tural, so simple, that no one can be attracted by it; nor is
it possible to suspect a goose or a duck with its head down searching
for food, that paddles about in the weeds or on the shore, or dabbles
amongst the rushes. Should the keeper appear, the peasant is sure to be
found lying on his back half asleep, or singing or whistling, as if
mocking the lark in the clear blue sky above him.

Nevertheless, this goose, this duck, and this man are first-rate
thieves,--cracksmen of their class; for the peasant, before he confides
his poultry to the waves, makes their toilette; sliding under the left
wing and over the right, across the body, like a soldier's belt, a
strong and well-baited pike-hook. Thus equipped and ready for the start,
the pirate birds leave on their buccaneering expedition; but they are
scarcely a stone's throw from the shore, and well clear of the little
islands of flags, when a hungry pike, observing the delicious frog
towing in the rear, seizes it, and makes off to his hole, to gorge the
bait at his leisure. More easily thought than done;--the goose stoutly
resists, and refuses to accompany the fresh-water shark to his weedy
home. A warm and obstinate engagement is the result; the peasant
watches, with approving eye, the embarassment of his feathered
accomplice, until he thinks it time to put an end to the scrimmage, when
he whistles like an easterly wind in a passion. The goose, rather
encumbered by the carnivorous gentleman below him, endeavours for some
time but in vain to obey the signal; he flaps his wings, works away with
his legs, and cackles without ceasing. The poacher encourages him with
another whistle, and at length the bird, in spite of all his adversary's
attempts to the contrary, leads the "greedy game of the deep" to the
shore, and delivers it to his master. This is, certainly, a very curious
mode of taking pike, and the live trimmer looks very puzzled when the
voracious fish is hooked; but the following anecdote, taken from the
scrap-book of Mr. M'Diarmid, shows that a Scotchman once adopted the
same method, though for a different reason. "Several years ago," he
writes, "a farmer, living in the immediate neighbourhood of Lochmaben,
Dumfriesshire, kept a gander, who not only had a great trick of
wandering himself, but also delighted in piloting forth his cackling
harem, to weary themselves in circumnavigating their native lake, or in
straying amidst forbidden fields on the opposite shore. W