"Gloomy woods

Start at the flash, and from their deep recess Wide-flaming out, their trembling inmates shake."

No regular ascending or descending scale here; but wherever the lightning chooses to go, there it goes-the blind agent of indiscriminating destruction.

BULLER. Capricious Zig-zag.

NORTH. Jemmy was overmuch given to mouthing in the seasons; and in this description-matchless though it be―he sometimes out-mouths the big-mouthed thunder at his own bombast. Perhaps that is inevitable-you must, in confabulating with that Meteor, either imitate him, to keep him and yourself in countenance, or be, if not mute as a mouse, as thin-piped as a fly. In youth I used to go sounding to myself among the mountains the concluding lines of the Re

treat:

"Amid Carnarvon's mountains rages loud

The repercussive roar; with mighty crush,
Into the flashing deep, from the rude rocks
Of Penmanmaur heaped hideous to the sky,
Tumble the smitten cliffs, and Snowdon's peak
Dissolving, instant yields his wintry load;
Far seen, the heights of heathy Cheviot blaze,
And Thule bellows through her utmost isles.'

Are they good-or are they bad? I fearnot good. But I am dubious. The previous picture has been of one locality-a wide one-but within the visible horizon-enlarged somewhat by the imagination, which, as the schoolmen said, inflows into every act of the senses-and powerfully, no doubt, into the senses engaged in witnessing a thunder-storm. Many of the effects so faithfully, and some of them so tenderly painted, interest us by their picturesque particularity:

"Here the soft flocks, with that same harmless look

They wore alive, and ruminating still

In fancy's eye; and there the frowning bull,
And ox half-raised."

We are here in a confined world-close to us and near; and our sympathies with its inhabitants-human or brute-comprehend

art.

BULLER. Are they good-or are they bad? I am dubious.

NORTH. Thunder-storms travel fast and far-but here they seem simultaneous; Thule is more vociferous than the whole of

Wales together-yet perhaps the sound itself of the verses is the loudest of all-and we cease to hear the thunder in the din that describes it.

BULLER. Severe-but just.

NORTH. Ha! thou comest in such a questionable shape—

ENTRANT. That I will speak to thee. How God bless you, do you do, my dear sir? how do you do?

NORTH. Art thou a spirit of health or goblin damned?

ENTRANT. A spirit of health.

NORTH. It is it is the voice of TALBOYS. Don't move an inch. Stand still for ten seconds on the very same site, that I may have one steady look at you, to make assurance doubly sure-and then let us meet each other half-way in a Cornish hug.

TALBOYS. Are we going to wrestle already, Mr. North?

NORTH. Stand still ten seconds more. He is he-You are you-gentlemen-H. G. Talboys-Seward, my crutch-Buller, your

arm

up

TALBOYS. Wonderful feat of agility! Feet to the ceilingNORTH. Don't say ceiling.

TALBOYS. Why not? ceiling-coelum. Feet up to heaven.

NORTH. An involuntary feat-the fault of Swing-sole fault-but I always forget it when agitated

BULLER. Some time or other, sir, you will fly backwards and fracture your skull.

NORTH. There, we have recovered our equilibrium-now we are in grips, don't fear a fall-I hope you are not displeased with your reception.

TALBOYS. I wrote last night, sir, to say I was coming-but there being no speedier

NORTH. Not to-day? Here all has been hush.

TALBOYS. It came at once from all points of the compass-and they all met-all the storms-every mother's son of them at a central point where I happened to be. Of course, no house. Look for a house on an emergency, and if once in a million times you see one-the door is locked, and the people gone to Australia.

NORTH. I insist on you putting on dry clothes. Don't try my temper.

TALBOYS. By-and-by I began to have my suspicions that I had been distracted from the road-and was in the Channel of the Airey. But on looking down I saw the Airey in his own channel-almost as drumly as the mire-burn-vulgarly called road-L was plashing up. Altogether the scene was most animating-and in a moment of intense exhilaration-not to weather-fend, but in defiance-I unfurled my Umbrella.

all fiery green in the gloom-sat down-as composedly as you would yourself, sir-on a knoll, in another region-engirdled with young birch-groves-as beautiful a restingplace, I must acknowledge, as, after a lyrical flight, could have been selected for repose by Mr. Wordsworth.

NORTH. I know it-Arash-alaba-chalinora-begota-la-chona-hurie. Archy will go

for it in the evening-all safe. But do go and put on dry clothes. What now, Billy? BILLY BALMER. Here are Mr. Talboy trunk,

sir.

NORTH. Who brought it?

BILLY. Nea, Maister-I dan't kna'-I 'spose Carrier. I ken't reet weel-ance at Windermere-watter.

NORTH. Swiss Giantess-Billy.

BILLY. Ay-ay-sir.

NORTH. You will find the Swiss Giantess as complete a dormitory as man can desire, Talboys. I reserve it for myself in event of rheumatism. Though lined with velvet, it is always cool-ventilated on a new princi

NORTH. The same we sat under, that dogday, at Dunoon?

