And what sort of a river was it ? Was it like an Irish stream , winding through the brown bogs , where the wild ducks squatter up from among the white water-lilies , and the curlews flit to and fro , crying `` Tullie-wheep , mind your sheep ; '' and Dennis tells you strange stories of the Peishtamore , the great bogy-snake which lies in the black peat pools , among the old pine-stems , and puts his head out at night to snap at the cattle as they come down to drink ? -- But you must not believe all that Dennis tells you , mind ; for if you ask him : `` Is there a salmon here , do you think , Dennis ? '' `` Is it salmon , thin , your honour manes ? Salmon ? Cartloads it is of thim , thin , an ' ridgmens , shouldthering ache out of water , av ' ye 'd but the luck to see thim . '' Then you fish the pool all over , and never get a rise . `` But there ca n't be a salmon here , Dennis ! and , if you 'll but think , if one had come up last tide , he 'd be gone to the higher pools by now . '' `` Shure thin , and your honour 's the thrue fisherman , and understands it all like a book . Why , ye spake as if ye 'd known the wather a thousand years ! As I said , how could there be a fish here at all , just now ? '' `` But you said just now they were shouldering each other out of water ? '' And then Dennis will look up at you with his handsome , sly , soft , sleepy , good-natured , untrustable , Irish gray eye , and answer with the prettiest smile : `` Shure , and did n't I think your honour would like a pleasant answer ? '' So you must not trust Dennis , because he is in the habit of giving pleasant answers : but , instead of being angry with him , you must remember that he is a poor Paddy , and knows no better ; so you must just burst out laughing ; and then he will burst out laughing too , and slave for you , and trot about after you , and show you good sport if he can -- for he is an affectionate fellow , and as fond of sport as you are -- and if he ca n't , tell you fibs instead , a hundred an hour ; and wonder all the while why poor ould Ireland does not prosper like England and Scotland , and some other places , where folk have taken up a ridiculous fancy that honesty is the best policy . Or was it like a Welsh salmon river , which is remarkable chiefly -LRB- at least , till this last year -RRB- for containing no salmon , as they have been all poached out by the enlightened peasantry , to prevent the Cythrawl Sassenach -LRB- which means you , my little dear , your kith and kin , and signifies much the same as the Chinese Fan Quei -RRB- from coming bothering into Wales , with good tackle , and ready money , and civilisation , and common honesty , and other like things of which the Cymry stand in no need whatsoever ? Or was it such a salmon stream as I trust you will see among the Hampshire water-meadows before your hairs are gray , under the wise new fishing-laws ? -- when Winchester apprentices shall covenant , as they did three hundred years ago , not to be made to eat salmon more than three days a week ; and fresh-run fish shall be as plentiful under Salisbury spire as they are in Holly-hole at Christchurch ; in the good time coming , when folks shall see that , of all Heaven 's gifts of food , the one to be protected most carefully is that worthy gentleman salmon , who is generous enough to go down to the sea weighing five ounces , and to come back next year weighing five pounds , without having cost the soil or the state one farthing ? Or was it like a Scotch stream , such as Arthur Clough drew in his `` Bothie '' : - `` Where over a ledge of granite Into a granite bason the amber torrent descended ... Beautiful there for the colour derived from green rocks under ; Beautiful most of all , where beads of foam uprising Mingle their clouds of white with the delicate hue of the stillness ... Cliff over cliff for its sides , with rowan and pendant birch boughs . '' ... Ah , my little man , when you are a big man , and fish such a stream as that , you will hardly care , I think , whether she be roaring down in full spate , like coffee covered with scald cream , while the fish are swirling at your fly as an oar-blade swirls in a boat-race , or flashing up the cataract like silver arrows , out of the fiercest of the foam ; or whether the fall be dwindled to a single thread , and the shingle below be as white and dusty as a turnpike road , while the salmon huddle together in one dark cloud in the clear amber pool , sleeping away their time till the rain creeps back again off the sea .
You will not care much , if you have eyes and brains ; XXXXX you will lay down your rod contentedly , and drink in at your eyes the beauty of that glorious place ; and listen to the water-ouzel piping on the stones , and watch the yellow roes come down to drink and look up at you with their great soft trustful eyes , as much as to say , `` You could not have the heart to shoot at us ? ''
So among before by for if of that to whether