him, and partly for the purpose of a day's fishing,
although, by some mistake in the wording of his letter, his host, who
did not expect him until the next week, happened to be absent. This,
however, had troubled him little. He saw the General often enough in
town. Angling was his first object in the country; and as the fine piece
of water in the park (famous for its enormous pike) remained _in statu
quo_, and Edward Dunbar was ready to accompany and assist him, he had
talked the night before of nothing but his flies and his rods, and
boasted, in speaking of Ireland, the classic land of modern fishermen,
of what he meant to do, and what he had done--of salmon caught in the
wilds of Connemara, and trout drawn out amid the beauties of Killarney.
Fishing exploits, past and future, formed the only theme of his
conversation during his first evening at the Hall. On that which we
spent in his company, nothing could be farther from his inclination than
any allusion, however remote, to his beloved sport, He had been out in
the morning, and we at last extorted from Edward Dunbar, upon a promise
not to hint at the story until the hero of the adventure should be
fairly off, that, after trying with exemplary patience all parts of the
mere for several hours without so much as a nibble, a huge pike, as
Mr. Thompson asserted, or, as Edward suspected, the root of a tree, had
caught fast hold of the hook. If pike it were, the fish had the best of
the battle, for, in a mighty jerk on one side or the other (the famous
Dublin tackle maintaining its reputation, and holding as firm as the
cordage of a man-of-war,) the unlucky angler had been fairly pulled into
the water, and soused over head and ears. How his valet contrived to
reinstate his coeffure, unless, indeed, he travelled with a change
of wigs, is one of those mysteries of an old beau's toilet which pass
female comprehension.

Of course there was no further mention of angling. Our new acquaintance
had quite subjects enough without touching upon that. In eating, for
instance, he might fairly be called learned. Mrs. Dunbar's cuisine
was excellent, and he not only praised the different dishes in a most
scientific and edifying manner, but volunteered a recipe for certain
little mutton pies, the fashion of the season. In drinking he was
equally at home. Edward had produced his father's choicest hermitage and
lachryma, and he seemed to me to know literally by heart all the most
celebrated v