CHAPTER XII. 



OUR CLOSING DAY. 



" Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 



And never brought to min' ? 

 Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 



And days o' lang syne ? 

 We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet 

 For auld lang syne ! " 



NOT to the waterside at all must the reader kind, intelli- 

 gent, and indulgent, of course be now transferred, but to 

 a warm, well-lighted apartment to which he has been afore- 

 time introduced. On the last night of March, it may be 

 remembered, a united family, not ashamed to avow them- 

 selves followers of quaint, pure-hearted Izaak Walton, 

 whose nature was eminently unselfish, assembled amidst 

 their piscatorial trophies on the eve of their "opening 

 day." 



Since that occasion three of the four seasons^have sped 

 their allotted course. It was an occasion for the putting 

 on of harness, just as the present is the time when the 

 waterside warriors have met to lay it aside,[and, so to speak, 

 place their weapons on the rack. The twenty-eightTpound 

 pike, that great perch, the bellows-shaped bream, the dark 

 fat tench, the burly-shouldered chub, and the handsome 

 trout maintain their fixed expression upon the walls. The 

 hand of change touches them not. Two, however, of the 

 angling brotherhood have for ever laid down the rod since 



