And the world goes on and the mouvement continues, and ever and anon the Happy Thoughter, returning to the river, finds the same man in the same boat in almost the same position. Then, before retiring for the night, the H. T. takes one turn on the lawn, "pour m'assurer," he says, "que je ne laisse rien derrière moi. Ah si! je laisse l'homme au bachot, toujours sa ligne en main. Il avait, paraît-il, un pen redescendu le courant. 'Bonne pêche?' 'Non.' 'Pris quelque chose?' 'Rien.'" Those who read "entre les lignes" may see in this figure of unrewarded patience and perseverance more than meets the eye. M. Aurelien de Courson has done his work excellently well, "avec l'autorisation de l'auteur."
I found a book on my table lying among a number of others put aside to be read at "a more convenient season." The title attracted me—Clove Pink. Its leaves are of last autumn, but the story they tell is for ever. It is admirably written; its word-painting is the work of a true artist: but beginning brightly and gladly, as do the lives of the young hero and heroine, it ends sadly but sweetly. If you are not averse to a simple, well-told tale, with stirring incidents of modern warfare, graphically narrated, that stand out in startling contrast to the scenes of quiet English rural life, a story whose pathos and simple truth will touch you deeply, read Clove Pink, says
The Baron de Book-Worms.
VERY CATCHING.
"To-morrow will be Fry day,
So we'll catch our fish to-day."
Somebody's Song.
In the Times of Monday, April 8, appeared an advertisement headed "Lent, Lent—Fish, Fish." This meant, of course, that the season was Lent, not that the fishmonger was a lender of fish. And for the season it was Holy Week, i.e. last week of Lent. Then it goes on "Have you ordered your Good Friday's Dinner? If not, do so at once." Excellent and most timely advice, seeing it was given on the Monday preceding Good Friday. So far so good; but then comes "a reason why" which apparently quite upsets the kettle of fish. Here is the extract:—