"I had concluded again that the new tenantry had all been evicted, and was casting 'most extended' trying the powers of the rod and reaching, I should say, sixty feet out. As the flies came half-way in and I was just about snatching them out for a long back cast, the father of the family soared after them in a gleaming arc. He missed by not three inches and bored his way straight down into the depths of the clear green water. 'My heart went out to him,' as our friend Wells said, but coaxing was in vain. I tried them above and below, sinking the flies deeply, or dropping them airily upon the waves, but to no purpose. I had the comforting thought that we may pick him up when you are here this summer."
John Gill, Portland, Oregon.
THE BONNY RED HECKLE
Away frae the smoke an' the smother,
Away frae the crush o' the thrang!
Away frae the labour an' pother
That have fettered our freedom sae lang!
For the May's i' full bloom i' the hedges
And the laverock's aloft i' the blue,
An' the south wind sings low i' the sedges,
By haughs that are silvery wi' dew.
Up, angler, off wi' each shackle!
Up, gad and gaff, and awa'!
Cry 'Hurrah for the canny red heckle,
The heckle that tackled them a'!'
* * * * * * * * * *
Then back to the smoke and the smother,
The uproar and crush o' the thrang;
An' back to the labour and pother,
But happy and hearty and strang.
Wi' a braw light o' mountain and muirland,
Outflashing frae forehead and e'e,
Wi' a blessing flung back to the norland,
An' a thousand, dear Coquet, to thee!
As again we resume the old shackle,
Our gad an' our gaff stowed awa',
An'—goodbye to the canny 'red heckle,'
The heckle that tackled them a'!'
—From "The Lay of the Lea." By Thomas Westwood.
Note—I am indebted to Mrs. Mary Orvis Marbury, author of "Favorite Flies," for copies of "Hey for Coquet," and "Farewell to Coquet," from the former of which the foregoing are extracts.