TALBOYS. The same. Whew! Up into the sky like the incarnation of a whirlwind! No turning outside in-too strong-ribbed for inversion before the wind he flew-like a creature of the element-and gracefully accomplished the descent on an eminence about a mile off.

Punka. My cot hangs in what used to be the Exhibition-room-and her Retreat is now a commodious Dressing-room. Billy, show Mr. Talboys to the Swiss Giantess.

BILLY. Ay-ay, sir. This way Mr. Talboy-this way, sir.

TALBOYS. What is your dinner-hour, Mr. North?

NORTH. Sharp seven-seven sharp.

TALBOYS. And now 'tis but half-past two.

TALBOYS. I eyed him where he lay-not without anger. It had manifestly been a wilful act--he had torn himself from my grasp and now he kept looking at me-at safe distance as he thought-like a wild animal suddenly undomesticated-and escaped into his native liberty. If he had sailed before the wind-why might not I? No need to stalk him—so I went at him right in front -but such another flounder! Then, sir, I first knew fatigue. NORTH.

"So eagerly THE FIEND O'er bog, or steep, through strait, rough, dense,

whatever you call him-is rumbling disorderly in the wood; and I noted, as I crossed the bridge, that he was proud as a piper of being in Spate-but he looks more rational down in yonder meadow-and- -HEAVEN HAVE MERCY ON ME! THERE'S LOCH AWE!! NORTH. I thought it queer that you never looked at it.

TALBOYS. Looked at it? How could I look at it? I don't believe it was there. If it was-from the hill-top I had eyes but for the Camp-the Tents and the Treesand "Thee, the spirit of them all!" Let me have another eye-full-another soul-full of the Loch. But 'twill never do to be losing time in this way. Where's my creel-where's my creel ?

NORTH. On your shoulders

TALBOYS. And my Book? Lost-lostlost! Not in any one of all my pockets. I shall go mad.

NORTH. Not far to go. Why your Book's in your hand.

TALBOYS. At eight?

NORTH. Seven. Archy, follow him-In that state of excitement he will be walking with his spectacles on over some precipice. Keep your eye on him, Archy

ARCHY. I can pretend to be carrying the landing-net, sir.

NORTII. There's a specimen of a Scottish Lawyer, gentlemen. What do you think of him?

BULLER. That he is without exception the most agreeable fellow, at first sight, I ever met in my life.

NORTH. And so you would continue to think him, were you to see him twice a week for twenty years. But he is far more than that -though, as the world goes, that is much: his mind is steel to the back-bone-his heart is sound as his lungs-his talents great-in literature, had he liked it, he might have excelled; but he has wisely chosen a better Profession and his character now stands high as a Lawyer and Judge. Yonder he goes! As fresh as a kitten after a score and three quarter miles at the least.

BULLER. Seward-let's after him. Billy -the minnows.

BILLY. Here's the Can, sirs.
Scene closes.

SCENE II.-Interior of Deeside. TIME-7

P. M. NORTH-TALBOYS-BULLER-SEW

ARD.

NORTH. Seward, face Buller. Talboys, face North. Fall to, gentlemen; to-day we dispense with regular service. Each man has his own distinct dinner before him, or in the immediate vicinity-soup, fish, flesh, fowl—and with all necessary accompaniments and sequences. How do you like the arrangement of the table, Talboys?

TALBOYS The principle shows a profound knowledge of human nature, sir. In theory, self-love and social are the same-but in practice, self-love looks to your own platesocial to your neighbors. By this felicitous multiplication of dinners-this One in Four -this Four in One-the harmony of the moral system is preserved-and all works together for the general good. Looked at artistically, we have here what the Germans and others say is essential to the beautiful and the sublime-Unity.

NORTH. I believe the Four Dinners-if weighed separately-would be found not to differ by a pound. This man's fish might prove in the scale a few ounces heavier than

that man's-but in such case, his fowl would be found just so many ounces lighter. And so on. The Puddings are cast in the same mould-and the things equal to the same thing, are equal to one another.

TALBOYS. The weight of each repast? NORTH. Calculated at twenty-five pounds. TALBOYS. Grand total, one hundred. The golden mean.

NORTH. From these general views, to descend to particulars. Soup (turtle) two pounds-Hotch, ditto-Fish (Trout) two pounds-Flesh (Jigot-black face five year old,) six pounds-Fowl (Howtowdie boiled) five pounds-Duck (wild) three poundsTart (gooseberry) one pound-Pud (Variorum Edition) two pounds.

BULLER. That is but twenty-three, sir! I have taken down the gentleman's words. NORTH. Polite-and grateful. But you

have omitted sauces and creams, breads and cheeses. Did you ever know me incorrect in my figures, in any affirmation or denial, private or public?

BULLER. Never. Beg pardon.

NORTH. Now that the soups and fishes seem disposed of, I boldly ask you, one and all, gentlemen, if you ever beheld Four more tempting Jigots?

