320 FISHING GOSSIP. 
passed away, and the jack would not have ita second 
time. 
“It’s near dinner time,” said the poet, “and we 
must be off ; but we must have one cast in Weybridge 
Weir. Can’t you give us one more bit out of that 
wretched old angling book you are so fond of?” 
“Yes, friend poet; here’s to our next merry fishing 
trip, and better sport, though I can’t say more agree- 
able company. Harris, just take that last cool 
bottle out of the live-bait well, if the fish have not 
been at it, will you? We will drink to the truth of 
this— 
“« Happy the fisher’s life and humble state ; 
Calm are his hours, and free from rude debate ; 
No restless cares he knows of sordid gain, 
Nor schemes that rack the toiling statesman’s brain ; 
Fearless in shades he takes his healthy dreams, 
And labours mild amid refreshing streams’” 
F. B. 
