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SUMMER SPORTS ON MOUNTAIN, STREAM, AND LAKE.

BY A WELSH ANGLER.

(Continued.)

The sun streamed his rays through the opening in the snow-white curtains of my latticed window, ere I awoke from this long unbroken slumber, My landlady's staircase clock struck seven as I sprang up to open the window, when the cool fragrance of the morning breeze reproached me that I had missed it so long.

On turning into the room where we had passed the previous evening, I found breakfast and my friend already there; his open fly-book, coils of gut, hooks, and other similar gear, showed him bent on preparing for the coming day's sport.

But coffee, eggs, mutton chops, broiled fish, &c., now steamed upon the table, and admonishing each other that the route we were determined on gave little prospect of dinner, we deported ourselves accordingly.

Our next care was the extra fish; and having superintended its package, with fresh nettles above and beneath-a cool and effective mode of preserving the finny tribe when sent on their travels-they were addressed to a distant friend, whom we desired should thus substantially share some portion of the pleasures we enjoyed. Then calling for the bill, we thanked the hostess for her great civility, and, shouldering our rods, set our backs on Llangedwin Green inn, and our faces to that of Cause Office, the station we next designed to fish at, and pass the coming night. Our landlady attended us to the gate, made her best curtsey, and doubtless the anxiety expressed for a repetition of the visit was sincere. Poor Goldsmith seems not far from right: the traveller

"Finds his warmest welcome at an inn."

We now fairly" took to the road," and, beyond cavil, as highwaymen too. The route we had selected presented all the variety of wood and valley peculiar to a journey through almost any district of Wales. It was one continued ascent and descent; now winding through a deep verdant hollow, broken into a thousand little eminences clothed with the richest oak timber; now winding round the summit of a hill, bare indeed of foliage, but overspread with other mountain verdure, the haunt and breeding place of numerous packs of grouse.

We had now reached Llanfillin-a small market town by the side of a pretty stream, tributary to Tanad, and, in full water stocked with trout of moderate size. But it was not our cue to loiter there; for Verniew lay little more than five miles distant. So, confining our achievements to the demolition of some capital bottled porter, and passing the Brogan, another litttle trout stream, we reached Pont Robert, on the upper arm of that "Piscosus amnis," the anciently renowned Verniew. Without a moment's delay, we slipped down to the first gravel in view. There, seated on my basket, I soon got my rod together, my recl line

out, with a footlength garnished with a green tail for the point fly, and a blue dun, March brown, and coch-y-bonddhu for droppers. I as speedily had it flourishing upon the stream, that here runs in gentle ripples over a stony bottom, from which large masses of rock rear themselves, or lie flat beneath the surface, harbouring beneath their base many a goodly trout.

We stood upon a long stretch of shingle, bounded by clear open meadows behind us. On the opposite side, a large wood of mingled trees descended to the water, throwing into deep shadow all beneath the shelter of its foliage. Here was a capital place! which I turned to good account by occasionally wading mid-thigh deep. The green-tail fly drew out thence a dozen in less than thirty minutes-of no great size indeed, but very handsome-looking fish, the only alloy to my sport being the necessity of returning ashore to unhook each capture. You cannot, with any prudence, venture to basket them while standing in the

stream.

My comrade had likewise done his devoir a few score yards lower down, and we reckoned about fifteen brace between us, when the sun looked out with so inflamed a visage as to send every fish larger than a gudgeon skulking beneath the rocks. What was to be done? Eat or sleep; or both? Nem. con., we voted for the former as a commencement, leaving the "sopor" to follow in its wake.

The next business was to cast about for an hostel, and we again mounted the bridge to facilitate our search. No village-no roadside dwelling was in view, and, in this terra incognita, we knew not exactly where to steer for one. We therefore decided once more to be our own caterers and cooks. Plenty of old fences were in view, when drift wood failed; and, gipsey like, we began to acquire in the matter of fuel rather latitudinarian ideas of meum and tuum. So to it we went. The blue smoke soon curled gracefully among the tree tops; and our fish, split open, cleansed, and washed, frizzed merrily before the fire, kindled against the root of a great hollow oak. Rich and savoury rose the steam to our nostrils, as their coats peeled and crackled with the heat; and nothing was wanting to the feast but the simple accessories of bread and salt of these we possessed nor grain nor crumb.

