98 FISHING GOSSIP. 



to Mr. Bagnall, provided lie can but satisfactorily 

 achieve his everlasting pot of beer, in which to 

 " pledge the memory," etc. Poor Cowper may hide 

 his diminished head. Nay, we doubt whether the 

 birthplace of Shakespeare himself would evoke more 

 than a passing stare from Mr. Bagnall, unless coupled 

 with the facilities for swallowing malt liquor. Even 

 the anticipation of the grand ruins of Betchworth 

 Castle cannot suggest a more poetical prepara- 

 tion than a "call in at the Old Punch Bowl," 

 and the imbibing of "a portion of the celebrated 

 Eeigate ale, to circulate the blood and comfort the 

 stomach." As it was at Betchworth, so was it at the 

 Thatched House, and so it was at Highbury " Beer, 

 beer, beer ! " or, as Bon Gaultier's fat old woman 

 would say, " Stout, more stout ! " In fine, the vaunted 

 "local and historical allusions" promised by Mr. 

 Bagnall's preface almost in every instance resolve 

 themselves into visits to pot-houses or other places 

 connected directly or indirectly with what he calls 

 " edible enjoyments." 



Yes, the " gentle " craft is certainly becoming 

 plebeian ! It is afflicted with a literature as large 

 perhaps as that of all other field sports put together, 

 and of which nine-tenths would appear to have been 

 written for the purpose of showing how silly and 

 offensive vulgar people can become when smitten by 

 the cacoethes scrilendi. We had recently occasion to 



