No victim to a foolish pride.
My object is to capture fish;
Let me confess, then, since you ask it--
A worm it is which fills my basket!

O brown, unlovely, wriggling worm,
On which with scorn the haughty look,
It is thy fascinating squirm
Which brings the fattest trout to book,
From thee unable to refrain,
Though flies are cast for him in vain!

Deep gratitude to thee I feel,
And then, perhaps, it's chiefly keen,
When rival anglers view my creel,
And straightway turn a jealous green;
And, should they ask me--"What's your fly?"
"A fancy pattern," I reply!

* * * * *

SWORD AND PEN;

OR, THE RIVAL COMMANDERS.

(_EXTRACT FROM A MILITARY STORY OF THE NEAR FUTURE._)

Captain Pipeclay was perplexed when his Company refused to obey him.
He was considered a fairly good soldier, but not up to date. He might
know his drill, he might have read his _Queen's Regulations_, but he