to fishing in all ways and especially by means of night-lines. The
little tackle-maker at the bottom of the town would soon have made his
fortune had the rage lasted, and several of the barbers began to lay in
fishing-tackle. The boys had this great advantage over their enemies,
that they spent a large portion of the day in nature's garb by the river
side, and so, when tired of swimming, would get out on the other side
and fish, or set night-lines till the keeper hove in sight, and then
plunge in and swim back and mix with the other bathers, and the keepers
were too wise to follow across the stream.

While things were in this state, one day Tom and three or four others
were bathing at Wratislaw's, and had, as a matter of course, been taking
up and resetting night-lines. They had all left the water, and were
sitting or standing about at their toilets, in all costumes from a shirt
upwards, when they were aware of a man in a velveteen shooting-coat
approaching from the other side. He was a new keeper, so they didn't
recognise or notice him, till he pulled up right opposite, and began:--

"I see'd some of you young gentlemen over this side a fishing just now."

"Hullo, who are you? what business is that of yours, old Velveteens?"

"I'm the new under-keeper, and master's told me to keep a sharp look-out
on all o' you young chaps. And I tells 'ee I means business, and you'd
better keep on your own side, or we shall fall out."

"Well, that's right, Velveteens--speak out, and let's know your mind at
once."

"Look here, old boy," cried East, holding up a miserable coarse fish or
two and a small jack, "would you like to smell 'em and see which bank
they lived under?"

"I'll give you a bit of advice, keeper," shouted Tom, who was sitting in
his shirt paddling with his feet in the river; "you'd better go down
there to Swift's, where the big boys are, they're beggars at setting
lines, and'll put you up to a wrinkle or two for catching the
five-pounders." Tom was nearest to the keeper, and that officer, who was
getting angry at the chaff, fixed his eyes on our hero, as if to take a
note of him for future use. Tom returned his gaze with a steady stare,
and then broke into a laugh, and struck into the middle of a favourite
School-house song--

As I and my companions
Were setting of a snare,
The gamekeeper was watching us,
For him we did not care:
For we can wrestle and f