SCENE, A CHURCH-YARD. 181 



cipated in on this occasion, is the only remaining 

 fragment we possess relating to the now defunct 

 fraternity at C h. 



The subsequent spring brought along with it to their 

 customary haunts no return of jovial and light-hearted 

 souls. One member only, save ourselves, of the dis- 

 persed 1 brotherhood was beheld traversing the deserted 

 valley. Over his broad shoulders waved carelessly a 

 long, black wand, the point of which ever and anon 

 caught among the obtruding twigs of a green hazel 

 fence. Nor did this repeated annoyance seem in the 

 least degree to ruffle the temper of the philosophic 

 angler, who, at the continual recurrence of it, retraced 

 his steps with unaltered patience, in order to extricate 

 his line from the mischievous impediment. It was our 

 friend Jack Leister. 



Jack Leister ! We cannot speak of changes in 

 the melancholy manner they ought to be spoken of, 

 but a certain pressure of our comrade's hand, as 

 we came up to him, denoted that he had not alto- 

 gether escaped their influence. The breaking up of 

 the fraternity at C h had greatly affected him, 

 and it was evident he possessed no degree of appetite 

 for the sport which he almost unconsciously was about 

 to pursue. 



But why say more of this our interview to both 

 of us so sad ? Why linger over scenes which it were 

 better to close up, lest, opening them afresh, we 

 open the heart with them ? Ah ! the enthusiasm of 



