THE THAMES ANGLER. 9 



that scene before us. Contemplate it, and tell me if the dingy 

 office of a stockbroker, the zalh-a-manger of a foreign hotel, or 

 the best of Mr. Beverley's illustrations for Mr. Gye's manage- 

 ment, can equal that ! — and its enjoyment entails no risk, or 

 expense, or disappointment. 



[The// sit doicn, and think a bit. 



Robinson. A cider cup wouldn't be a bad thing, just now. 



Brown. Or a cool bottle of hock. 



Piscator. Or a tankard of home-brewed ale, which I do 

 affect more than foreign wine. 



Jones. I have some port in my cellars that cost me fourteen 

 guineas a dozen. That's what I call wine. I can give a friend 



good a bottle of wine as — 



Piscator. There ! he has caught him, in that punt below — a 

 roach that weighs a pound. See how he flaps upon the surface, 

 and new fa gently landed. 



Robinson. It is wonderful to see how men can find pleasure 

 in such dull occupation. My friend, young Witaend, has 

 written this lyric of an angler, which is to be Bung by Mr. 

 Robson, in the new burlestpie. I have a copy, and it runs 

 thus : — 



THE SONG OF THE UNSUCCESSFUL AXGLER. 



I cannot tell the reason, it is really very odd, 

 My tackle is first-rate, and I've a most expensive rod — 

 Bought at the Si/ver Trout, the shop that's always sellim; off, 

 And yet with all my outlay, I've got nothing but a cough. 



I think the fish are altered since old Waltou wrote his book, 

 They shun the simple irentle, and mistrust it " with a hook ; " 

 I think I mayn't be deep enough, in vain I move the quill, 

 For fish as deeply as I choose, the fish are deeper still. 



■ Pike Eve seen — the only one was that unpleasant wicket, 

 Where threepence I was forced to pay, and now I've lost the ticket ; 

 Nor yet a single Perch, for which my lucky stars to thank, 

 Except the perch I've taken on this damp rheumatic bank. 



I can't pick up a Chub, though on the lock all day I stick, 

 (They say it is impos.-ible a lock of Chubb to pick); 

 A Flounder would be welcome, but uufeelin^ wags remark, 

 I shall get lots of them to-night returning in the dark. 



Upon that bobbing quill all day I've nothing done but gloat, 

 Till I've almost become one — as the song says, " I'm a float ! ,: 

 Come Soles, Brill, Flounders, fresh or salt, however flat ye be, 

 Be sure you will not fail to find a greater flat in me. 



