MB. POOLEY. 23 



with Izaak Walton's instructions for cooking them. The 

 miller generally puts on a somewhat distressing smile on 

 this occasion, as the said dish of fish is rather addressed 

 to the imagination than otherwise — food for the mind 

 alone. Behold him now, seated on a spot which has long 

 borne his na,me( Mr. Pooley's Seat). The story runs, that 

 he once caught a pike there of five pounds; but the truth 

 is, that the said pike was actually only two pounds, but 

 he added a pound to its weight every passing year, 

 because he said that the fish would have gained as 

 much had he lived up to the present day of reckoning. 

 This was a mode of calculation that some even of his 

 most intimate friends could not assent to, but he was 

 always peremptory on the subject. His person now 

 being fairly disposed on the bank, with his short and 

 comely legs dangling over the weir, he becomes deeply 

 intent upon his neatly painted float. On this his 

 longing eyes are bent. He sees but askance the swal- 

 lows that flit by him, and the willow that droops over 

 the pool — he sees only his float. By Jupiter, it bobs! — 

 now is the decisive moment. Prompt and energetic, 

 he gives a scientific jerk, and up comes the light line 

 obedient. Is there the semblance of a fish at the end 

 of it ? O no, certainly not. What then made the float 

 move ? Who can say ? Perhaps it was only a delusion 

 of the optics brought on by a sanguine temperament, 

 or a slight ruffle occasioned by the zephyrs that kissed 

 thy Cockney waters, gently slumbering Lea ! You 

 were excited, Mr. Pooley, you must own, dreadfully 

 excited, — and it well became you to be so, for the 

 moment was awful ; but we will leave vou to resume 



