122 AN ANGLER'S BASKET. 



have had enough preface, come to the book and tell us what 

 the idea was." " Well," said Jackson, " to tell ye t* truth, I 

 were a bit fresh when this idea cum, and in the morning I 

 could not for t' life on me remember what it were." 



Some friends of mine, a few years ago anglers every 

 one, especially the man who did it could not sleep in a 

 certain inn at Douglas for the crowing of a Cochin China 

 cock, with a crow like a miniature cross between a fog horn 

 and a bass voice in a consumption. Just as they went to 

 bed one night, one of the trio opined they would sleep that 

 night, and they did ; the cock did not crow. Next morning 

 there were enquiries from the other two as to what had 

 been done to the bird, and hints were thrown out that he 

 had been smothered; he was found at length, however, 

 under a wheel-barrow in the yard, with his tail down, his 

 wings drooping, and his attitude that of abject misery* 

 " Well, Tom," said one, " how did you effect this ? " " Oh, 

 easily enough," said the other one, " I just gave him seven 

 pennyworth of Cockle's pills." 



I heard, not long since, of a Romish priest holding a 

 theological argument with a Methodist minister. The 

 latter persistently alluded to Paul and others, without any 

 prefix, until at length the good father rising to the occasion, 

 said, " Look here, my good friend, if you cannot bring 

 yourself to speak of Saint Paul, you might have the decency 

 to call him Mr." 



* # 



A woman went to a certain Lancashire mill, and asked 

 for work as a weaver. The manager asked her if she had 

 got her character with her. " No," she said, she had not, 

 but she could soon get it. " Then," said the manager, " go- 



