318 FISHING GOSSIP. 
I wish I could recollect the words.” ‘“The gent as 
wrote them verses didn’t live about these parts, any 
ways,” growled out Harris; “ but I think we'd better 
be off, gentlemen, if we're to catch any fish to-day.” 
So away we float again down stream. 
“P.,” said I, “the author of Piscatory Eclogues, 
who wrote about fishing a hundred and thirty-four 
years ago, must have been in a fix on just some such 
-hot day as this, when he wrote— 
“Then vainly waves the angler’s reedy cane, 
And costly baits allure the drove in vain ; 
Ofttimes he views, awarned by adverse skies, 
His fly, or sportless cork, with hopeless eyes.” 
We were still floating down, when Harris said : 
“This is Doumney ; I wonder if Mr. Buckland knows 
the meaning of that.” “No,” said I, “ what is it?” 
“Tt’s one of the places where the Romans crossed the 
Thames, and the soldiers at Chobham was going to do 
the same thing one day with their pontoons (sdldiers 
is always soldiers, sir) ; but there’s another place where 
they crossed close to Walton-bridge, and they dredge 
up curious things sometimes. The other day a man 
told me he had dredged up a marble image like, and it 
lay about in the barge a long time, and then the man 
said he would take it home, and put it in the garden 
for an ornament.” “ Harris,” I said, “where’s that 
garden? Don’t disappoint me; we'll go there in- 
stantly.” “Well, sir,” said Harris, “the man never 
