MR. POOLEY. 8 



principal one consisting of the fish he is about to catch, 

 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 name {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 swallows 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 san- 

 guine temperament, or a slight ruffle occasioned by 

 the zephyrs that kissed thy Cockney waters, O 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 



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