A _lapsus linguæ_--From a hundred anglers on the Daer, on the Queen's Birthday----
All those qualities of a heaven-born Angler I learned first to admire--then to understand--and then to imitate. For three years I practised on the carpet--for three I essayed on a pond--for three I strove by the running waters--and still the Image of Christopher North was before me--till emboldened by conscious acquisition and constant success, I came forth and took my place among the Anglers of my country.
First your Fly, and then, I think, yourself.
I have seen _Il Maestro_ himself in Timber, and in brushwood too. From him I learned to disentangle knots, intricate and perplexed far beyond the Gordian--"with frizzled hair implicit"--round twig, branch, or bole. Not more than half-a-dozen times of the forty that I may have been fast aloft--I speak mainly of my noviciate--have I had to effect liberation by sacrifice.
Pardon me, Mr Talboys, for hinting that you smacked off your tail-fly to-day--I knew it by the sound.
The sound! No trusting to an uncertain sound, Mr Seward. Oh! I did so once--but intentionally--the hook had lost the barb--not a fish would it hold--so I whipped it off, and on with a Professor.
You lost one good fish in rather an awkward manner, Mr Talboys.
I did--that metal minnow of yours came with a splash within an inch of his nose--and no wonder he broke me--nay, I believe it was the minnow that broke me--and yet you can speak of _my_ losing a good fish in rather an awkward manner!
It is melancholy to think that I have taught young Scotland to excel myself in all the Arts that adorn and dignify life. Till I rose, Scotland was a barbarous country--
And why should that be a melancholy thought, sir?
Oh, Talboys--National Ingratitude! They are fast forgetting the man who made them what they are--in a few fleeting centuries the name of Christopher North will be in oblivion! Would you believe it possible, gentlemen, that even now, there are Scotsmen who never heard of the Fly that bears the name of me, its Inventor--Killing Kit!
Men in Scotland who never heard the name of North!
Christopher North--who is he? Who do you mean by the Man of the Crutch?--The Knight of the Knout? Better never to have been born than thus to be virtually dead.