LITERATURE.

THE ANGLER'S COMPANION TO THE RIVERS AND LOCHS OF SCOTLAND. By Thomas Tod Stoddart. Blackwood and Sons, London and Edinburgh, 1847.-Writers on the art and mystery of the angle may adopt as their motto, if in want of such a convenience, that familiar hex

ameter

"Quæ regio in terris nostri non plena laboris ?”

Fox-hunting used to command the pens of literary Nimrods, and the turf is not without its considerable tomes-good, bad, and indifferent ; but at the rate the anglers are cultivating Cadmus, we shall presently have a library on the subtleties of the rod and line. It is not long since we had to notice a volume on the subject by an anonymous author; we have one now at our elbow by Mr. Tod Stoddart- --a writer quite full of the enthusiasm of his craft, and, no doubt, an able professor of the science to which his talents have been devoted. He is, however, chiefly the companion of those who adopt Caledonia "stern and wild" as the scene of their adventure. In the Tweed or Teviot he is as much at home as any native-salmon or trout. His theory and practice are evidently the results of long experience and scientific conclusion. As an angler to read he is singularly happy; when deepest in the sublimities of fly construction he is never tiresome; when most elaborate in the gymnastics of his art he never bores you. His book is certainly an unusually stout octavo, 431 pages; but it is filled by one who indited good matter. We had marked several passages for extract, but the limit of our space compels us to confine our notice to one. It is marked by less of the didactic than generally distinguishes his style; it does his taste not the less credit :

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Fly-fishing, considered as a branch of the angler's art, possesses peculiar advantages. As an exercise, it is healthy, and just to the proper degree exciting. It braces the muscles, enlivens the spirits, gives rise to an agreeable alternation of hopes and fears, calls into activity the judgment as well as the fancy, the good taste and discrimination of the artist, not less than his ideal and creative powers. It affords room, also, as has often been remarked, for the display of elegant motions and graceful attitudes-impersonations of earnestness and intense enthusiasm, of hope, of anxiety, of joy, of disappointment, of admiration, of pity, of content, of love, of holy feeling, and of crowning felicity.

"Is it not, for instance, in the attitude of hope that the angler stands, while in the act of heaving out his flies over some favourite cast? Of hope increased, when he beholds, feeding within reach of his line, the monarch of the stream? But now, mark him, he has dropt the hook cautiously and skilfully just above the indicated spot; the fish, scarcely breaking the surface, has seized it. A fast, firm hold it has, but the tackle is fine, and the trout strong and active. Look! how the expression of his features is undergoing a change. There is still hope, but

mingled with it are traces of anxiety-of fear itself. His attitudes, too, are those of a troubled and distempered man. Ha! all is well. The worst is over. The strong push for liberty has been made, and failed. Desperate as that summerset was, it has proved unsuccessful. The tackle-knot and barb-is sufficient. Look now at the angler. Hope with him is stronger than anxiety, and joy too beams forth under his eyelids; for lo! the fish is showing symptoms of distress. No longer it threatens to exhaust the winch-line; no longer it combats with the rapids; no more it strives with frantic fling or wily plunge to disengage the hook. It has lost all heart-almost all energy. The fins, paralysed and powerless, are unable for their task. So far from regulating its movements, they cannot even sustain the balance of the fish. Helpless and hopeless, it is drawn ashore, upturning, in the act of submission, its starred and gleamy flanks. The countenance of the captor-his movements (they are those which the soul dictates) are all joyous and selfcongratulatory. But the emotion, strongly depicted though it be, is short-lived. It gives way successively to the feelings of admiration and pity-of admiration as excited on contemplating the almost incomparable beauty of the captive, its breadth and depth, the harmony of its proportions, as well as the richness and variety of its colours-of pity, as called forth in accordance with our nature-an unconscious, uncontrollable emotion, which operates with subduing effect on the triumph of the

moment.

"And now, in their turn, content and thankfulness reign in the heart and develop themselves on the countenance of the angler; now haply he is impressed with feelings of adoring solemnity stirred up by some scene of unlooked-for grandeur, or the transit of some sublime phenomenon. I say nothing of the feelings of disappointment, anger, envy, and jealousy, which sometimes find their way into the bosom, and are pourtrayed on the features even of the worthiest and best-tempered of our craft. Too naturally they spring up and blend themselves with our better nature; yet well it is that they take no hold on the heart, scorching it may be true, but not consuming its day of happiness.

