'With naked foot, without stocking or boot,
Right into the stream he strode—
With a splash and a splutter, with a murmur and a mutter,
And he frequently "Ah'd" and "Oh'd."
'Alas, as he tripped his bare feet slipped,
They slipped on those slimy stones,
And down he came (I forget the name
Of the very identical bones
'Upon which he sat); but he'd flies in his hat,
And as he went down the stream
The fish arose, and tugged at his clothes,
Until he began to scream.
'Round his hat's broad brim they began to swim,
And into his face did stare.
His mouth they eyed, they peeped inside,
Much wondering who lived there.
'Their victim cried, "In vain I've tried
To snare these fishes free.
Alas, for my sin, as they've got me in,
I fear they'll swallow me."
'But, "Alack, this Jonah's a fourteen-stoner,"
'Twas thus that the fishes cried.
"If we gape till we split, there will still be a bit
Of the monster left outside."
'So Will landed him safe, our fisherman waif,
In safety he landed him;
With gobble and munch he chawed up his lunch,
He was hungry after his swim.
'He has sworn he will never again endeavour
Those innocent fish to hurt,
For all he can get is thundering wet,
And any amount of dirt.
'Your truthful
'FRANK.'
After this, perhaps, it is not surprising that the boys voted fishing very poor fun, and took to mountaineering instead. They had climbed Cader Idris (a very pretty climb from its more difficult side) and Snowdon, and were resting at a first-rate hotel not far from Snowdon's foot, when they found the following letter on their breakfast-table from the Admiral:—