bonnet in the struggle, and distinguished the white cockade dancing like a little 'cailleach' of foam in the vortex of the pool below. Being now morally relieved from the weight of the roe and guns-though resolved to preserve them to the last-I resumed my attempt for the west bank; but when I reached a similar distance to that which I had gained for the other, I found an equally deep channel before me, and that the diminished water by which I had been encouraged was only the shoaling of a long bank which extended with the stream. I now saw that before I joined my bonnet, which still danced and circled in the pool below, there was only one effort left-to struggle up the stream, and reach the point from which I had taken the water. But this was a desperate attempt; for at every step I had to find a safe footing at the upper side of some stone, and then with all my strength to force myself against the current. But often the stones gave way, and, loosening from their bed, went rolling and rumbling down the rapid, and I was driven back several feet, to recommence the same struggle. The river also was still increasing, and the flat sand, which was dry when I left it, was now a sheet of water. While I was thus wrestling with the stream, I saw Dreadnought enter, not at his usual place in the pool, but at the tail, just above the run of the stream in which I was struggling. He came whimpering over, and crossed about a yard or two above me; but instead of making for the bank, he turned in the water and swam towards me. The stream, however, was too strong for him, and carried him down. I called and waved to the forest, and he turned and steered for its bank, but did not reach the shelving sand till he was well tumbled in the top of the rapid, out of which he only emerged in time to catch a little back-water, which helped him on to the shore. The attempt of the dog to reach me had passed while I rested; and when he gained the bank I resumed my effort to make the shallower

water.

"Dreadnought's eye was turned towards me as he came dripping up the bank, and seeing me move forward, without stopping to trundle himself, he ran before me to the water's edge at the right entrance of the ford, whining and howling, and baying, as if he knew as well as I that it was the place to make for. In a few steps the stones became less slippery, and the bottom more even, and I began to think that I might gain it, when, at the rocky point above, I saw a white mass of foam loaded with brushwood, sticks, and rubbish, borne along by a ridge of yellow curdling water, at least two feet higher than the stream. I gathered all my strength and made a struggle for the bank opposite to where I was. The water was already above my belt, and rushing between my arms as I bore up the guns. I felt myself lifted off my legs again I held the ground. The green bank was only a few yards distant, but the deep water was close below, and the yellow foaming flood above. As I staggered on, I heard it coming down crumpling up and crackling the dead boughs which it bore along. I stumbled upon a round stone, and nearly fell backward, but it was against the stream which forced me forward. I felt the spray splash over my head: I was nearly blind and deaf. I made a desperate effort with the last strength which I had left, and threw myself gasping on the bank. Dreadnought sprang forward, jumped over and over me, whined, and kissed my face and hands, and tried to turn me over with his snout, and scratched and pawed me to make me speak; but I could not yet, and gasped and choked and felt as if my heart would burst. I lay dripping and panting, with my arms stretched out on the grass, unable to move, except with the convulsive efforts of my breath. At last I sat up, but I could scarcely see: a thin gauzy cloud was over my eyes, a heavy pressure rung in my ears, my feet still hung in the water, which was now sweeping a wide white torrent from bank to bank, and running with a fierce current through both the pools below. The back-water, where my bonnet had danced, no longer remained; all was carried clear out in one long rush down to the Cluag. Benedictum sit nomen Domini! I thought as I crossed myself. I stretched out my hand and plucked the nearest flowers,

and smelled their sweet greenwood scent with inexpressible delight. I never thought that flowers looked so beautiful, or had half so much perfume, though they were only the pale wild blossoms of the fading year. I placed them in my breast, and have them still, and never look upon them without repeating

" DE PROFUNDIS CLAMAVI AD TE DOMINE!'"

Has Cooper, in all the wild romance of his "Last of the Mohicans," or any other work of the kind, ever excelled-could you name any passage to even equal either for interest in the adventure itself, or the nervous strength with which it is told, this crossing of " the Findhorn?" Nay! has their own countryman, Sir Walter, ever sketched a Highlander's daring with more effect? Their poetry, we have said, will not bear it, while, on the other hand, the prose writings of the brothers Stuart cannot suffer from any comparison with the great Wizard of the North.

Our notice has already, what with extract and comment, far exceeded the limit usually allowed for review papers. Dropping then the first or poem part of the work in toto, we cannot recommend the essay on deer-stalking in terms too strong or great for its worth. It has, first of all, the grounding virtue, the foundation that no work on the subject was ever yet built on-constant experience in the haunts and habits of the deer; an experience, backed with a taste and determination, that has gradually and naturally made the brothers perfect masters of the art. When to this you can add a style and a power such as are exhibited in what we have quoted, their contributions cannot be but read with extraordinary relish. As a faithful picture of Highland sporting life, the book has an indescribable freshness and charm; while the authors' fondness for local tradition, and many original observations and anecdotes as naturalists, will give theirs a reading far beyond the usual range of sporting tomes.

