SOCIETIES OF LONDON AND THE PROVINCES. 15 



arst Aint them his brekfus' things agoin' in ? Course 

 they is ; new laid heggs there is, which they're werry good 

 at times, and a leetle bit o' bacon frezzled crisp. Tray 

 bung, as the Frenchmen says, and now, Mary, my dear, 

 will you be so good as to give Cluster Fubsy ole Bill 

 Boozler's compliments, and say he's sorry to say as that 

 theer trout has a-come to a huntimely hend at larst." 



The natty one, having delivered her message, is nearly 

 upset by the anxious Fubsy, who rushes out, spec- 

 tacles on nose, the Times in one hand, and loosely 

 arrayed in his dressing-gown. He opens upon William at 

 once. 



" William — William Boozier, you don't mean to say 

 that you've er — er — caught that trout, after all the number 

 of times I've been out with you, and the pounds and 

 pounds I've spent ? " 



" Suttenly not," cries the worthy William, with an air of 

 mingled grief and astonishment. " No, sir, suttenly not. But 

 this blessid mornin' as ever was, I'se a goin' down to Bun- 

 kin's Ait in the little skiff, to see about the eel barskits, and 

 I hears a floppin' and prancin' about in my old punt — that 

 one what the Westa, confound her ! stoved in — and so I 

 sculls across softly, thinkin' it was rats. Soap me never, 

 marster, I was that knocked-a-cock as I could ha' drunk 

 arf-a-pint o' ole ale quick, just as I could at this heer minnit, 

 fur theer lay that theer loverlly trout, a nine-pounder ef he 

 weighs a bounce, wi' just a kick and no more left in him ; 

 and I takes him in my two hands tenderly as ef I was a 

 lefting ababby, and 'olds his 'ed up stream. But it worn't a 

 mossel 'o use, he was stone gone ; and I says to myself, I 

 does, ' Bill, this punt is yourn ' — which it is, cause why, my 

 own brother's sister's husband built her, best pine deal and 

 oak stretchers, which well it is beknown down at the bridge, 