"Hence it is, from the very variety of emotions which successively occupy the mind, from their blendings and transitions, that angling derives its pleasures; hence, it holds precedence as a sport with men of thoughtful and ideal temperament; hence, poets, sculptors, and philosophers-the sons and worshippers of genius-have entered, heart and hand, into its pursuit. Therefore it was that Thomson, Burns, Scott, and Hogg, and, in our present day, Wilson and Wordsworth, exchanged eagerly the grey goose-quill and the companionship of books for the taper wand and the discourse, older than Homer's measures, of streams and cataracts. Therefore it was that Paley left his meditative home, and Davy his tests and crucibles, and Chantrey his moulds, models, and chisel-work-each and all to rejoice and renovate themselves; to gather new thoughts and energies, a fresh heart and vigorous hand, in the exercise of that pastime which is teeming with philosophy."

THE TROUT FLIES OF DEVON AND CORNWALL-WHEN AND HOW TO USE THEM. Nettleton, Plymouth.-A small work, of a more general character than its title would seem to indicate, being, in fact, a treatise compiled, rather than written, on the de omnibus rebus et qui bus

dam aliis principle. We have, for instance, a chatty kind of review of all the eminent anglers that ever lived, from Solomon down to Christopher North-Isaac Walton, of course, included; though, by the way, he knew little or nothing of fly-fishing, the professed purpose of Mr. Soltau's labours. There are certainly a few plates of flies, with yet more scanty elucidations; considering the author himself disparages his prints, the accompaniments might have been allowed more tone. We defy any

man to make up his flies from the descriptions, if he is not to trust to the drawings. The book, in short, has disappointed us; it is neither as instructive nor as amusing as so favoured a district should have furnished. The grand mistake, or defect, has been in the writer brushing up all sorts of used-up intelligence, instead of confining himself to the flag he fights under the freshness and attractions of his own streams. "Local information," he says, "is at all times most valuable to the fisherman; without it, his money is often wasted and his patience sorely taxed." Agreed, it is; but why, then, did he not act up to his text, and make his task and ours far more agreeable? His sin must be on his own head.

THE PEOPLE'S JOURNAL. Saunders, 69, Fleet-street.-It is always with gratification that we acknowledge a call upon us—in the capacity of public journalists-to review works of a social and popular character. The philosophy of our life, as well as our literature, is thus written: "Nullius addictus jurare in verba magistri." For this reason, whether a volume solicit our notice with an introduction on the title-page from the most distinguished author of the day, or come unpresented, in anonymous humility, we offer it our greeting our welcome if, as it should seem to us, its purpose be good. This is the case with the work before us: it is essentially a popular work, without being anarchical-properties so continually confounded in modern policy. The design of the "People's Journal" is stated to be " a combination of amusement, general literature, and instruction, with an earnest and business-like inquiry into the best means of satisfying the claims of industry." No doubt here is high ground taken, or at least sought-it is but justice to say by a path likely to lead to the end desired. This journal is a miscellany of original contributions by writers of talent-and an honest spirit. Its taste is sound, and its tone is healthy. All is not gold indeed--but there is little or no tinsel. It is customary to offer extracts to support opinions of literary productions as the merchant sets out samples of his wares. The following is in season-it harmonises with the general matter of our pages, and its policy is wholesome and true.

"There is much going on that must die out as the taste and moral feeling of the masses progress. Vulgarity and low debauch will, with this advance, gradually disappear. Thus that attraction of former days, the Epping Hunt, has sunk to the most perfect burlesque. I went to witness it a year or two ago. But where were the Lord Mayor and aldermen, who used to be there in all their glory? Where were the surrounding thousands upon thousands? On the top of the hill, near the Bald-faced Stag, stood a few carriages with ladies in them, a few gentlemen on horseback, a few venders of oranges and ginger-beer, and a few professors of the game of cock-shy, or will-pegs, ready to afford young men the opportunity of winning a snuff-box by the flinging of a stick.

There might be a couple of hundreds of people assembled. On came the huntsmen with their stag in a covered cart. The chief huntsman blew dismally on a tin horn, the cart stopped, the door was opened, but out did not come the stag. It appeared a tame one hired for the occasion, and quite contented to remain where it was. Six hounds following the cartthe whole splendid pack!-waited with the same nonchalance till the huntsman roused the stag, and compelled it to spring out of the cart. Once out, however, it did not seem at all alarmed at the sight of men or dogs. The dogs were equally quiescent. Neither stag nor dogs seemed desirous of the trouble of a run; but as a hunt there must be, the stag was actually driven off by the huntsman, and hooted off by the crowd....... The stag had a large label attached to its neck-I suppose to warn any one against killing it......in fact, more like a bottle of hartshorn than a hart of grease.' "And yet, amidst the numerous customs and games of past times, what should banish the brisk foot-race and the game of foot-ball on the village-green? In the holidays of the future, taste will banish vulgarity—but not hilarity."