The fish were just unspitted upon the clean flat pebbles, selected by each as a primitive sort of trencher, when a farmer's buxom daughter hove in sight, attired, like most of her countrywomen, in a man's broad beaver hat, under which her dark hair appeared among a copious allowance of cap and ribbon, and sporting a gorgeous crimson petticoat beneath a short jerkin of red-and-brown plaid. Pleased to see so fair a specimen of native beauty and costume, but more pleased to think she might somehow aid us in our present straits, we by signs expressed our desire of a more intimate acquaintance.

"

Her

There was no lack of curiosity on either side; with us, it was limited to admiration of the pretty Cambrian's exquisite limbs, easy gait, and faultless bust. By-the-bye, some old classic poet professes to have been enraptured with the high-breasted" maidens of ancient Britain. eye, on the contrary, with undisguised curiosity, wandered everywhere; now to ourselves, now to our cookery, and last, not least, to the heap of broken fence that lay by, ready from time to time to sustain a fire. "Stolen property, no doubt; and my father the wronged one," thought

she, but nothing said. Our first move was to rise from the old oak stump, which the winter flood had conveniently deposited there, and request her to share our seat. This she quietly accepted; not so the offer to share our provender.

"Nam o'Goodness-what it is? What you have?"

"Trouts-boiled trouts. Shall I help you to one?"

"No, indeed!" she cried most energetically, starting to her feet, "I hate him in my heart!"

We could have suggested that "stomach" would have been more germane to the matter, but did not.

Finding she declined our hospitality, we solicited hers. "There are three things," say the Sixty-four Welsh Triads of Politeness, "for which nobody should receive payment of a stranger or a traveller, when they require them-milk, salt, bread."

Her home was the whitened farm-house on a hill side, some fourhundred yards up stream, and we were told that these articles might readily be had there. for the trouble of fetching. Thither I went; and our charming acquaintance, who hated trout, proved so much better than her word, that she piled my basket with eggs, and slices of ham to boot, not to mention the offer and acceptance of a huge mutchkin of buttermilk, in which, at leave taking, I pledged her to the bottom. To this latter ceremony, she answered with a hearty laugh, which unaffectedly displayed what might be well described as rows of pearls incased in a casket of rubies.

One by one I turned out upon the clean white gravel the imposing items of my successful morning's forage. The sight of these dainties, literally added fuel to the flame: more and more wood was heaped upon the grey ashes of our waning fire. Then began such a broiling, roasting, and frizzling, as I'll be sworn old Verniew never witnessed upon its banks since Geraldus Cambrensis noted and proclaimed its piscatory qualities to the world. Great trouts were impaled through the gills upon green rods slanting over the fire, eggs cracked and exploded in the embers, while (may her spirit be assoiled!) the damsel's collops of ham curled deliciously upon pointed hazel rods, that well supplied the place of forks. At length, those two abominations of the Jewish law, hog's flesh and unscaled fish, lay dished amicably together upon one broad, flat stone, as before a couple of minor ones were our trenchers; and thus we converted what had begun as a slight refection only, into a solid, substantial dinner. The spirit-flask and the sparkling stream lay within arms' length, and then-we fell a sleep.

"Malus piscator dormit supinus."

A pattering shower, that spotted the stones and bedewed our visages, after a while murdered sleep. The sun was nowhere; a cloud, dark as Erebus and Nox, lay between us and observation.

If Mercury be the patron of thieves, his Godship has few votaries in Montgomeryshire. Our rods, baskets, and their contents-not omitting the contents of our pockets-although abandoned by a path side to the tender mercies of every wayfarer, had remained intact. Springing to our feet, we shouldered the one and grasped the other-for an hysterical April day, though unseasonable for sleep, is remarkably good for fishing. The pattering drops, dancing on the pools, and beating down lots

of insect food from the bushes, brought every trout from his rocky fastness, and soon added three brace to our previous captures.

But the clouds were rolling heavily from the south-west, and evening approached. We had yet to secure a shelter for the night. Prudence, therefore, dictated a retreat from a spot where the combination of rock, stream, and eddy render it all the most fastidious fisherman can desire. The worst thing was-we could not revisit it.

Well, instead of keeping the road straight forwards to Pont Delanog, as we ought to have done, our course was first north, then west, which brought us to Pont Logel, near Llwydearth Park, the third domicile of Sir Watkin we had fallen in with in a short day's journey.

It was now about half-past five; an additional six miles still lay before us. One hour's stout walking reduced the distance to two miles ; when, seeing a gentlemanly-looking parson (your Welsh reverend often looks and acts like anything but a gentleman) approach on horseback, we accosted him with

"A os gwestdy os pentref yn agas ynna ?-Is there an inn, is there a village near this place?" He replied in good Saxon

"Two miles off, gentlemen, and a glass of sparkling ale and comfortable lodging await you.'

