everse of what it indicated.
One evening Mr Sudberry kept tapping that antique and musical-looking
instrument, with a view to get it to speak out its mind freely. The
worthy man's efforts were not in vain, for the instrument, whether out
of spite or not, we cannot say, indicated plainly "much rain."

Now, it must be known that Mr Sudberry knew as much about trout and
salmon-fishing as that celebrated though solitary individual, "the man
in the moon." Believing that bright, dry, sunny weather was favourable
to this sport, his heart failed him when the barometer became so
prophetically depressed, and he moved about the parlour with quick,
uneasy steps, to the distress of his good wife, whose work-box he twice
swept off the table with his coat-tails, and to the dismay of George,
whose tackle, being spread out for examination, was, to a large extent,
caught up and hopelessly affixed to the same unruly tails.

Supper and repose finally quieted Mr Sudberry's anxious temperament;
and when he awoke on the following morning, the sun was shining in
unclouded splendour through his window. Awaking with a start, he
bounced out of bed, and, opening his window, shouted with delight that
it was a glorious fishing-day.

The shout was addressed to the world at large, but it was responded to
only by Hobbs.

"Yes, sir, it _is_ a hexquisite day," said that worthy; "what a day for
the Thames, sir! It does my 'art good, sir, to think of that there
river."

Hobbs, who was standing below his master's window, with his coat off,
and his hands in his waistcoat-pockets, meant this as a happy and
delicate allusion to things and times of the past.

"Ah! Hobbs," said Mr Sudberry, "you don't know what fishing in the
Highlands is, yet; but you shall see. Are the rods ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"And the baskets and books?"

"Yes, sir."

"And, ah! I forgot--the flasks and sandwiches--are they ready, and the
worms?"

"Yes, sir; Miss Lucy's a makin' of the san'wiches in the kitchen at this
moment, and Maclister's a diggin' of the worms."

Mr Sudberry shut his window, and George, hearing the noise, leaped out
of bed with the violence that is peculiar to vigorous youth. Fred
yawned.

"What a magnificent day!" said George, rubbing his hands, and slapping
himself preparatory to ablutions; "I will shoot."

"Will you--a-ow?" yawned Fred: "I shall sketch. I mean to begin with
the old woman's hut."

"What! do you mean to have your nose pluc