On a grassy bank, beside a meandering stream, sat two gentlemen averaging forty years of age. The day was sultry, and, weary of casting their lines without effect, they had stuck their rods in the bank, and sought, in a well-filled basket of provisions and copious libations of bottled porter, to dissipate their disappointment.
“Ain't this jolly? and don't you like a day's fishing, Sam?”
“O! werry much, werry much,” emphatically replied his friend, taking his pipe from his mouth.
“Ah! but some people don't know how to go a-fishinq, Sam; they are such fools.”
“That's a werry good remark o' your'n,” observed Sam; “I daresay as how hangling is werry delightful vhen the fishes vill bite; but vhen they von't, vhy they von't, and vot's the use o' complaining. Hangling is just like writing: for instance—you begins vith, 'I sends you this 'ere line hoping,' and they don't nibble; vell! that's just the same as not hanswering; and, as I takes it, there the correspondence ends!”
“Exactly; I'm quite o' your opinion,” replied his companion, tossing off a bumper of Barclay's best; “I say, Sammy, we mustn't empty t'other bottle tho'.”
“Vhy not?”
“Cos, do you see, I'm just thinking ve shall vant a little porter to carry us home: for, by Jingo! I don't think as how either of us can toddle—that is respectably!”
“Nonsense! I'd hundertake to walk as straight as a harrow; on'y, I must confess, I should like to have a snooze a'ter my pipe; I'm used to it, d'ye see, and look for it as nat'rally as a babby does.”
“Vell, but take t'other glass for a nightcap; for you know, Sammy, if you sleep vithout, you may catch cold: and, vhatever you do, don't snore, or you'll frighten the fish.”