embers, after the fashion of a gridiron, and on these we managed our cookery well. No one who has never tried this expedient for a ready lunch can be aware of the exquisite flavour retained by all fish of the trout species when eaten as soon as caught, although without the desirable accompaniments of bread and salt.

Thus refreshed, we were on the point of renewing our sport, when an enormous black cloud, that all the morning had been at once menacing and aiding us, began like a "huge bombard to shed his liquor." We stood this pelting manfully until our jackets held water like a sponge, which finally discharged itself into our shoes. But fishing is a very humid pastime; and aware that trout often feed most greedily during a passing shower, we stuck to the river side and good reason had we to congratulate ourselves on the resolve-trout after trout rose, took our flies, and were basketed. Reaching at length a piece of steep bank in a meadow not far from the inn, where the shelving stream, shallow on one side, grows deeper and deeper, until it settles into a dark pool beneath a hollow bank overgrown with bushes, I warily and lightly cast my flies beneath them. At the second or third attempt the rod received a check that bent it into a half circle. "A mossy stone," thought I;" or one of those old tree roots which everywhere encumber rivers like Tanad." The uncertainty was but for a moment: there came a second tremulous tug at my hand, such as no angler mistakes ; and quick as thought-leaping, flouncing, darting-now this way, now that came a monster to the surface, fully three pounds weight, with the orange-bodied dun hackle in his jaws. All this occupied far less time than is taken in describing it. For a few moments he continued his gambols most vigorously, lashing the water with his broad and sinewy tail; but discovering the atmosphere to be somewhat uncongenial and suffocating-Whirr! whirr! whirr! went the reel, and off he shot beneath the branches of a great tree that grows on the opposite bank. How his golden crimson spotted sides glittered like a star as gradually he disappeared through the dark deep water! The spot in question has a very foul bottom, and is no place to play or trifle with your game; so I wound up the line, held a light hand, and most praiseworthily kept my friend's head above water, where his fins could little avail him. Exhausted now with fear and pain, swimming on his broad side, and with gills wide open, he suffered himself to be dragged unresistingly towards the side on which I stood, where, curved round snout to tail, he lay motionless in a little shallow, scarce deep enough to cover his ventral fin. It was a spot as awkward for landing a fish as for playing him. No leading down stream, as trees grow right and left: no gravelly silt, whereon first to draw him, and then with a spring between him and his element to cut off his retreat there. Nothing remained for it but the perilous expedient of weighing him up the bank. I care not if the reader laugh-it was an anxious moment for the fisherman; and the attempt ended as most similar attempts at hoisting out a fish do terminate. Whilst the rod bent almost two double with his weight, one of the dropper flies caught in a thistle-stalk, another in a bunch of rushes. My glorious trout, finding he had got a purchase upon me, roused himself for life or death, made a desperate plunge, and, snapping my winch-line close to the butt, fell back into the water with all this gear at his jaws. Seeing him lie there stunned and exhausted, I cast

away the rod and sprang down; but just as my hand was upon his gills, he wriggled off into deep water, carrying four yards of horsehair, three yards of capital gut, with flies attached, like a tow-line at his tail. I cannot record my satisfaction at this passage in the day's achievements. In consequence I strolled onwards sulkily, too much disgusted again to refit the line, and bemoaning the absence of my landing-net, which, though generally unnecessary and a nuisance, would here have done good service. Whilst thus engaged, my steps were arrested at a spot the mere sight of which almost made me forget the past. Instantly seated upon the greensward, pocket-book in hand, I rapidly attached to my reel-line a cast of four flies, exactly similar to those which had before served me so well. The spot in question may be considered as one of the best in Tanad, and if the angler will note where the divided stream re-unites itself beneath some large trees, having a fine gravel on the northern side to stand and throw from, he may be assured of the locality, and share my good fortune. Whenever a good fish is taken from pool or stream, another immediately occupies his feeding ground.

After a few trials at this spot, I saw a spanking trout run out from under the boughs that ever and anon waved over the stream, and make a rush at the second dropper-the veritable orange-bodied dun which just before had won and lost the monarch of the brook. The fellow rose short, however, but in a second-for disappointment had made me keen as an otter-my flies fell like a snowflake about half-a-yard above the spot where he had just before dashed at me. The casting-line had scarcely floated a couple of yards, when, slap-bang! came my gentleman again at his old favourite, with a constancy that was quite refreshing. He hooked himself, as most large fish do; then, finding his progress towards the bottom less facile than usual, he began to amuse himself by cutting capers aloft. But this turn no thistly thorny bank lay between me and my struggling game. So, after humouring his gambols for a few minutes, I quickly landed him on the smooth gravelly shore-a fine deep-bodied trout sixteen inches long.

