CHAPTER IV. 



ROOM IN THE INN AT 



MAY-FLY, SWIVELTOP, GAFF, and HACKLE. 



Swivel. 'Tis a craze, Bill, a very craze, this out- 

 of-door humour of Otter's and Jack Leister. 

 I abhor night angling! 'Tis a chill, comfortless 

 business, suited to savage likings and the blood of 

 brutes. How much more befitting is it, and con- 

 genial to our natures, to mete out the evening to- 

 gether in social converse, coloured and improved by 

 the influences of the circling toddy jug ! 



May. As you say, Doctor. I envy not, nor yet 

 greatly compassionate them; they will capture only 

 an ague-touch or dew-fever. No trout itself would 

 venture abroad at hours so unseasonable as this! 

 'Tis a craze altogether, as you say. 



Swivel. Ay! Bill, truly so. Fill up your glasses, 

 my boys there is no peril in this good liquor ! I 



