SEVENTH EMPTYING. 105 



did you run away for ? " and then it all flashed upon him, 

 but the other fellow was two miles away when the keeper 

 got back to the spot where he had last seen him. 



A Scotch angler had hooked a big salmon in the Tay, 

 and the fight with the fish was being closely watched by 

 two gentlemen non-anglers from a neighbouring hotel. 

 After about a quarter-of-an-hour, during which the angler 

 occasionally rushed into the river up to his chin, the salmon 

 came near enough for an attempt to gaff it ; the attempt 

 was a bad one the line was cut, and the fish slapped his 

 tail and sailed away. Thereupon the disgusted angler fell 

 upon his face and grovelled on the ground. " Eh ! mon," 

 said he, " what a fule I am. Eh ! to miss yon grand fush. 

 Eh ! was ever siccan a misfortune ? Eh ! I'm a born fule. 

 Eh ! deary me, what a fule I am," and so on. " Come, 

 come," said one of the gentlemen, " get up and be a man, 

 Sandy. By the violence of your lamentations you might 

 have some alarm for your soul." The dejected Highlander 

 caught only the last word, and, leaping to his feet, screamed 

 like an apoplectic bagpipe " Sole, man ! Sole, dae ye say ? 

 I'd hae ye ken yon fish was a sawmon, and worth a hundred 

 soles ! " 



* # 



A certain Yorkshire nobleman carried a couple of his 

 fishing rods to a station on the North Eastern line, 

 intending to send them to a distant town to be mended. 

 Standing for a minute at the bookstall, he was thus 

 familiarly accosted by a beery stranger, a labouring man 

 "Catcht owt?" "I have not been fishing," said his 

 lordship. " Wheer, wheer are ye bahn to fish ? " queried 

 the inebriate. " I am not going fishing." This as he 

 turned on his heel " Of coursh not ; ezackly ; ye'v jusht 

 browt t' rods out to blind t* missus." 



