FIN AND FUR ON SURREY HILLS. 87 



The guardian of the night accepted that splendid 

 pike, and marched off a happy man — the pike on 

 one side, balanced by his staff on the other. As I 

 noted the broad tail of the fish flopping against his 

 leg from the inside of his coat, "Pat Haggerty's 

 wedding" popped into my head — 



" Where the bride she was dressed in 

 A short-bodied gown, 

 Jist made in the fashion, 

 The tail hangin' down.'' 



As soon as the constable was out of sight, we both 

 roared with laughter. 



To this day the real state of the case is not known, 

 nor where that very mysterious outlet is. The re- 

 ceiver of the pike has passed over to the majority 

 long ago, and the miller was never the wiser. I kept 

 poor Harlequin's secret, as I have done many an- 

 other of the sort in my day. 



Of all our Surrey mills, pleasantest to me are the 

 Woodland valley mills, shut out as they are from all 

 sounds of traffic — cool and quiet spots surrounded 

 by trees. A flight of old brick steps led down from 

 the mill-head into the garden, and then you saw the 

 miller's house, — one I often visited and rested in. 



