Squire," by all means let us take further time. for consideration." 66 Anything," ejaculated our hero, energetically, “but an abandonment of our design." 66 If, then, but for your gratification," returned the Squire, "it shall be continued." 66 Many thanks, my dear Sir," added our hero. "I feel," continued he, "that I would rather make a circle of the earth barefooted, than let the doubt remain as it does. I shall never rest until the suspense be removed." "Then let the subject drop for the present," said the Squire. "Perchance time may reveal that which now appears beyond our reach." CHAPTER XV. "When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks; And maidens bleach their summer smocks; The cuckoo, then, on every tree, Mocks married men, for thus sings he Cuckoo ; Cuckoo, cuckoo-O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear." WITH Creels slung across their shoulders, cased fishing-rods in their hands, and their appointments in every particular complete for a fishing excursion, the Squire, John Hardy, our hero, and the earth-stopper, took their way across some meads, now spangled with the fresh and earliest flowers of spring, towards a fast and flashing stream just perceptible at the bottom of a rich valley in the distance. No wonder that smiles played on the features of all. The most ascetic must have yielded to the gladdening influence. Young, laughing Spring, heralded by the bird, the bee, and the butterfly, was dancing in the dew and sunshine, and all things betokened the season of bursting hope and joyousness. The primrose pale, the daisy, and daffodil, were blooming to welcome her coming. Leaf and blossom tinged the spray and bough, and nature, in gushing sunshine, revelled in her fresh-born beauty. After a silence of some duration, and during their walk towards the banks of the stream, our hero began the quotation of the following antiquated lines: "Tom Trout by native industry was taught The various arts how fishes might be caught. To baskets oft he'd pliant osiers turn, Where they might entrance find, but no return: And from afar much larger booty take, Through the quick stream he'd very shrewdly set, And then his rustic crew, with mighty poles, Gasping for breath, and almost choked with mud. Dick Trot, who lived below, ne'er thought his beer He goes to Trout, and thus begins his tale :— Now is it not a dismal thing to think That we old Trots must live and have no drink? Therefore, my friend, some other method take sake." Says Trout, "I'm sorry it should be my lot To disoblige my neighbour Trot. The fault's not mine-'tis Fortune that thus tries one, You know what's one's man's meat is another's poison.' Therefore in patience rest, though I proceed; There's no ill-nature in the case- Though for your use this water may not serve, I'd rather you should choke than I should starve." 66 "Your verses, Tom," observed the Squire, are somewhat of the milk-an'-water "Mud-and-water, Sir," replied our hero, laughing. "Well, well," rejoined the Squire. "I can answer for the concomitants being extremely unpalatable." 66 By the way," returned John Hardy, diving his fingers into a huge black pocket-book, nearly as large as a family Bible, "do me the favour of inspecting, Harry, my last attempt at the fabrication of an insect coming under the class of ephemera in entomology." "And what do you call this?" asked the Squire, glancing at the representative of one of the short-lived order. "And what do you call this?" repeated he, holding the object between his finger and thumb, at one moment close to his nasal organ, and then drawing it gradually off, as if to obtain a proper focus. "The design was," replied John, evincing no disappointment at the doomed specimen of his craft," a March Brown; but I freely confess that it bears a much stronger resemblance to a Bluebottle." "Bluebottle!" reiterated his companion, |