112 



THE ANGLER'S SOUVENIR. 



supper at half-past eight. Why, at home, we only 

 have two meals in the course of the day breakfast 

 and dinner, for a biscuit in the middle of the day 

 cannot be called a meal. 



Tea does console us ; a pipe does also console us ; 

 and after a romp with the children in the orchard, 

 we feel happy again, though still regretting the loss 

 of so fine a fish. 



The busy murmur of the mill ceases. The 

 dappled cows come wading through the brook to 

 be milked ; we catch a few more small trout ; the 

 sun goes down in a sea of amber, crimson splashed 

 and spotted ; the white mists wreath around the 

 coppices of oak and fir ; the bats wheel and scream 

 in the still air, and we go in to supper. Then 

 there comes a rubber or two of whist, a farewell 

 pipe, and a glass of grog ; and with a fair basketful 

 of trout, a bottle of dandelion tea in one pocket of 

 our coat, a spring chicken in another, and laden 

 with a posy of cowslips and primroses gathered 

 by the children for the dear partner of our joys 

 and purse, we shake hands with the miller and 

 his wife, and bid good-night to the dear old mill 

 and its inhabitants. 



