364< A MORNING AT BALLYSHANNON. 



and then cracking a stray joke with some of 

 the numerous hangers-on, who had disposed 

 of themselves about the broad steps in every 

 attitude of listlessness. 



Five or six attendants, each surrounded 

 by a small knot of subaltern followers, were 

 holding the long rods, pulling out the lines, 

 smoothing the feathers of the flies, or feel- 

 ing the points of the hooks — with their eyes 

 every now and then elevated to the provok- 

 ingly blue sky, to see if they could distin- 

 guish a haze of cloud, or feel a breath of 

 air. 



Beggars were there, and ragged boys 

 without number, hoping the demon of ennui 

 would put it into the gentlemen's heads to 

 give them a scramble of hot halfpence. 



" Come, this will never do," said the 

 Squire, who had taken about ten minutes 

 stumping down the stairs, examining the 

 spare rods, which were lashed to the ban- 

 isters, and pulling the reel lines into a 

 tangle just out of sheer idleness. " This 

 will never do — we may as well be on the 

 Pool as here. Come down, Parson, 111 give 

 you a place in my boat." 



But the Squire's advent was a thing as 



