IN THE SHIEES. 



I. 



Chance Laving led me again into tlie shires^ I find 

 myself once more at "Wansford^ in England," re- 

 posing at the '' Haycock ^^ as in days of yore ; tlie 

 weather beautiful, exactly the sort in which to do 

 nothing nicely ; so I saunter about the stables, exa- 

 mine the stud, try the horses, admire the breed of fox- 

 terriers, fraternise with the tame fox — a noble speci- 

 men of the vulpine race, who plays with me with all 

 the confidence of a pet dog, and is the only one of his 

 race that I have ever met on such intimate and friendly 

 terms. Then fishing in the pleasant waters of the 

 Nene suggests itself; and, regardless of the remarks 

 as to the two things usually to be found at the extreme 

 ends of a rod and line, I go roach-fishing for choice ; 

 and — though " fishing is a pleasure which nobody can 

 deny " — at least so the song asserts — there can be no 

 doubt that it is the most disappointing of all the 

 sports of man. There is always too much or too little 

 water ; it is either too thick or too clear, or something 

 else that " didn^t ought to be," and the result is that 

 my attendant caught a small fish, and I a big cold. 



Another day I go farming, laying in an immense 

 fund of knowledge in respect to sheep and lambs, 

 oxen and pigs, which will enable me on my return to 

 be down on the London butcher, if he does not reduce 