By this time, however (three o'clock), the storm among the Merionethshire mountains had done its work bravely upon Rhaiader y Mochaunt, or "the cataract in the valley of the wild hogs," a magnificent fall of Tanad over a lofty pile of rocks near its source. The water was evidently rising, and came down darkened to a tinge of brown. It being now too much discoloured for fly-fishing, with a view halloo we hailed a lad pasturing sheep on the opposite meadows, and explaining what we required, promised in recompense a skinful of cwrw dda at the inn. Quickly doffing shoes and stockings, he started away to a neighbouring ditch, and soon came back with a score of small fish, which he dexterously caught by standing in the stream and hoisting them out with his hands. In the interval we had both removed our flies, and attached the requisite trolling tackle. The water was in admirable order for minnow spinning. We retraced our steps upwards to Llangedwin Bridge, and hy half-past six o'clock, out of eleven runs had landed eight additional fish, the smallest of which weighed little less than a pound.

Well pleased with our sport, but in nowise satisfied with the state of our stomachs, which gave many sulky indications that they felt and resented our neglect, we crossed the meadows to the road. A quarter of a mile was all that intervened between us and our hostess's cheerful face, as

she stood in front of the house telegraphing us that a dinner cooked for seven o'clock would be good for nothing at half-past. Handing her our baskets, we requested that a fair dish for two hungry fishermen might be abstracted, and the remainder carefully spread on the cool stone table of her dairy. Slender as a pedestrian's toilet must necessarily be, appetite made it of the briefest; and in a very short interval our wet garments were removed, and our slippered feet ensconced beneath the nicely-spread mahogany. Then "neat-handed Phillis" entered to know if she might serve dinner, and our ready assent was promptly followed by the hostess bearing a most savoury platter of fried trouts. These, admired and discussed, were succeeded by a loin of that most delicious of viands, the genuine Welsh mutton. Ours was the diminutive species, bred in-and-in, which, fed for a thousand generations on the short, sweet, fragrant herbage of Cambria's hills, acquires with the fleetness of the rocbuck its rich, wild, juicy flavour. So tiny is it in size and weight, that two robust rodmen like ourselves would starve if restricted to a sheep per week. "Marrow, bones, and all," the carcass seldom weighs more than 30lbs. As it was, we reduced what the gods had sent us to the ghost of itself. Lots of cwrw dda-in Saxon phrase the bonny nut-brown ale, clear as amber, and pure as malt could make it-served to cool the fever of exercise and long abstinence. At last, the kickshaws and the cloth having vanished, we closed in upon the sparkling wood logs that burned merrily before us, and attempted to get up-and what was far more difficult, to maintain-a discussion on the events of the day. But it would not do. Question and reply soon dwindled to an interchange of monosyllables. Nature asserted her rights, and both of us bending over the table became quickly oblivious of past, present, and future. On awaking, we found the candles nearly extinguished hastily trimming them, each with a "good night" staggered to his hammock, and in the space of a few minutes I at least was in the land of dreams, killing more fish, and damaging more tackle, than Tanad or my pocket could fairly afford. And thus ends the record of our first day's sport.

(To be continued).

LETTERS FROM MY UNCLE SCRIBBLE.

MY DEAR NEPHEW,

There must be something magical about the words "Here we are again." The rapturous applause with which they were received by gods and men, when the Clown at Astley's addressed that historical personage Widdicomb with that trite sentence; so ably conveying to the public mind that he was going to do nothing new, nothing more than he had done for the hundred-and-one nights preceding. Yet down came pit and gallery in such a burst of enthusiastic applause, that seemed to herald a rapid string of new pantomimic jokes, and fire of Thespian wit, hitherto unknown. However, the spectators took the

will for the deed, and " Here we are again" was always received as a guarantee for something highly interesting.

In writing you a letter on hunting, at the end of a month's hard frost, I shelter myself under the wings of this Widdicombian maxim "Here I am again;" I might add, with very little to tell you; but if you will be kind enough to imitate the confidence of the British public, you must consider yourself amused until some more open weather admits of your being so.

