OR WALTONIAN CHRONICLE. 123 



Each pocket is searched o'er in vain, 

 When a sudden thought reminds you 

 Your tackle case you have let remain 

 Some twenty miles behind you. 



Then through, &c. 



7. 



You hook a fish of many pounds, 

 He struggles with you rarely, 

 Aloft, above the stream he bounds, 

 Your line will hold him barely ; 

 Till tired out he quiet lies, 

 You ask some one to land him, 

 'Tis roughly done, again he flies 

 And breaks you Yore you hand him. 

 Then through, &c. 



8. 



You know from long continued rains 



The rivers are o'erflowing 



For many weeks, and think 'tis vain 



Out fishing to going ; 



Till told that in a certain place 



The water is in order, 



You start, and find it oft the case 



All mud and all disorder. 



Then through, &c. 

 F5 



