites of our blood. And yet we are by no means of what is called a nervous temperament. Nay, it was but a fortnight ago that we charged a park wall with a wide ditch on the farther side and a row of iron spikes atop as long as bayonets, without so much as moving a muscle: and now here we are, trembling and shaking before this little trumpery make-believe fly like a schoolboy before his first love. And for the life of us we can't get the rings of our rod to stand in a straight line-our eyes are as nervous as our fingers— and there! now we've struck the spear into that vile, goutily-disposed toe of ours, as if there was no one of the other mortal nine that would have satisfied the malignant fate. But never mind: all's right at last. The hooks are clear of our fingers; the spear of our toes our little entomologies are walking the waters like so many "things of life:" our presence of mind is returning to us by degrees, and a throw or two among the stones and roots brings us back to our accustomed skill in whipping. But the water is bright as chrystal, and we are obliged to put in practice all our wiles and stratagems to induce the little beauties to taste our viands. What attitudes we are obliged to throw ourselves into-classical and unclassical to decoy the finny rascals! Now we are lying full length (with our feet in a mud-hole) like a Dying Gladiator: now we have made a throw and are standing in an attitude of intense anxiety to watch the result of it, like another Apollo Belvidere looking after his arrow. Now we are down on our knees, "like a nun Silent in adoration." Anon we are up again on "tiptytoes," like "the herald Mercury New lighted" and so forth. Two minutes more, and we are out-Laocöoning the Laocöon: then we are personating the Antinöus: then the Apollo del Vaticano: thenin short we go thro' the whole series, even down to the Venus de Medicis; and the ladies will excuse us saying that the modest dignity of the sex suffers nothing from our personation of the character. What is more important to us is that the fishes give the most unequivocal testimony to the success of our posturing, and leave us no room to regret having devoted so much time to the study of the antique. We have always one kicking in our creel, and our fingers are literally flayed with pulling hooks out of fishes' mouths. The hours go merrily by, and noon has arrived before we are well aware that it is breakfasttime. We are at the old mill now, and the waste water is roaring away like a second Reichenbach. Away go the ephemeridæ into the midst of the foam, and round and round with the chain of bubbles and broken sticks, where the fish are dancing and leaping for the dear life. There did you see that fellow? a yard and a half high, if he jumped an inch, and right into the middle of the fall, that dashed him down again into the "bell of waters," and turned him over and over like a tumbler pigeon. And there another-and another-and ha ha! that fellow that jumped right thro' the glittering current and snubbed his nose against the floodgate! and there-by Jove, two together! great wits, no doubt, which, you know, do jump. But confound 'em, why don't they take my flies? such leaping and curveting would make 'em hungry, one would think; and yet, devil of a rise have I had since I took my stand on this bank. Try 'em again: bah, you fool, do you think I'm going to stand here holding my line for you to jump over? there again-over top-piece and all! gently now, my little Golden Dun-gently over the bubbles —that's it—right over a great fat bubble's back without breaking it— bravo, bravo! thistledown's a fool to it—but confound the fish, not a fin can I stir! Stay, yonder behind the stone is a fine fellow of a trout, getting his wind after a famous bout of summersets! Now my little dropper, take care how you trip over his nose. There you go, as light as a snow-flake, and natural enough to deceive Linneus himself-over his head-before his eyes-close to his very snout-andhey! ods hooks and barbs! be hanged if he hasn't turned tail on the little innocent, and with one flop of his unmannerly stern sent him spinning to the other side of the stone like a shuttlecock from a battledore. Time to shut up now, I think: when insult is added to neglect, and the most beautiful little Dun Midge in the three kingdoms is treated with as much indignity as if he was nothing but a rascally wasp or a vile humble-bee. But we'll be revenged on 'em when evening comes: that particular trout with the contumelious tail (we have marked well his lurkingplace) shall be the especial object of our spite. Till then let him take his fling let him leap till his fins ache: his hours are reckoned: his jumps are numbered: in the expressive language of the amphitheatrical banner, "HE DIES AT SUNSET!" EPITAPH ON A FAVOURITE HORSE, WHICH CARRIED THE WRITER THREE SEASONS TO HOUNDS IN THE MIDLAND COUNTIES. One moment pause! Beneath this verdant shade, A faithful Servant's honest frame is laid. No more shall he, with joy impatient, bound SAGITTARIUS. ANIMAL MAGNETISM. I was one morning in the act of abusing a servant of mine for his carelessness in having allowed the dog stealers to get hold of the most lovely little fright of a Skye terrier that ever looked like a tow door-mat on castors, when a friend of mine, who had for many years been resident in London, called upon me.-He was, as usual, followed into my room by an old spaniel bitch, his inseparable companion. "How the devil do you manage," inquired I, turning to him, "to keep old Bessie out of the clutches of these rascals?" Compose yourself, my dear fellow," said he, "and I will tell you. I came up to town young and inexperienced as you are. I was fond of animals, and kept a dog, or rather tried to keep one, to enliven the dulness of a bachelor's fireside. I took pains to procure a handsome one, but before he had time "To know me well And love me," he was sure to be stolen. Sic de cæteris to the number of half a dozen. At last I bought old Bess, then a puppy, she soon followed her predecessors; I advertised, paid a considerable reward, and succeeded in recovering her, in order that she might be prigged again the very next day.-She was of course well fed and cared for in my establishment, yet the fool actually seemed to connive at her own abduction, although when in the hands of the dog stealers she was evidently starved and ill-used. The moment my hall door was opened, out scampered Bess, and there was invariably some prowling vagabond lurking about the street, who was sure to capture her instantly. She never was intrinsically worth five shillings, yet I could not help liking her sufficiently to pay guinea after guinea for her ransom; and it used to pain me to see the evil plight in which the poor beast returned home after a week's sojourn in the dog stealer's hands. I at last bethought me of coming to an amicable composition with my persecutors. I directed my servant to permit Bessie to be stolen once more. This he easily contrived to do. I then advertised as usual, and as I was by that time known to be a thorough gentleman, incapable of taking any unfair advantage of the confidence reposed in me by the Fancy, an eminent member of that profession brought Bess to my door, after dark. My servant then told him from me, that I should always be perfectly willing to pay a guinea, whenever my dog was stolen, but that I earnestly requested that in future, as soon as he |