stayed his hand, feeling pretty secure of being the winner of the match.

He

He retraced his steps to where he had left his rod. What was his consternation to find it gone! searched up and down and on all sides, but he could not see any trace of it. Beyond a doubt some one had stolen it-his new fly rod. Heartily vexed at the occurrence, he made his way to the inn, and, after changing his clothes, took up a paper, and lit his pipe, to while away the time until the others came home.

Two, after mature consideration and a consultation with Parker, resolved on "dibbing" for chub as the most likely way of filling his basket. Chub, be it known to the uninitiated, are fond, on hot days, of basking on the top of the water under the shade of the willows or other trees. At such times they may be caught by presenting a natural insect, a beetle, cockchafer, bee, or large fly, to their notice. The hook is run through the back of the insect, and the latter is "dibbed" or dabbled on the top of the water just before their noses, the operator taking care to keep well out of sight. Often a great number may be taken in this manner. Two, however, only succeeded in landing five, all of them good sized ones, though, and he felt pretty sure of winning, until he saw, at the end of a long reach

of still, deep water below him, the stalwart figure of Three engaged in a lengthy contest with some large fish, presumably a pike, which he at last succeeded in landing. "Confound him!" said Two to himself; "who would have thought pike would take a bait this weather?" That one fish would outweigh all mine. By the way, nothing was said about not adding to the weight of one's fish. Mine were caught fair. Why shouldn't I make them weigh a little more? Here goes."

He collected a quantity of small stones and gravel, and with the aid of a small stick he crammed the stomachs of the defunct chub with them as full as he dared.

There, that will add materially to their weight. It's time to be going now. What a lovely day it is, and how blue both sky and water are! Ah! Arabella, how I wish you were here with me to enjoy this beautiful scene. I wonder if you are thinking of mesweetest, DEAREST, BEST!"

And with an approving conscience Two marched along.

Three knew where a big pike lay. He judged its weight to be about twelve pounds. It had run at his bait several times, but he had not succeeded in landing it. This day, however, he was determined upon

securing it, by fair means if possible, by foul means if fair were not sufficient. He spun the reach where the pike lay. He gave it a rest, and trolled up and down. He caught a gudgeon and tried live-baiting. Then he tried spoon bait; but all was of no use. Then he gave himself a rest for an hour, and afterwards walked quietly up one bank, waded across at a ford, and walked down the other bank of the river. There the pike was, in his old haunt, and over which Three had cast his bait several times that day. The fish lay suspended midway in the water, and apparently asleep. Three drew from his pocket a piece of long, thin, pliable wire, with a noose already made at the end of it, and artistically blackened in the fire to make it less visible. This he attached to the end of his line, and reeled up until the end of the wire entered the top ring of the rod, and so held the noose out with some degree of stiffness. Crafty Three, kneeling down, inserted the rod in the water, and very quietly and cautiously guided the noose over the head of the pike. A sudden jerk fixed the wire tight around his gills, and after a little cautious play the pike was basketed.

Of Stroke's doings there is little to be said. He managed somehow to catch a great long eel, and after this, finding his efforts unavailing, he bathed and then fell asleep on the grass, in which happy state he con

tinued until he was awakened by a cow trying to munch his hair. He then strolled quietly homewards.

Coxswain took his sketch-book up to the highwooded ground behind the house. From thence he had a good view of the trout stream. Struck by the eccentric movements of Bow, he stole downwards, and came upon that individual lying flat on his stomach on a ledge of rock, with his arms in the water, and too busily engaged in groping to see his coxswain. The latter crept away unperceived, carrying Bow's rod away with him, justly observing that its owner did not appear to want it.

The time for ascertaining the winner had come. Parker stood ready with a pair of scales. Coxswain sat in a big armchair, in his most important attitude. "Now, Bow, produce your fish."

Everybody admired the speckled beauties, and envied their possessor. They weighed six pounds. Bow looked modestly conscious of his merits as an angler.

"By the way, Bow, how did you catch those fish, considering I have your rod?" said Cox.

"You beggar! Have you got my rod? I am so glad. I wouldn't have lost it for worlds. Where did you find it?"

"Where did you get your fish?"

Oh, bother the fish! I groped for them."

Strange to say, this confession did not meet with the indignation it should have received. Stroke only looked reproachfully at his Bow, and thought of his big eel.

"Two, turn out your bag. Eight pounds-I shouldn't have thought it. Why, how hard they feel. Well! if he hasn't stuffed them full of stones. He and Bow have forfeited their chance. They may well retire into the background. Three, what have you caught? Why, look! look at the mark on his shoulders. You have snared him. Shame upon you!"

Coxswain's expostulations were drowned in an universal roar of laughter, in the midst of which long Stroke pulled out his long eel, which he had caught fairly, and he was pronounced the winner.

A merry evening closed the day. After a famous dinner, the pipes and "materials" were ordered in, and the fun by-and-by grew fast and furious.

Two volunteered a song, which he said was of his own composing. Here it is:

"WHERE THE TROUT LIE."

"Where wave the alder branches,

Shadowing o'er the stream,

And round the drooping leaflets

Changing circles gleam,

There lie the trout

So cannily.