Bent and sharp as his own hook, he watches his smooth float in the rough, but finds, alas! that it dances to no tune.

Time and bait are both lost in the vain attempt:  patiently he rebaits, until he finds the rebait brings his box of gentles to a discount; and then, in no gentle humour, with a baitless hook, and abated ardor, he winds up his line and his day’s amusement(?)—­and departs, with the determination of trying fortune (who has tried him) on some, future and more propitious day.  Probably, on the next occasion, he may be gratified with the sight of, at least, one gudgeon, should the surface of the river prove glassy smooth and mirror-like. (We are sure his self-love will not be offended at the reflection!) and even now he may, with truth, aver, that although he caught nothing, he, at least, took the best perch in the undulating stream!

SCENE VII.

“Help! help!  Oh! you murderous little villin? this is vot you calls rowing, is it?—­but if ever I gets safe on land again, I’ll make you repent it, you rascal.  I’ll row you—­that I will.”

“Mister Vaterman, vot’s your fare for taking me across?”

“Across, young ’ooman? vy, you looks so good-tempered, I’ll pull you over for sixpence?”

“Are them seats clean?”

“O! ker-vite:—­I’ve just swabb’d ’em down.”

“And werry comfortable that’ll be! vy, it’ll vet my best silk?”

“Vatered silks is all the go.  Vel! vell! if you don’t like; it, there’s my jacket.  There, sit down a-top of it, and let me put my arm round you.”

“Fellow!”

“The arm of my jacket I mean; there’s no harm in that, you know.”

“Is it quite safe?  How the wind blows!”

“Lord! how timorsome you be! vy, the vind never did nothin’ else since I know’d it”

“O!  O! how it tumbles! dearee me!”

“Sit still! for ve are just now in the current, and if so be you go over here, it’ll play old gooseberry with you, I tell you.”

“Is it werry deep?”

“Deep as a lawyer.”

“O!  I really feel all over”—­

“And, by Gog, you’ll be all over presently—­don’t lay your hand on my scull”

“You villin, I never so much as touched your scull.  You put me up.”

“I must put you down.  I tell you what it is, young ’ooman, if you vant to go on, you must sit still; if you keep moving, you’ll stay where you are—­that’s all!  There, by Gosh! we’re in for it.”  At this point of the interesting dialogue, the young ’ooman gave a sudden lurch to larboard, and turned the boat completely over.  The boatman, blowing like a porpoise, soon strode across the upturned bark, and turning round, beheld the drenched “fare” clinging to the stern.

“O! you partic’lar fool!” exclaimed the waterman.  “Ay, hold on a-stern, and the devil take the hindmost, say I!”

SCENE VIII.