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Four rods have been constantly at work, and three have been constantly taking fish. The fourth is in the hands of the admittedly best angler of the party, and he uses the finest gut and hooks, but, to his chagrin and surprise, while his friends have caught fish whether careful or careless, he has not perceived so much as an accidental nibble. Finding him accordingly in a despondent frame of mind, we cheer him with such cheap comfort as we can find at a moment's notice. Even as we speak his delicate float trembles, and then rises slowly and mysteriously until it lies flat upon the sluggish water. Every angler knows the meaning of that welcome token. There is much jubilation over such a beginning, and we feel it right in duty bound to drink each other's health in a flask of brown sherry, which one of the brotherhood—a City man of course produces with a flourish.

What follows aptly illustrates the unexplainable fancies of the fish world. For an hour the previously unsuccessful tisherman hauls out as fast as he can bait his hook, and his three friends, who had been pitying him for hours, are now recipients of our compassionate regrets. There is no rhyme or reason for this sudden whim of the tench, and at the termination of the hour the biting ceases as suddenly as it began, and not another fish is brought to land. The tench had taken well-scoured marsh worms, absolutely refusing to touch either striped brandlings, tempting lobs, or ablebodied gentles, and it was noticed as a curious circumstance that while at one spot the bites were sharp and vigorous, the float disappearing without much hesitation, a few yards off the fish dawdled over the bait, as tench frequently do, leaving the angler in doubt whether the movement of the float was not a mere accident. As the bottom was muddy rather than gravelly, the anglers had naturally fished a couple of inches from it, and, all told, were, on quitting the field, able to show a total of over thirty pounds, which, for so capricious a fish as the tench, may be considered fair sport.

Our Opening Day we deem on the whole all that could be wished. We can say with the philosopher“ Our riches consist in the fewness of our wants." We can boast of no sensational creels, but we are all satisfied and at peace with each other. Hungry as hunters, we gather in the eventide round the table of our pleasant room, beneath whose balcony a bye-stream hurries, mad with the impetus received from a weir at the bottom of the garden, and foaming with anger as it shoots under the roadway. Incidents of the day, trifling in

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themselves perhaps, and bits of observation and experience, not startling or profound it may be, are exchanged, while the clink of the knife and fork beats time to the soothing plash and flow outside the window. And so our Opening Day, like all other days, runs to its close, and to-morrow we shall be at our posts in the busy spheres of the big city, better rather than worse for those pleasant hours by the waterside.

RED SPINNER.

HA, HA, THE JILLET, OH!

,

HE was young, and he was old,

Ha, ha, the jillet, oh!
He had riches, he had gold,

Ha, ha, the jillet, oh!
Haverin', crabbit, auld was he,
Sweetly fair and sonsie she,
Hoo could sic a wedding be?

Ha, ha, the jillet, oh!

There were mony lads aboot,

Ha, ha, the jillet, oh!
Cam to see th' auld mon, no doot,

Ha, ha, the jillet, oh!
Ane there was ca’ed Jock by name,
Oftener than the rest he came,
Always found the lass at hame,

Ha, ha, the jillet, oh!

Noo the carl is gane to rest,

Ha, ha, the jillet, oh!
Dourly is the lassie drest,

Ha, ha, the jillet, oh!
But they say that Jockie's gay,
He'll be marrit, so they say,
When the lassie names the day,
Ha, ha, the jillet, oh !

GORDON CAMPBELL.

(Exeter Coll., Oxford.)

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Twas a feverish day for all parties concerned, the day on

which the confession of Philip Ransford was signed at Mr. Cuffing's chambers; but to no one was it so exciting as

to the late prisoner of Bow Street. This person had fully matured his plans for terminating the business in such a way as to make him entire master of the situation.

After the signing of the paper Mr. Cuffing had resolved that he and Ransford should part company no more until the money was fairly in their possession.

“When you have packed your bag you can come with me to my chambers, and we will take a cab together to the station,” said Phil, humouring this evident desire of his friend.

“Good,” said Cuffing; "our train goes at eight.”

“Yes,” replied Ransford, quietly remarking to himself that there was also one at seven.

“ His lordship seemed in good spirits," continued Cuffing, who was tearing up letters and putting his desk in order.

“ Yes; he thinks it is all right; I wish him joy of his lady,” said Ransford, lolling on the back of a chair.

“You are a brute, Ransford. Can't you shut up now that you have at last told the truth and brought the business to an end?”

“ I am not a brute, Cuffing ; and now that the business is at an end, as you say, I will thank you to address me in a different tone to that which you have so long assumed.”

“Indeed,” said Cuffing, looking up. “Come into my bedroom while I finish putting up my wardrobe for our interesting journey, and we will discuss the point further.”

Ransford lighted a cigar and followed his friend into the adjoining

room, where Cuffing emptied the contents of some narrow drawers into a capacious carpet bag, waiting every now and then to fold some article of clothing with special care.

“Now what is it you say, Ransford, about my manner towards you ?” he asked presently, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and contemplating his companion.

“That you are to be civil, my friend, and consider that we are now no longer solicitor and client, but friends, companions, what

you will."

61 Has my

66

"You are right, Phil,” said the lawyer carelessly. “There's my hand. You have offered me yours frequently during our acquaintance; I give you mine now in token of good faith."

Ransford looked astonished, and did not respond as promptly as he might have done.

“Why, what is this?” exclaimed Cuffing quickly. frankness surprised you ? or have you a lingering desire to be treacherous which obstructs the usual gush of your nature ?"

“My dear Cuffing, you astonished me by your sudden kindness," said Ransford. “I take your hand with all the sincerity in life. [Shaking his hand warmly.) To have your hand in mine thus has long been the dearest wish of my heart. If men who have fought such a fight as ours are not true and faithful to each other there is no friendship left in the world.”

Cuffing looked doubtingly at Phil, and proceeded to lock his bag.

True,” he said presently, “it is our interest to stick to each other, and there is no reason why we should not have a pleasant time together abroad. My idea is to settle down in some quiet Italian village and study art. You smile ; but I am in earnest. Perhaps you may be safer in Spain. I don't know. I think we can trust this lord; men in his position are superstitious about their word of honour, as they call it.”

“I am your man for a good time together. I don't mean to risk much, but I should like to have a look at the green cloth and my friend the croupier," said Phil.

“Well, as you please ; I do not intend to risk a cent. I rather think I will study for the Italian bar; that is not a bad idea, eh? Or perhaps I will marry some pretty woman with money and have an Italian farm. I am sick of this grimy London, where even summer is beastly."

“You are romantic,” said Phil. “But is it not time we started for Piccadilly?"

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