OUR CLOSING DAY. 253 



Then comes the knot that fastens line to trace ; 



A moment yet and you may snatch a peep 



Of the hooked Luce, now winching in apace. 



About five pounds would be a shrewdish guess, 



If one may judge from shoulder, fin, and tail, 



Which he betrays maybe a little less. 



Ah ! hapless fish, useless it is to sail 



To right, to left, with that indignant stroke. 



This trusty gaff was never known to fail. 



You'll shortly find it is no passing joke, 



Though 'gainst your plight 'tis not for me to rail. 



So so : your yellow side is upward turned ; 



As good you are as numbered with the slain, 



And you, good friend, the lesson well have learned 



Begad, he's off! the gimp has snapped in twain." 



By the time that the Waltonian brotherhood rose, crossed 

 hands, and pronounced that fine benediction, " Auld Lang 

 Syne," they had thoroughly gorged not the meat and 

 drink, to which they had, nevertheless, sensibly done 

 justice, but that bait, Contentment, which had been re- 

 commended to them by the Boanergesian soloist. So at 

 peace with the world were they that even the Home Secre- 

 tary, at whose new mandate the party was prematurely dis- 

 solved, was pardoned as a victim rather than condemned as 

 a persecutor. With all their hearts they wished each other 

 health and happiness, abundant sport by the waterside, 

 prosperity at home, and no missing faces at the next merry 

 meeting. 