Since I last wrote, our worst anticipations of a long and hard frost have been verified A few desperate attempts were made by determined youngsters, and the telegraph wires kept in some sort of condition by impatient sportsmen, every time a fall of snow or a change of wind came about; but it was to no purpose. Foxhounds and the lives of country gentlemen are too valuable to be risked when the country rides like a half-picked mutton bone; and one day's thaw was an excellent opportunity for showing the world that "discretion is the better part of valour.' No man alive, I believe, is fonder of hunting than I am; the very thought of it warms me almost enough to produce a general thaw; but I hate sliding, especially on horseback; and there is neither pleasure nor profit in anticipating a day's sport by twenty-four hours, at the risk of one's horse or one's neck. In a very bad scason, we might not be so mighty particular about a horse or two more or less, or a bone or two whole or in half; but with three clear months of the very deepest and wettest weather ever known, there ought to be fewer gluttons and grumblers after a month's frost. Hunting might be said, in the midland counties, to have recommenced somewhere about last Thursday week. On the Saturday previous, a few choice spirits betook themselves, in a north-easterly wind, to Sibbertoft, to meet the Pytchley; but Lord Hopetoun was away, and, in his absence, Charles Payne considered his Lordship's cattle safest in kennel and stable. Besides, the hounds are on trust; so it is as well to be particular. I can bear witness to the prudence of the measure. About two o'clock I tried to face it, but was blown round like a politician; the surface of the country was like a well-greased knifeboard.

On Thursday, the 3rd, however, it was possible to ride in places; that is, one pack of hounds were out-the Warwickshire-and had a run; but they were unable to mount the Shuckborough hills, so contented themselves with drawing the vale. They found at Debdale, I believe; but you can consult the Spa Courier for a full, true, and particular account of the business, and you will find it set forth in its very best light, without a doubt. Their huntsman, Morgan, is a capital servant and admirable horseman; my heartiest wish is, that he may always be able to get clear away from the most dangerous and unsportsmanlike field in the world. They are out-and-out fellows on (the Spa) parade; and if they could only be drafted for the militia, and sent out on foreign service, it would be a great blessing to most of the packs about them.

The next day, Friday, was worse than Thursday. The frost had again taken strong hold of the country. It is said that before the conversion of St. Hubert, one of his sins used to be hunting on a fast-day. If his Fridays had been like this, I can only say they were slow enough.

A thaw, with a southerly wind and a cloudy sky, on that evening brought a strong muster to Badby Wood on Saturday morning-the announced Pytchley meet for that day. No hounds, however, appeared; and the expressions of disappointment were very unmistake able. The facts of the case appear to be simply these :-The country near the Pytchley kennels did not seem to Lord Hopetoun's servants in a fit state for hunting; they accordingly telegraphed to him that such was the case, and he accordingly did not come down. In the meantime, the county paper, published only on Saturday morning, appears with the announcement that the Pytchley hounds will meet the first day after the frost at the kennels. This was, of course, an useless advertisement to any one living out of the neighbourhood, and to most people in it. The Londoners, Brummagems, Liverpudlians, Leamingtonians, and several gentlemen from wide distances, got up by candlelight for nothing. Those who railed then, having got the steam up, railed on, but without effect; for hounds there were none, and they had to return booted and spurred from a bootless errand. It was somewhat thoughtless not to remember that the Northampton papers are not of universal celebrity or circulation, nor of sufficient interest at the best of times to be read in one's nightcap. It was unfortunate; because, certainly, at and around the announced meet, Badby Wood, the country was rideable; but to suppose that Lord Hopetoun, for his own amusement hunting the country five days a week at his own expense, should have had anything to do with this disappointment, is absurd. He seems, at least, to judge by his previous public conduct, most anxious to promote the sports of his fellow-countrymen-even to keeping their hounds, and paying for their hobby-quite as much as his own.

32

A long draw on Monday the 7th, with Lord Southampton, made us apprehensive that the cold snow and frost had not been so successful in driving the outlying foxes into cover as we anticipated. However, we eventually found at Hinton Gorse. Luckily, it was not ware vixen,' which it frequently is at this time of the year. The field was a very large one, but a very orderly one for a midland county, and we got away quickly and well on terms. The pace was first-rate, and we went into the aforesaid Badby Wood at the end of twenty minutes. The fencing was strong, the scent out of cover good, and the ground conveniently rotten for a fall. I heard one fast man abusing the gates -I am quite sure he took advantage of them; but eat your mutton, and poke your eye out, is always the order of the day. I speak well of the bridge that carries me over. I hope, the next time we run that line, that he will stick to the fencing, and leave the gates and the gaps to

me.

These hounds had a second good hunting run on the same day, though I was not there to see. On Tuesday, the Pytchley also had a good day's sport, running from near Ecton to Sywell Wood; and on Wednesday a quick gallop from Misterton Gorse to the plantations at Bitteswell House; where we rather imagine they went to ground. The rest was a sort of rabbit-hunt all day.

If you wish to see an extraordinary exhibition of all nations, I recommend a meet at Misterton after a frost. Misterton is, I should tell you, on the Leicestershire side of Northamptonshire, in the midst of a very fine grass country, generally pretty well supplied with foxes. is a good opportunity for the Leicester man. It is also about five miles