Presently a tall figure came looming in the distance, “making his legs his compasses," like Martinus Scribblerus and ourselves. A trifling wager with my friend, as to the new comer's height, induced us to accost him also. I lost my bet, but found a landlord. Inquiring the character of the inn we sought

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"I am most bound to praise it" quoth he, "seeing I am Gwr y ty" (the master.)

"A fedrwch chwi adael i mi gael gwelly?" (Can you let us have beds ?)

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Gallwch" (Yes, you can).

"A swpper?" (And supper?) "Oes." (yes).

"Have with you then." And, although bound to the mountain to look after his flock, which roamed unchecked over thousands of acres, Boniface turned and accompanied us to the hospice.

Here, the first motion was to disencumber ourselves of rods, baskets, and a certain detestable nuisance, in the form of a knapsack, with which each at starting had burdened his shoulders. This we had now borne for the first and most certainly for the last stage. Anglers! tourists! simple pedestrians! to whichever of these three distinctions ye appertain, eschew it; send on your luggage by carrier's cart; such means of transit pass regularly from town to town. The expense is paltry. Of a bright sunny day, try the encumbrance of even a single change of linen dragging down your jacket pocket, and you will rue it.

We next called stoutly for some of that sparkling beverage which the parson had so confidently extolled. The appearance of our little Jewishlooking hostess, as the bearer of two goblets thereof acted upon our parched throats like oil poured upon flame, and added to the fury of an already intolerable thirst. "Glasses, glasses are your only drinking," thought she; as Falstaff once pursuaded another hostess, Dame Quickly. We thought otherwise; so, dismissing this maudlin supply for a foaming beaker, tall, capacious, and overflowing, we drew long and deeply upon

its contents. Then, striking upon the bell, Boniface again made his appearance within the doorway; his visage "an everlasting bonfire-a perpetual light," and we entered upon the following dialogue :

Well, landlord! just the person we rang for. How's the river? What chance of sport to-morrow?"

"Indeed, gentlemen, she is capital order." (N.B.—A Welshman styles everything "she" but his wife, and her he styles "he.")

"Lord Clive's keepers not draw net once this year as yet.' "Excellent! Pabeth a fedrwch chwi roi i ni i ginio?" quoth I, again (condescendingly vouchsafing him a touch of the vernacular). "What can we have for dinner, independently of these fish, which your wife will have the kindness to introduce to the fryingpan?"

"Anything gentlemen. What you plas.'

He uttered this with so bold and confident an air, that I, who had known the sons of Cadwallader long and well, began to relax my suspicions anent the state of his larder. My friend, who really fancied his evening lot had fallen into a pleasant land, now prit la parole.

"Good!” cried he, approvingly. "Suppose then it be an additiona beef steak."

“Ind-e-e-d '” (“the deed," like wounded snake, dragged its slow length along) she's very sorry-she have no beef."

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"No? let it be mutton then. Come, a dish of collops cut from the prime end of the loin."

"Indeed, she's very sorry, too! she have no mutton in house. If not too late, I go myself to mountain and kill her."

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Aye, aye? But while the grass grows the steed starves.' You know the proverb. There's veal probably-stewed veal garnished with slices of lemon, may do."

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Now, only think what pity! she ant seen bit veal this spring." "In the name of starvation, then! exclaimed two hoarse carnivorous throats, by one and the same impulse, what can you give us?"

"Indeed, there's h-a-m (pronounced with great elongation of the vowel) and fresh eggs, plenty-iss, indeed!"

"Oh! what a falling off was there, my countrymen!" From visions of a luxurious repast, made up of "everything, and what you please, to the offer of that thirst-begetting, sleep-destroying, fever-producing, unwholesome abomination of Jew and Turk, yclept ham and eggs! Whilst thus engaged anathematizing Boniface's proffer of the unclean beast, the cackling of poultry sounded from the road without.

"Soho landlord!" we shouted. "Whose chickens are those?" "Mine! mine!" roared he, with corresponding energy, as if at once solving the Gordian knot of his difficulty. "Mine! mine! Nam o'goodness, would plas like him? Nice young cock, look you-plump as pheasant poult—”

"Like! like! from both voices.

Let him not live an instant!" sounded in unison

The host and his rib, dashing into the road, were speedily in chase of the devoted biped. Then came a dreadful scrimmage in the foldyard; and the sympathetic clucking of a score of widowed hens, mingling with the captive's hoarse death-note, informed us that our behest had been most literally fulfilled.

"Arcades ambo;" two modern Dalgettys, ever dreaming and talk