thing, rushes across the Big Pool, nearly on to the opposite bank.
Why won't the line run? The line is entangled in my boot-lace. He is
careering about; I feel that I am trembling like a leaf. There, I knew
it would happen; he is off with my last casting-line, hook and all. A
beauty he was, clear as silver and fresh from the sea. Well, there is
nothing for it but a walk back to the house. I have lost one fly-book,
two hooks, a couple of casting-lines, three salmon, a top joint, and I
have torn a great hole in my coat. On changing my dress before lunch,
I find my fly-book in my breast pocket, where I had not thought of
looking for it somehow. Then the rain comes, and there is not another
fishing day in my fortnight. Still, it decidedly was "one crowded hour
of glorious life," while it lasted. The other men caught four or five
salmon apiece; it is their Red Letter Day. It is marked in black in my
calendar.

* * * * *

TOOTING.

["It is a noteworthy fact that while debates have been
languishing at Westminster, at Tooting there have been Members
enough to 'make a House' any day during the past fortnight,
so keen an interest is the 'Royal and Ancient' game
exciting."--_Daily Telegraph._]

What's the use of hooting.
Or cir-cum-lo-cuting?
M.P.'s off
To play at Golf.
All the way to Tooting!