o
start; so let's be for packing up."

"Oh! Pa," said Harry.

"Oh-h-h-h! Pa-a-a-a," said Philip.

And "Oh-h-h! Uncle," remonstrated Fred.

But Mr Inglis was inexorable, for the afternoon was passing away, and
the evening closing in; so the spoils were collected and placed in the
basket, when it was found that Fred's eel had disappeared, having
crawled out, and, no doubt, wriggled through the grass into the lake
again. However, there was a very fair basket of fish to take home; and,
when all the tackle had been packed up, and they returned to the yard
and placed the things in the dog-cart, the horse was put to, and,
freshened with his long rest, he made the wheels spin merrily round, and
the dust fly back in a cloud from his heels, as he trotted homeward as
fast as he could, well knowing that there was a snug, clean stable
waiting for him, and plenty of fresh hay and sweet corn to enjoy after
his long journey.

The sport of the day formed a never-tiring theme for conversation during
the ride home; every finny captive being exalted into almost the
importance of a whale. The only person at all dissatisfied with the
day's proceedings was Harry, who rather felt that his want of success
was owing to the lack of perseverance. However, he made vows of future
attention to everything he attempted, and was drawing a very
brightly-coloured plan for the future, when home was reached, and Mrs
Inglis seen waiting in the porch to view the fruits of their day's
angling.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

OLD SAM'S TROUBLES.--A SAD STORY.

"Now, I don't care whether you gets punished or not; but I means to tell
master, for you all oughter know better, and it ain't right."

"But I tell you we didn't do it, Sam," said Harry.

"Ah! don't tell me; I knows you did. There's footmarks all along from
the gap, right across the potato piece, and everybody else will begin to
go the same way, and make a regular path of it."

"But we didn't go that way," chorussed the boys.

"Why, what an old stupid it is," said Philip; "he won't believe
anything."

Sam's trouble was a trampled track across a newly-enclosed piece of
ground, which Mr Inglis had lately purchased near the village, and Sam
had planted with potatoes for home consumption. It certainly was
annoying, for a ditch had been cut round it, a bank made, and, on the
top, a neat little hedge of hawthorn planted; but some idle people were
in the habit of jumping across the ditch, tramp