One word more. Hard perhaps in places we may have been-we feel ourselves almost too hard. Such a system, however, of impartial justice can in the end but tell better for both sides, and we know our "bene" must so have more weight than if we had altogether shirked what was "unequal," and called attention only to what was excellent. We shall then let what we have written stand, as being honestly able to answer for every word of it-regretting only that with such a well stocked stream to fish from, and such capital tackle to fish with, the great Christopher had not lent the brothers a hand in putting their rod together.

LITERATURE.

THE BOOK OF SOUTH WALES, THE BRISTOL CHANNEL, MONMOUTHShire, and the WYE (Second Edition enlarged), by Charles Frederick Cliffe. London: Hamilton, Adams, and Co., Paternoster Row.-We hail with much satisfaction the appearance of a "second edition" of this interesting and valuable work. The public, and more especially the angling portion of it, whose footsteps are ever ready to adventure

into the wildest of nature's recesses in search of sport, have much to thank Mr. Cliffe for, in the production of a guide so clear, minute, and truthful; nor have they failed to give substantial proofs of their approbation by purchasing the first edition and calling for a second. The author has availed himself of the opportunity to re-write a considerable portion of his work, and to add fresh material where he considered his account in the first instance to have been scanty. In this way we have an addition of nearly a hundred pages to the letter-press, besides new illustrations and improved maps. He has worked up the county of Cardigan in a masterly manner, developing, in his own neat and graphic style, its scenery, antiquities, and lakes. To many of our fishermen-readers, the account of the Tewy lakes, and the fishing at Tregaron and its neighbourhood, will be acceptable; for although Mr. Cliffe is not very profuse in his remarks upon these subjects, nor has he space, keen angler as he is, yet sufficient information is given to induce the sportsman to try for a season one of the most romantic and wildest districts in Wales; if not, indeed, very prolific in large trout, yet still offering a basket-full of "such as they are" under ordinary circumstances. We can only express our best wishes, in conclusion, for the complete success of the second edition of a book, without which no one should venture in South Wales, who is desirous of carrying with him an entertaining companion and intelligent guide.

A HAND-BOOK OF ANGLING. By Ephemera. Second Edition, improved and extended. London: Longman and Co. 1848.--We did justice to Mr. Fitzgibbon's Hand-book on the appearance of the first edition, as a practical work on fishing, both as a science and a pastime. In the volume before us he has introduced some disquisitions on the natural history of the salmon, from which we select a passage, without pledging ourselves to subscribe either to their theory or their philosophy. For instance, we may not be quite convinced that the identity of the parr and the salmon is absolutely established, while we have considerable doubts that "the day may come when the killing of the parr will be made universally penal." The author avails himself of the opinions of many other men, as Mr. Scrope, Messrs. Shaw and Young, Mr. Allies, and others. We confine our quotations to his own views:

THE SALMON.-Salmo Salar.

"The natural history of this splendid fish, the pride and profit of the great rivers of the British Isles, was not known until about ten years ago. The greatest natural historians, from the French Lacépède down to our own observant Yarrell, were ignorant of many of the main features of its existence. Until the period alluded to, we were nearly all in error with respect to its growth; and we thought the parr a distinct species. We have now ascertained its growth, and know positively that the parr is a young salmon of the first year-a fact the knowledge of which is of importance with respect to the preservation of the fish. The day may come when the killing of parr will be made universally a penal offence. We also know that up to its second year the growth of salmon is exceedingly slow; that afterwards it is wonderfully rapid, but in salt water only. Once a grilse or a salmon, fresh water is fatal to its growth.

"I shall, before I enter into detail, give in a very few words the salient points of the salmon's natural history. The female salmon-viz., the fish with what is commonly called the 'hard roe'-deposits its eggs, spawn, or

