THE THAMES ANGLER. 15 



Shall sing the praises of the drink he loves. 



Try you, first, Brown ;" and Brown, thus pressed, began : — 



" In punch, if punch he good, if punch be ours, 

 Acid and sweet should be just equal powers — 

 Excess in one is ruin to it all. 



" It is the little rind from off the fruit, 

 Cut into thinnest slices by the 'cute, 

 Which, ever moistening, slowly savours all. 



" Tbe little rind from off the lemon fruit, 

 And distillation from the sweet cane's root, 

 "Which, ever moistening, slowly savour all. 



" It is not worth the keeping, let it go. 

 Craven is he who at such drink is slow ; 

 Then quaff it not at all, or all in all." 



" Fisher ! do you love my little rhyme?" 



Piscator looked, and seemed incliued to yield, 

 So unctuous was Brown's voice, so fat his face, 

 But in a minute, " Jones," he said, "strike up !" 

 Mattering about bronchitis Jones commenced: — 



'- 



" Beer, bitter beer — I know not what they mean — 

 Beer which they in some unknown depths prepare, 

 Tlies to the head and surges in the t 

 I'm looking on this claret -budget-bill, 

 And thinking of the alts that are no more. 



" Fresh as the globules glittering iu the ale 

 Some friendly pump brings from the under world, 

 Sad as the fate suspended over one 

 "Who sinks from too much salmon on the curb; 

 So sad, so fresh, the ales that are no more." 



"Now Robinson, take up the strain," Smith cried; 



But Robin&on, a thorough duller he, 



Trolled out some feeble song about King Cole, 



A silly monarch, always calling out 



For bowls and fiddlers. "Jolly soul, forsooth ! 



Though now some thirty summers 1 have passed, 



But little fuu in fiddlers I have found: 



Show me a tiddler, P 11 show you a fool," 



Thus Smith, irate. Then, " I will sing," he said, 



" One of old Izaak "Walton's merry strains." 



" Hey no nonny ! 

 Mavis, merle, and rosemary, 

 Fling the line and sing with glee, 

 Hey no nonny ! 



