A FISH DINNER. 105 



of sunset, all red herrings and Findon haddocks, and 

 over it, in large characters, the name of the house, "The 

 Rising Sun." Calling to mind the old proverb enforcing 

 us not to judge by appearance, I enter. In a suave, 

 bland voice I ask, " What can I have ? " " Some nice 

 fish, sir/ 7 says the host. "How long before they are 

 ready twenty minutes or half an hour ? for I wish to 

 look after my cattle first." " Say thirty minutes," replied 

 the host. " Very well," meekly I answered, and made 

 my exit forthwith, and attended to the wants of my 

 four-footed beasts, anticipating the meal. Fish only 

 think ! fish which I had not eaten for ever so long. 



At the appointed moment I found myself entering 

 the house with fish on the brain. On being shown into 

 the dining-room, I discovered a dirty towel spread on 

 the table, a loaf of very doubtful bread, a plate, and a 

 small box of sardines. " Ah ! an appetiser. This 

 fellow understands the secret of living!" mentally ex- 

 claimed I. So I sat down and ate the sardines, and 

 vociferously knocked on the table for the waiter to bring 

 the piece de resistance. 



The host entered. 



"Those sardines, were very good. It was very 

 thoughtful of you to provide them. I will now, if you 

 please, have the fish the poisons;" for I thought to 

 make a facetious joke. 



The landlord stared ; so did I. At length he 

 gasped, " You have eaten the fish." 



" You don't call those fish ?" I cried out furiously. 



"Well, what do you call them?" he answered. 



I seized the empty sardine-box. He retired rapidly, 

 and closed the door between us. 



Vowing vengeance on the perpetrator of such a joke 



