SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.


TROUT TICKLING IN IRELAND.

What will our _ticklish_ correspondent, W.H.H. say to this?

"Kniveing trouts" (they call it tickling in England) is good sport. You go
to a stony shallow at night, a companion bearing a torch; then stripping
to the thighs and shoulders, wade in; grope with your hands under the
stones, sods, and other harbourage, till you find your game, then grip him
in your "knieve," and toss him ashore.

I remember, when a boy, carrying the splits for a servant of the family,
called Sam Wham. Now Sam was an able young fellow, well-boned and willing;
a hard headed cudgel player, and a marvellous tough wrestler, for he had a
backbone like a sea-serpent; this gained him the name of the Twister and
Twiner. He had got into the river, with his back to me, was stooping over
a broad stone, when something bolted from under the bank on which I stood,
right through his legs. Sam fell with a great splash upon his face, but in
falling, jammed whatever it was against the stone. "Let go, Twister,"
shouted I, "'tis an otter, he will nip a finger off you."--"Whisht,"
sputtered he, as he slid his hand under the water; "May I never read a
text again, if he isna a sawmont wi' a shouther like a hog!"--"Grip him by
the gills, Twister," cried I.--"Saul will I!" cried the Twiner; but just