50 Sporting Sketches in Pen and Pencil. 



There I can order my own' meals, 



And drink whate'er I please, 

 And tuck my toes up afterwards. 



Reclining at my ease. 



There I can go out when I like, 



And come in when I choose, 

 With none to ask me where I've been ; 



Or " Won't you wipe your shoes ? " 

 No solemn waiter waits on me. 



But Phyllis spreads my cheer ; 

 I always call her " Mary," and 



I sometimes add "My dear." 



If Boots does not the bootjack bring 



When I retire to bed, 

 Pickwickianly speaking, why, • 



I heave it at his head. 

 Such trifles fret no one ; for why 



They never take 'em ill. 

 They pass them over, put 'em by, 



Or stick them in the bill. 



And when we leave, the kindness is 

 Quite wonderful to note — 



How one will bring your carpet bag. 

 Another fetch your coat. 



So give to me my snug hotel. 

 When fishing I begin ; 



As someone says, our warmest wel- 

 come's always at an inn. 



If you like to sing it as I did, you can. The tune is a sort of a 

 modification of "Oh! give me but my Arab Steed," a rotten old song 

 they used to sing forty or fifty years ago. 



Crayon sips his Glenlivat, and smokes and smiles approval to the ditty. 

 Evening closes, we retire, and there is no hiatus bootswardly. 



The morning breaks. The wind is still S.W. It is cloudy and moistish 

 — a good kind of day if there is plenty of fly on. Breakfast is nearly over. 



" Please, sir, Penton's here, and he wants to know whether you'll begin 

 on the upper water or go down at once to the lower," says Phyllis. 



I am dodging a bit of marmalade, which threatens to go through a hole 

 in the toast, and, having dodged it successfully, I go down to interview 

 Penton, the keeper; and we agree to walk down and take our chance, as no 



