Sporting Sketches in Pen and Pencil. 



" Lord, lord, lord I " cried poor old Bill. " There, to be sure, if I'd only 

 kep' the rod in my own 'and, that 'ere trout 'd a gone right up to London — 

 right up to London ! Wot a pity ! Wot a pity ! " 



I said nothing, but thought a heap, and wished that I had had the rod. 

 One good job was that the trout didn't trouble us again, and we soon got the 

 fish on again, and we made a capital evening's fishing of it, catching plenty 

 of barbel and bream, and one big chub of over 51b., so that when we 

 got ashore we had over a hundredweight of fish — roach, dace, barbel, chub, 

 and bream ; and if we'd only had that trout. If we — well, well ! 



But the last 'bus waits, and won't wait any longer ; and our old friend 

 Clarke is on the box; and we've got to tell him all about the day's sport as 

 we drive through Bushey Park chestnuts through the moonlight, and have 

 to hear once more how superior the " burning 'air " is for roach fishing when 

 you can get it "gev you by a lady," &c. Ah ! it was a lovely drive, fit 

 pendant to a real good old-fashioned Thames day such as I had many of in 

 those days, though they are rare enough now ; and when tired out at 

 last, I rolled into bed with only one roseleaf crumpled. If we'd only 

 caught that trout — 



"Down in a flowery vale, all on a summer maw— aw — aw — w." 



MAH WANTS BUT LITTLX EBBE BELOW. 



