46 WATERSIDE SKETCHES. 



them, the taut line is borne. The angler is commanded to 

 " let him go," to lower the point of his rod, and to take it 

 €asy. Miss Mary's oval face peers over the side of the 

 punt, and her brown eyes try to pierce the two fathoms of 

 water. Master Henry shouts aloud his conjectures. Master 

 Robert saw the monster turn over on his side. 



" It's as long as your arm, papa," he cries. 



The float is gradually being coaxed above water at last, 

 but it still makes sharp, slanting stabs, pointing to the depths 

 where the prey, whatever it may be, is making angry efforts 

 to free itself. It is a little disappointing, no doubt, when, 

 after all this fuss, the monster is netted in the shape of a 

 bronze, wiry barbel, of not much over a pound and a half; 

 but the consoling reflection remains that if it had been a 

 ■salmon itself it could not have fought more pluckily. Our 

 last glimpse at this scene of " Cockneyism" reveals the 

 proud citizen surrounded by his family, to whom he is con- 

 fidentially explaining that to slay such a fish with a footline 

 of fine gut is a particularly clever and artistic feat — a propo- 

 sition no one gainsays. Mademoiselle is much interested 

 in the demonstrations of the barbel now sulking in the well, 

 and the boys are busy separating their lines, which in the 

 -agitation of the last quarter of an hour were allowed to 

 become entangled. 



Young Browne Browne, Esq., pulling up stream with two 

 brass-buttoned ladies in the stern-sheets, rests on his sculls 

 to make game of Smith, Jones, and Robinson, in their shirt- 

 sleeves. He wonders how "these fellaws" can sit in the 

 punt after that fashion, pities the weak intellect which 

 angling denotes, and mightily amuses his pretty, gaily- 

 •dressed companions by his wit. It is strange that S., J., 



