friendly contention with the echo." While thus absorbed in admiration the genius of sentiment possessed me, and it suddenly struck me that I would versify. "Every man," says Cicero, (I like to quote great names, for they give one an appearance of learning) "fancies himself a poet," and in this persuasion I pulled out my pocket-book, and indited the following stanzas. The glen alluded to in them, is situated lower down the river, and was the scene of many feuds in the earlier days of Wales and England.

The Banks of Cothy.

Is this the glen by wizards trod,
By hostile arms invaded;

Is this the bonny stream that flow'd,

Where freedom bloom'd and faded?
Yes! still the stream flows deeply on,
Its glen invites the rover;
But freedom's day is past and gone,
The wizard's power is over.

The sheep-bell tinkles on the hill,
The flocks wind o'er the lea;

And nature's spell is potent still,
To fancy and to me:

For still with memory's aid com bined
She lifts the thought on high;
Imparts her moral to the mind,
Her sun-shine to the eye.-

How soft yon wizard Cothy glides,
Mid vale, ravine, and meadow;
Reflecting in his darken'd tide,
The daisy and her shadow:
The bee hums music as he flows,
Sweet echo is his friend;

And summer suns, at twilight-close,
Their gentlest influence lend.

The ploughman wandering on the hill, The lasses on the lea,

Quaff health beside his truant rill,

And sweet serenity:

And when, mid cloudless nights of June,

The trembling moonbeams cast Their light on earth, weird harps attune The memory of the past.

Oh! bonny are the falls of Clyde,

And gay the banks of Wye,

And proud the Thames that rolls beside The haunts of royalty ;

But our Welch stream is bonnier still,

For on its banks are seen, Dancing to music of each rill, The maidens of the green.

Sweet Cothy! while your waves shall glide
O'er mountain, mead, and dell,

While floats upon your burnish'd tide
The far-off Sabbath-bell,

Remembrance shall pourtray each thought,

That lent, when life was new,
Smiles to the heart with fancy fraught,
And beauty e'en to you.

By the time that I had manufactured my rhymes the sun had passed his meridian. Again, therefore, I set forward on my march, and in a very short space had hooked some fine trout, together with a few salmon-peel. Indeed, I had now procured what might be called a good dish of fish, when the distant shouts of merriment seduced me from any further sport. I instantly rambled back in the direction of the sounds, and came up with my old party, who were marching towards Talley, in picturesque attitudes, rank and file, with the bodies of two otters supported triumphantly on a pole. Drake was at the head of the procession, mine host of the village followed next, while Morgan, with a long muster-roll of natives, ambled demurely in the rear. On seeing me, they catechized me touching my success; to which I replied, with an air of modesty, "that it was by no means equal to what

I either desired or deserved." I then produced my well-laden basket, and was welcomed with thundering acclamations. The sewen, in particular, delighted them; and from that time forward I began to be reputed a man of some consequence as an angler.

We reached Talley at about five o'clock, where our fish formed the first course, and where my merits, (for I love to do justice to myself as well as to others) were as conspicuous in the kitchen as in the Cothy. Perhaps, as my readers have accompanied me to the river-side, they will have no objection to step into the cook's culinary domicile, where, à la mode de Kitchener, I will give them a lesson in the highly important business of dressing a trout, or a salmon-peel. In the first place, let him be carefully washed, gutted, and deprived of his bones. Then season him with salt, black pepper, and all-spice, and put him into an earthen pot with as much water and vinegar as will cover him. Throw in a decent competency of rosemary and thyme; bake all together, in the oven, for about an hour, and sprinkle the whole with horseradish.

By attention to these minutiæ, our trout formed such a delicious relish, that the sewen, who figured by himself in a side-dish, went out untouched. As

for the rest of the dinner, I can merely assert that we all wrought wonders, and not an article that claimed acquaintance with either fish, flesh, or fowl, was left unscathed. Indeed, the digestive capabilities of some three or four bibulous otter-hunters are things of no slight consideration, as the defective larders of our host will testify for a month

to come.

In the midst of our varied chit-chat, the village clock, that omen of ill import, struck the hour of seven. As we had to return to Llangadock, we were compelled to expedite our departure; and took leave of our kind-hearted friends, with a promise of speedily returning. We had (that is to say, Drake Somerset and myself, for Morgan remained behind) a delicious night for the walk. The moon had but just risen, and a cool refreshing breeze lent strength and animation to our steps. As we entered the high road we could not resist the temptation of pausing for an instant, to observe the effect of starlight upon the village. It was ineffably magnificent; the mountains, at the base of which Talley is situated, sparkled with a thousand glittering colours; the old monastery, topped with the accumulated moss of years, reared its venerable form beneath the hallowed softness of the night, and threw a gentle shadow along the tranquil surface