me as being at the same time clever and useful; I mean Sir Humphrey Davy's."

"It is both, Frank: his account of the habits and natural history of the Salmon species, is just, ingenious, and amusing; and there is a calm and philosophic spirit that pervades the whole, rendering it a work of more than common interest. But practically, it is as useless as all Guides and Manuals since the days of Walton. Of the uninitiated it will make fishermen, where Colonel Hawker's sage directions enables a man to shoot, who has never been five miles from Holborn-bars. I doubt not but Sir Humphrey was an ardent and scientific fisherman, but in many practical points I differ with him. He angled well, but he fished like a philosopher. If he haunted this river for a season, unless he altered his system materially, he would not kill a dozen salmon. Flies, such as he describes, would never in any seasons or weathers be successful here. He fairly says, that different rivers require different flies;' but nothing like those he recommends would answer this one. And although many of the theories and speculative opinions are very ingenious, I question much their validity."

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Admiring Sir Humphrey as I do, I would pardon his philosophy and fine flies; his 'golden pheasant, silken-bodied, orange, red, and pale

blue, silver-twisted, and kings-fisher mixtures,' even to his small bright humming-bird' itself; but with all my Christian charity and personal affection, there is one fatal passage for which, like Lady Macbeth's soiled hand, there is no remedy. Would that I could 'pluck from the memory' that luckless page; but, alas! whenever I see Salmonia, it rushes to my recollection. Think, Frank, of a man, who limited a party of sporting tourists to half a pint of claret!and threatened an honest gentleman, who called for another bottle, with an overflow of blood' a suffusion of the hæmorrhoidal veins'and worse than all, a determined palsy,** if he persevered. I could have forgiven the philosopher any thing-every thing,--even to the comparison of that rascally fish the perch with the rich and luxurious mullet. But to fob off

6

* Doctors will disagree;-Vide Daniel's Account of Joe Man, Gamekeeper to Lord Torrington. "He was in constant strong morning exercise; he went to bed always betimes, but never till his skin was filled with ale. This," he said, "would do no harm to an early riser, and to a man who pursued field sports. At seventy-eight years of age he began to decline, and then lingered for three years; his gun was ever upon his arm, and he still crept about, not destitute of the hope of fresh diversion." vol. ii. p. 172.

"Inhabitants (especially new come) are subject to distillations, rhumes, and fluxes, for remedy whereof they use an ordinary drink of aqua-vitæ, so qualified in the making, that it dryeth more, and inflameth lesse, than other hote confections."-Campion's Historie, 1571.

four stout gentlemen with a solitary bottle of the vin ordinaire, ycleped claret, that one meets with in a country inn! For God's sake, ring the bell! Here, John, some wine!—nothing but a fresh bottle can allay my indignation, and restore my tranquillity."

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Well, we must admit, that Sir Humphrey would not be exactly the man to fill the chair at an Irish symposium;' but his bacchanalian antipathies apart, he really is an agreeable and instructive writer."

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Why, ye-es; still there is a dash of milkand-water throughout Salmonia, that nothing but its ingenious account of the affinities and natural history of fishes could compensate. Take for example the introduction of the Fishing-party, and remark the colloquy between Halieus and Poietes.

"Hal.- I am delighted to see you, my worthy friends, on the banks of the Colne; and am happy to be able to say, that my excellent host has not only made you free of the river for this day's angling, but insists upon your dining with him,-wishes you to try the evening fishing, and the fishing to-morrow morning --and proposes to you, in short, to give up twenty-four hours to the delights of an angler's May-day.'

Poiet. We are deeply indebted to him; and I hardly know how we can accept his offer,

without laying ourselves under too great an obligation.'

"Hal.- Fear not-he is as noble-minded a man as ever delighted in good offices; and so benevolent, that I am sure he will be almost as happy in knowing you are amused, as you can be in your sport; and hopes for an additional satisfaction in the pleasure of your conver

sation.'

So let it be!'

"Poiet. "Hal. 'I will take you to the house, you shall make your bow, and then you will be all free to follow your own fancies. Remember, the dinner hour is five; the dressing-bell rings at half-past four; be punctual to this engagement, from which you will be free at seven.'

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Now, because a country gentleman takes heart, and invites four philosophers to dinner, Hal. can scarcely find words to communicate the hospitable message, and Poietes opines that the obligation shall be eternal. After the worthy host is lauded for this generous act to the very skies, it appears that he bundles off the company at seven o'clock, and before they had time to look around the table, quoits them out, like a shove-groat shilling;' but, hark! the piper is in the hall-Shin suis, Cormac !* pass the wine--and a fig for philosophy!"

* Play up, Cormac !

LETTER VII.

Symptoms of a coming Storm.-A Sportsman's Dinner.— Old John.-Pattigo.-Gale comes on.—Shawn a tra buoy. -Seals.-The Blind Seal.

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THE morning had a sullen look; Slieve More retained his night-cap; the edge of the horizon, where the ocean met the sky, was tinged with a threatening glare of lurid sunshine; the wind was capricious as a woman's love, now swelling into gusts, now sinking to a calm, as the unsteady breeze shifted round to every point "i' the shipman's card." As evening approached, the clouds collected in denser masses, and the giant outline of Slieve More was lost in a sheet of vapour. The swell from the Atlantic broke louder on the bar, the piercing whistle of the curlew was heard more frequently, and the small hard-weather gull, which seldom leaves the Black Rock but to harbinger a coming tempest, was ominously busy, whirling aloft in rapid circles, or plunging its long and