Baily's magazine of sports and pastimes, Volume 37

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Page 197 - Paley, the renowned theologian, when asked when a theological work he had in hand would be published, replied, ' I scarcely know, but I shall work steadily at it when the fly--fishing season is over.
Page 367 - alike: there are grey, brown, and green rocks and stocks as well ' as men, and all these may be equivocal—but there is but one scent ' of man, and that he never doubts or mistakes ; that is filled with ' danger and terror; and one whiff of its poison at a mile
Page 190 - the sea-beach lying Which, as the moon got up, were flying Down a big wave that sparkled and swelled.
Page 360 - S M Tu W TH F S M Tu W TH F S M
Page 368 - single * is tossed in your face, and he is away to the hill or the wood ; and * if there are no green corns, peas, or potatoes in the neighbourhood, ' he may not be seen on the same side of the forest for a month.
Page 241 - It was in vain to point out to those who were determined not to be convinced that the eggs had first of all become par, and that the par had changed to salmon smolts ; it was still maintained that nothing of moment had been proved ; and Shaw's blood getting up, he at once determined on a series of operations which would
Page 76 - not buttered, but well steeped in beef gravy, in the bottom of the ' pan; wrap your birds in an envelope of well-streaked bacon, lay ' another slice of well-steeped toast on the top, screw down the lid
Page 11 - Highlands, north and west; where will be found the grandest scenery of Scotland, an ever-varying panorama of hill and glen of the most picturesque kind, a true land, in fact, of mountain and flood
Page 11 - stream which flows through Strathbogie in Aberdeenshire, in which there are ' pucklies of fish,' as a taciturn farmer's wife said once to me when I inquired if it was any use trying the Bogie.
Page 83 - O'er the cream of the grass-land we had raced him straight onward • O'er bullfinch and brook, o'er hill and o'er dale; For forty fast minutes, for fast forty minutes, For those fast forty minutes we had with the Vale. ' Now, lads, I have lived all my days in the saddle, I've hunted well now of seasons threescore: " Wasted life,

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