ANGLING REMINISCENCES. 87 



King Baunch? Ha! not at home? 'tis strange, 

 and after breakfast too against his custom. 



Enter TROUT, and retires, after snapping at the 

 PIKE'S tail. 



My tail ! this is audacity ! a blackguard eel, no 

 doubt loathsome pest ! There's no checking the 

 freedoms these wretches use with our anointed per- 

 sonsand then they screw themselves under ground 

 ere we can get a peep at them. But this bite is a 

 confounded sharp one, and no eel's neither, but a 

 traitor trout's. King Baunch's mayhap ; the saga- 

 cious knave ! he shall suffer for it. Methinks, 

 however, I should have had a glimpse of his un- 

 wieldy flanks, wheeling round, as I did, so readily. 

 Revenge is my motto, and away I set to deal 

 heavy havoc for this act of aggression ! The starry- 

 sides, I warrant them, will soon come to terms. 



Exit PIKE. 



Re-enter three TROUT. 



1st Trout, You managed old Clang-chops neatly! 

 He is in a fearful fury, and swears destruction to 

 our whole tribe, dashing this way and that, whisk- 

 ing his tail and grinding his teeth. 



2d Trout. He is as Mind as a worm, and will run 

 himself ashore ere long. Poor King Baunch was 

 accustomed to catch half his dinner for him, and no 

 small matter it was. He hasn't a slice of the wits 