We hope not; we had rather see rural life less genteel, and more jovial. Any worm but Mawworm.

THE METALLIC BETTING-BOOK.-The Messrs. Ackermann, of the Strand, have just published a little manual, in form of a pocket-tablet, under this title. It is well and tastefully got up, and will be found very convenient for all who bet on horse-racing, whether professionally or en amateur. It is particularly portable.

PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS OF THE METROPOLIS.

"How vain and flitting-how unreal and unsubstantial are popular favour and popular applause! Well and truly were these hollow triumphs called by Lord Mansfield the echo of folly and shadow of renown."-HERALD.

Popular applause is ever variable. One day the Radcliffe school of literature reigns paramount; another day the fiction of Sir Walter Scott takes precedence of every other class of composition in public estimation. Then Bulwer und James lead for a period, to be succeeded by Dickens. So with things theatric. Tragedy, comedy, opera succeed one another. The performer that drew crowded houses yesterday, to-day performs to empty benches. Mrs. Butler's late engagement verifies our position. Some few years back this actress was the sole means of the vast area of Covent Garden being nightly filled. But a few weeks ago the same artist appeared on the boards of one of the metropolitan minors without creating the least sensation.

The high state of excitement anent Jenny Lind begins to abate: whereat we are not greatly astonished; for however deliciously enchanting may be-and that it is enchanting no one can gainsay

the warbling of this gifted child of nature, it is hardly reasonable for people, in such times as these, to mortgage a moiety of their estates for the few hours' tenancy of an opera-box.

A grand coup has been achieved by the management of THE ROYAL ITALIAN OPERA producing "Don Giovanni." It is generally admitted by the first musical critics of the day, that Mozart's chef d'oeuvre never received such justice at the hands of the performers in this country as it now indisputably meets with at the new theatre. This opera is put upon the stage with great splendour, boasting of a triple orchestra and a double chorus. Here it is that the vast superiority of the new Italian Opera over the old house becomes remarkably apparent. Such a band of instrumentalists, and such an effective chorus, as are collected together at Covent Garden, never shone in the Haymarket hemisphere. Grisi as Donna Anna; Persiani, Zerlina; Corbari, Donna Elvira; Mario, Ottavio; Rovere, Leporello; Taglifico, Mazetto; and Tamburini the Giovanni, form a most powerful and attractive cast. Grisi's recitative in the first scene is a perfect gem of itself. Persiani is perfection in the gentle and delicate morceaux, which she renders with unexampled purity of style. Mademoiselle Corbari is an excellent Elvira in every respect. Mario's chest-voice tells in this opera most electrically. The Giovanni of Tamburini is great beyond comparison, both for singing and acting. The ballet department at this establishment is considerably augmented, and thereby greatly improved. First among the agile disciples of choregraphy stands, or rather flies, Fanny Ellsler, the universal favourite. Her graceful boundings positively startle you, from the extraordinary agility evinced by one that is popularly imagined to be human, although generally spoken of as divine. The ballet of "Salamandrine” continues to attract.

Report speaks highly of Mr. Bell's new comedy of "Temper" at the HAYMARKET. The cast includes Farren, Webster, Tilbury, Hudson, Mrs. Glover, Miss Fortescue, Miss P. Horton, Mrs. Seymour, and Mrs. Humby. Surely as his "Temper" is pronounced to be good, the lessee will continue to keep it-on the stage. The four Hungarian instrumental vocalists completely astonish the audiences of this house in the development of their extraordinary powers. Mr. Webster, although his present bill attracts good houses, is determined to deserve public patronage, by producing several novelties, the first of which will be an original farce.

The ST. JAMES'S continues to be the resort of the haut ton. The fairest and noblest of the land attend the clever representations of the French Plays, and attest the very superior manner Mr. Mitchell caters for his subscribers. "Un Coup de Lansquenet" has been admirably performed. Regnier as Desrousseaux, and Mademoiselle Denain as La Marquise de Puzy, could not have succeeded better in their impersonations. The former convulsed the house, while the Denain charmed the audience by her easy, winning, arch, and vivacious manner. May she be induced to visit us next season; for not only is she a clever actress, but she is a very pretty woman.

The ETHIOPIANS are about to take their departure. We therefore, in a spirit of philanthropy that we feel fully confident will be properly appreciated, earnestly exhort our country friends to attend the