TALBOYS. I am still at my fish. No fish so sweet as of one's own catching—so I have the advantage of you all. This one herethe one I am eating at this blessed moment -I killed in what the man with the Landingnet called the Birk Pool. I know him by his peculiar physiognomy-an odd cast in his eye-which has not left him on the gridiron. That Trout of my killing on your plate, Mr. Seward, made the fatal plunge at the tail of the stream so overhung with Alders that you can take it successfully only by the tail-and I know him by his color, almost as silvery as a whitling. Yours Mr. Buller, was the third I killed-just where the river-for a river he is to-day, whatever he may be to-morrow-goes whirling into the Loch-and I can swear to him from his leopard spots. Illustrious sir, of him whom you have now disposed of-the finest of the Four-I remember saying inwardly, as with difficulty I encreeled him-for his shoulders were like a hog's-this for the King.

NORTH. Your perfect Pounder, Talboys, is the beau-ideal of a Scottish Trout. How he cuts up! If much heavier-you are frustrated in your attempts to eat him thoroughly-have to search-probably in vain-for what in a perfect Pounder lies patent to the day-he is to back-bone comeatable

SEWARD. I gave Mr. Talboys the first of the water, and followed him—a mere caprice -with the Archimedean Minnow. I had a run-but just as the monster opened his jaws to absorb he suddenly eschewed the scentless phenomenon, and with a sullen plunge, sunk into the deep.

BULLER. I tried the natural minnow after Seward but I wished Archimedes at Syracuse for the Screw had spread a panicand in a panic the scaly people lose all power of discrimination, and fear to touch a minnow, lest it turn up a bit of tin or some other precious metal.

NORTH. I have often been lost in conjecturing how you always manage to fill your creel, Talboys; for the truth is-and it must be spoken-you are no angler.

TALBOYS. I can afford to smile! I was no angler, sir, ten years ago-now I am. But how did I become one? By attending you, sir-for seven seasons-along the Tweed and the Yarrow, the Clyde and the Daer, the Tay and the Tummel, the Don and the Dee -and treasuring up lessons from the Great Master of the Art.

NORTH. You surprise me! Why, you never put a single question to me about the art-always declined taking rod in handseemed reading some book or other, held close to your eyes-or lying on banks a-dose or poetizing or facetious with the Old Man -or with the Old Man serious-and sometimes more than serious, as, sauntering along our winding way, we conversed of man, of nature, and of human life.

TALBOYS. I never lost a single word you said, sir, during those days, breathing in every sense "vernal delight and joy," yet all the while I was taking lessons in the art. The flexure of your shoulder-the sweep of your arm-the twist of your wrist-your Delivery, and your Recover-that union of grace and power-the utmost delicacy, with the most perfect precision-All these qualities of a Heaven-born Angler, by which you might be known from all other men on the banks of the Whittadder on a Fastday

NORTH. I never angled on a Fast-day. TALBOYS. A lapsus linguæ-From a hundred anglers on the Daer, on the Queen's Birth-day

NORTH. My dear Friend, you exTALBOYS. All those qualities of a Heavenborn Angler I learned first to admire-then to understand-and then to imitate. VOL. XVIII. NO. L

For

5

three years I practised on the carpet-for three years I essayed on a pond-for three I strove by the running waters-and still the Image of Christopher North was before me till emboldened by conscious acquisition and constant success, I came forth and took my place among the anglers of my country. BULLER. To-day I saw you fast in a tree. TALBOYS. You mean my Fly.

BULLER. First your Fly, and then, I think, yourself.

TALBOYS. I have seen Il Maestro himself in Timber, and in brushwood too. From him I learned to disentangle knots, intricate and perplexed far beyond the Gordian"with frizzled hair implicit"-round twig, branch, or bole. Not more than half-a-dozen times of the forty that I may have been fast aloft-I speak mainly of my novitiate-have I had to effect liberation by sacrifice.

SEWARD. Pardon me, Mr. Talboys, for hinting that you smacked off your tail-fly today-I knew it by the sound.

TALBOYS. The sound! No trusting to an uncertain sound, Mr. Seward. Oh! I did so once-but intentionally-the hook had lost the barb-not a fish would it hold-so I whipped it off, and on with a Professor.

BULLER. You lost one good fish in rather an awkward manner, Mr. Talboys.

TALBOYS. I did that metal minnow of yours came with a splash within an inch of his nose-and no wonder he broke me—nay, I believe it was the minnow that broke meand yet you can speak of my losing a good fish in rather an awkward manner!

NORTH. It is melancholy to think that I have taught Young Scotland to excel myself in all the Arts that adorn and dignify life. Till I rose, Scotland was a barbarous country

TALBOYS. Do say, my dear sir, semi-civil

ized.

NORTH. Now it heads the Nations-and I may set.

TALBOYS. And why should that be a melancholy thought, sir?

NORTH. Oh, Talboys-National Ingratitude! They are fast forgetting the man who made them what they are--in a few fleeting centuries the name of Christopher North will be in oblivion! Would you believe it possible, gentlemen, that even now, there are Scotsmen who never heard of the Fly that bears the name of me, its Inventor-Killing Kit!

BULLER. In Cornwall it is a household

word.

SEWARD. And in all the Devons.