162 SALMON FISHING IN THE TWEED 



beams, and a breath of air to ruffle the surface of 

 the water. When these came, he would set to 

 work again with renovated hopes ; till at last, tired 

 and discomfited, he bent his steps homewards. On 

 his arrival there, he was accosted on the very 

 threshold by some of the guests. 



" Oh ! you have been fishing all the morning, I 

 see ; but what could make you stay out so long, 

 and get away so cunningly with the keeper ? " 



" Why, to tell you the truth, Barnes (you know 

 what a good creature he is) told me of an immense 

 pike that was lying amongst the weeds at the end 

 of the lake ; he must be the same that swallowed 

 the cygnets. I never saw so enormous a monster 

 in fresh water." 



Omnes. — " Well, where is he — where is he ? let 

 us look at him." 



Host. — "John, tell the cook we will have him 

 for dinner to-day. — Dutch sauce, remember." 



Piscator. — " You need not be in such a hurry to 

 send to the cook, for I am sorry to say I did not 

 catch him." 



Host. — " Not catch him — not catch him ! Im- 

 possible, with all your skill, armed as you are to 

 the teeth, with roach, bleak, minnows, frogs, kill- 

 devils, and the deuce knows what. Not catch him ! 

 Come, you're joking." 



Piscator. — " Serious, I assure you. I never was 

 so beat before, and yet I never fished better ; but 

 though I did not absolutely hook him, he ran at me 

 several times.'" 



An universal shout of laughter followed this 

 assertion, which made my friend not a little sus- 



