DUM CAPIMUS CAPIMUR. 5 



Some men there are, I know, who prefer a helter- 

 skelter rush, thorough flood thorough fell, after a burly 

 salmon, with a moral certainty of breaking either 

 their tackle or their necks, and a very fair chance of 

 taking an involuntary header over a cataract, or being 

 soused plummet-wise into a whirlpool ; others again 

 rejoice in a tussle with that grim cannibal the pike, 

 or a solitary stroll, trout-rod in hand, by the banks 

 of the arrowy Dart, " shut in, left alone, with them- 

 selves and perfection of water ;" but of all sports and 

 spots commend me to a good gravelly swim on the 

 Thames in July, a punt, a rake, a pretty companion, 

 and a day's gudgeon-fishing. 



" A league of grass, washed by a slow broad stream 

 That, stirred with languid pulses of the oar, , 

 Waves all its lazy lilies and creeps on." . . . 



What can be more jolly? A fellow has come 

 back, regularly done up, perhaps, with grind, to 

 spend "the long" at the Grange with the cousins 

 (Julia is a ward in Chancery, I fancy ?) one of those 

 broad white houses to be found nowhere but on 

 the banks of Thames, with a skirting of pheasant- 

 cover or wooded cliff as a background, and a lawn as 

 smooth and green as the finest Genoa velvet, sloping 

 down from the drawing-room steps to the boathouse. 

 The moment breakfast's over, " Now then, come along 

 girls !" some one shouts ; and out you go, through 



