INHUMANITY OF ANGLING. 203 



pounds fish at least capital sport !' uttered by the crowd 

 of monsters in mire round me. 



" How long I remained in this condition I have no 

 means of knowing ; but I began to feel a sudden sensation 

 of life. I looked round and saw myself in a basket on a 

 bed of wet grass, whose coolness and moisture had pro- 

 bably restored me. I now saw the monster take the 

 basket from his back, and, laying it on the ground, wipe 

 his heavy brows, and mutter .' confoundedly hot, and five 

 miles more to walk. It was good sport, no doubt, to 

 catch this fine fellow; but I am sick of fish. I have had 

 fish enough since I came on this stupid visit to make me 

 loathe the sight of it on the table. Well, I dine at the 

 corporation feast to-day. This fellow will cut a figure 

 among the turtle and turbot. To the corporation he shall 

 go.' As I looked at the monster's bloated visage, and 

 heard his reckless speech, a throb of indignation shot 

 through me. What ! was I to be curtailed of my exis- 

 tence, mutilated and mangled only to fill the stomachs of 

 a herd of clowns, already pampered with gluttony? 

 Indignation gave me new strength. I made one tremend- 

 ous bound, sprang up in the monster's face, and to my 

 measureless joy felt that I descended in the river. One 

 thing alone was now wanting to my triumph. It was not 

 wanting long. The monster, startled by my parting blow, 

 lost his balance, toppled off the bank, and fell headlong 

 into the stream. He roared like a bull, and struggled 