ova in gravel beds, in the autumn and winter months. Simultaneously with deposition, the ova are impregnated by the spawn (the milt) of the male fish, or soft roe,' being exuded over them. That is the active process of procreation. The deposited eggs or ova are hatched on an average from ninety to one hundred and forty days, duration of time depending on the temperature of the water. The warmer the water, the more rapid is the work of incubation. In a few days after expulsion from the ova, the incubated matter assumes the fish shape. This embryo salmon grows slowly, and remains for the first year the diminutive parr or fingerling. On completing its first year, it changes its coat, and indeed its shape. The parr or samlet marks and spots disappear, and it becomes the silver-grey smolt, salmon fry, or lastspring. Its first year, or thereabouts, being completed, it migrates for the first time to the sea; and in two or three months or more returns to its parent river a gilse or grilse, having increased a pound and more during every month it has tarried in sea-water. About the end of its second year, or the beginning of its third (I am speaking of the female fish; for the puerile parr will breed, horresco referens, with its great grand-dam), it breeds, and soon after migrates for the second time to the sea. A sojourn there of a few weeks changes its name, size, and shape; and immigrating again into its native stream, it becomes a salmon. To deserve that name it must have made two voyages to sea, and entered the third year, or thereabouts, of its existence. Afterwards, as long as it lives, it visits the sea annually, and annually revisits the streams of its birth, in which it gives birth to thousands of its tribe. Become an adult, the longer it remains at sea, the more rapid is its growth. In fresh water it no longer thrives, and seems to seek the pure element for no other purpose than the important one of propagating its species. I have now in a very few lines traced the grand outlines of salmon life. I shall now confine myself to some minute details, omitting those that I do not think it necessary for the mere angler to know."

Some confusion is made in the contents as to the pages at which the chapters fall; for instance, chap. x., from which our extract is made, occurs at page 271, and not at page 299, as in the index.

PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS OF THE METROPOLIS.

"Finis coronat opus."

That's a fact demon

The season of Forty-eight has run its course. strated by closing of doors, departures from town, farewell speeches, and such-like indications of the end of the season. And such a season, too! So disastrous in its associations to many a one whose bright anticipations were too surely doomed to be cruelly crushed, the issue having proved destructive to all those fond hopes entertained by managers at the beginning of a season. It is to be wished that "there's a good time coming" for all those whose interests have suffered so immensely during the last few months. Certain it is that the present complexion of affairs favours the supposition that, for the advent of the "good time," it is requisite to "wait a little longer."

The event of the past month, in the musical world, is the production of Meyerbeer's celebrated opera, "Les Huguenots," at the ROYAL ITALIAN OPERA. Under ordinary circumstances, this opera would have been received with no common attention; but on this occasion, the first

representation taking place under the auspices of royalty, no surprise can be evinced that the furore attending the performance was something beyond all anticipations of success. A "royal command" being rather a rarity now-a-days, is safe to fill a house, and (one would naturally suppose) its director's treasury; but if it be true that the fittingsup and decorations-which, by the way, bore the impress of the great good taste associated with the name of Mr. F. Gye-exceeded by six hundred pounds the sum paid for the royal box, it is reasonable to infer that the "gain" appears to be of that description which, if often repeated, would prove to be rather unpleasant in its results. Viardot Garcia, as Valentine, appears to greater advantage than she has hitherto enjoyed before a British audience. Her execution of the music allotted her is thrilling in the extreme. Alboni, as Urbain, the page, contributes her great talents to the success of this great work. Mario, Marini, and Tamburini are, one and all, great to a degree in their several characters. The chorus and orchestra add their eminent

services to the perfect and unqualified success of the opera. Not content with having achieved great things, the directors of this house are determined not to bring the season to a close without exhibiting fresh instances of their unwearied exertions in providing entertainment of a first-class character for their subscribers. Accordingly, they have put into rehearsal "William Tell," which will be brought forward next week. Roger will take the leading character. In the ballet, Lucille Grahn still continues to bewitch her numerous admirers with her most exquisite" poetry of motion."

The LYCEUM, before closing the season, brought out a novelty of a peculiarly provocative-to-laughter nature, termed "Poor Pillicoddy." Buckstone as the husband of a widow, whose first spouse he fancies has risen from the "deep, deep sea" to claim his partner for life, is absurdly ludicrous and entertaining. His relation of horrible suspicions of Captain Scuttle is attended with undeniable evidences of hilarity on the part of the audience. Planche's "Blue Beard" is a revival that affords Miss Fitzwilliam an opportunity of deliciously warbling some of the well-pointed parodies sparkling in the burlesque. F. Mathews, as the destroyer of female innocence, makes the fearful atrocity of Blue Beard dreadfully apparent. The scenery, dresses, and decorations are, what they always are at this temple of taste, excellent.

THE FRENCH PLAYS are brought to a conclusion, Mr. Mitchell having catered well and liberally for his courtly subscribers. The versatility of Levassor has been lately highly relished by all who delight in witnessing character in all its several phases correctly and inimitably represented.

Houdin at the ST. JAMES's continues to draw inconveniently crowded houses during such sultry weather. It is generally imagined that this wondrous professor of the sable art is acting in consort with

but there, on consideration, perhaps it would be better not to disclose this little mysterious passage in the life of one so dexterous in handicraft.

The SURREY and ASTLEY'S are strong in novelty. At the former Buckstone and Mrs. Fitzwilliam have succeeded T. P. Cooke. At the latter Lady Godiva, with the greater part of Mr. Batty's stud, will be sure to attract many a "Peeping Tom.