Something like a Catch.—Mrs. Binks (sick of it). "Really, John! How can you bear to spend your time whip—whip—whipping at the stream all day long and never a single fish taking the least notice of you?"
John. "Ah, but think o' the delight, Maria, when you do get a fish! Lor' bless us, my dear, have you forgotten the day when you hooked me?"
From Dee-side.—Piscator. "Yes, my boy, ain't he a beauty? Forty pounds—three foot eight from tail to snout—fresh run! I'm going to have him photographed, with a full-grown man standing by, to show the proportions. By the way"—(faintly)—"would—er—would you mind being the man?"