SALMON FISHING IN THE HIGHLANDS.

BY PISCATOR.

ENGRAVED BY GODDEN, FROM A SKETCH BY LEWIS.

Writing on Highland sports is at best but second-hand sort of work; a good deal like the critiques on the last performance at the Italian Opera House, or on one of Jem Robinson's grand rushes, or Prince Albert's portraits-all pretty certain of being "about the very finest thing that ever was seen." Still we readily believe that the trumpet has never yet been sounded too loud in favour of the diversions practised over the border; there is a high dash of enterprise and earnestness about them, one and all, very inviting, and rendered not the less so by the few opportunities of finding such recommendations (pure and unadulterated) in any other quarter of the United Kingdom. Here, in whatever line the sportsman purposes to occupy himself, whether affecting the mountain or the flood, whether in chevying the wild roe, or catching the wild salmon, he may reckon with tolerable safety on the same wary characteristic spirit in the enemy, and the same national grandeur in the various scenes and situations into which the ardour of pursuit will hurry him. Fishing, eight times in ten, is said to be finished almost immediately that it begins, or, in plain matter of fact, that when you hook them you have them; a very different game, however, from this must be played with that king of the river and grandee in the sea, the salmon; a rough customer, who only shows fight when others would give in, and does his best to put his opponent into difficulties immediately on finding he is in them himself. And then something further is required beyond the elegant well-directed cast, or the happy artistic strike-a little more power and science to keep up with or counteract the efforts of a resolute, downright, determined monster, that will run out as fast as a buck, pull as hard as a horse, and jump as high as a house! a very water fiend, who, after forcing you through fearful passes, down mighty falls, full worthy of their title, and at length, vi et armis, into his own element: after standing a good half-hour's bay, and continuing all through the battle a terrible stretch on your line and your temper, will in the end afford ample satisfaction by rendering up an account of some dozen pounds in honest avoirdupois, a sight of which alone shall excite the admiration of your friends, and the envy of your fishmonger.

Sportsmen are not, or rather were not some years since, remarkable for their attachment or proficiency in literary pursuits, and yet there is scarcely a work, not even excepting Blackstone or Euclid, which requires a more determined course of study than a book of

flies. Messrs. Walton, Cotton, Ronalds, and such like worthies, are all very well in their way, having the excellent knack of blending amusement with their instruction, and poetry with their prose-a plan that leads the reader on, fisher or no fisher, willy nilly, till the author is the first to cry enough! But the fly-book, with a sample for every day in the year, for every stream in the land, and every fish in the water, a dull, dry, hard-reading affair, full of precedents and cases in point, should be crammed night and morn with a wet towel round the brow to keep the head cool, and a glass of grog in hand to keep the wit keen. In the Highlands, as in most other districts, it has long been the fashion to act in accordance with these rules, by suiting the fly to the fish, and crying up the use of a certain description, with which alone tradition affirms the salmon can be induced to surrender. Now it is not our intention at present to enter on so comprehensive and contradictory a subject as this union of nature and art offers; and we can only say that we know a thorough Welshman, and thorough sportsman, who, after committing great slaughter in his native streams, near the town of Machynlleth, determined, by way of a change, to leave North Wales, and try his hand in North Britain. On his arrival, he declared, to the astonishment of all, his intention of making his first effort with the same fly he had adopted with so much success in the home-practice; and even a look at the stream and his new neighbours' very killing weapons, found him still obstinately bent upon it. For the first throw or two it needed some strength of mind and purpose to persevere, the lairds laughed so "consumedly" at the idea of using such a monstrositywhen look there! by Saint David! Ap-Shenkin Ap-Morgan has struck something or other that's tugging and tearing away like a steam engine; an otter, most likely, or may be only a water-rat, it can't be a fish. Can't it? looks most amazingly like one, too; and there's that pig-headed Welshman puffing and chattering and rattling the double consonants out, one on the top of another, as if he was sure of it. We feel half afraid for the sake of our veracity to add, that the finish of the first day showed him far a-head, either as to the weight of any individual fish, or the whole strength of the take, and what's more, the finish of his six week's stay showed a similar result. For the satisfaction of the curious we will give the names of the gentleman and his double deceiver-yet on second thoughts we will not, being convinced it would be the means of staying many a piscatorial student's enthusiasm, and of closing his book with a blessing on "that Welsh fellow's fly, which will take any fish with a fin."

Another word on another tack: it has long been a matter of dispute between the active and passive, which can be considered the finest fun-catching a salmon, or eating him? Without, as we well might, contenting ourselves with Sir Roger's sapient and satisfactory decision, that "much might be said on both sides," we will tell the disputants a short story. An old lady receiving a good-sized hamper, without a farthing for carriage or even a warehouse fee to pay for it, in the fullness of her heart asked the porter, an Irishman, what he'd take, a glass of ale, or a drop of something short? "By my faith, thin," said pat, assuming one of his most irresistible smiles, "by my

faith thin, your Ladyship, if it's all the same to you, I'd be trying a taste of both of 'em."

The moral is as excellent as palpable. All ye who back the belly, come, if it is only for the novelty of the thing, and see if for some short period you cannot manage to cater for yourselves; and try a little of the celebrated Spartan sauce which excels, perhaps, in flavour, that prince of condiments, Lopresti's liquid cayenne. And ye too, who do practise what we preach and our artist paints, take the goods the gods provide you; send not all the finest fish South, and fare not incessantly yourselves on over-dried braxie and double-proof whiskey, but join divarshun with appetite, and, as Paddy says, "be taking a taste of both of 'em."

THE YACHTING SEASON FOR 'FORTY-FIVE.

BY CRAVEN.

Once more upon the waters.-BYRON.

Within the last few years, the sport of yachting has acquired popularity at the rate of compound interest: now the taste is all for the sea-service. Pleasure-sailing can boast no very lengthened lineage, the origin of the Royal Yacht Squadron dating no farther back that the year 1812. It was then, too, an ultra-exclusive pastime ; and thus with the parent institution whence first it derived its "local habitation, and a name" it still continues. They say, indeed, that a spirit of cliquism is fostered by certain members of the squadron which works anything but well for the general estimation of the club, or the advancement of its personal cordialities. This is to be lamented, if it be the case, for every cause; besides, it is so essentially uncharacteristic! Jack is the very moral and natural beau ideal of goodfellowship. He has no notion of giving himself airs: when he wants them, he whistles, looks mysteriously to windward, mutters cabalistically, "Blow, good breeze;" and anticipates the fulfilment of his incantation, by giving the barky a little more mainsheet. If his aris tocratic type would follow the same suit, he would find it a specific for pleasure cruising, whether ashore or afloat. Instead of beating through society close hauled, and endeavouring to weather the whole human fleet, let him ease away handsomely a point or two, and go a little more free. My word for it, his run will be all the smoother,