directions, while he shoulders a whole sheaf of rods of most imposing dimensions. "Feels hisself the cock of the walk, don't he?" whispers another fisherman of a different type. Short and sturdy, in boots and a soft tweed suit, above which is a layer of coats of various ages and shades of colour; his face is fresh and ruddy, and innocent of beard or whisker, while his features are large and strongly moulded, except as to chin, which is sunk in the many folds of his woollen comforter. His regards are directed to the pacer of the platform with no very amiable expression, when the latter in one of his turns catches sight of him and greets him. "Morning, Simcox; going to have a good day ?" "Mornin', Captin," replies Simcox. "We ain't got 'em yet." Over which enigmatical expression the Captain pon ders for a moment and then resumes his stride. But now the train comes up, and there is a general rush to get on board, the carriages being already pretty well filled, mostly with passengers of the piscatorial persuasion, whose rods and tanks and baskets encumber the floor, so as to make it difficult to enter without damaging the tackle, especially as a murky gloom envelopes the interior, intensified if not caused by the smoke of many pipes. "Tumble in, gov'nor," says a cheerful if husky voice, and Simcox and another scramble into the already well-filled compartment. It says much for the amiable character of fishermen in general that not a voice was raised against the overcrowding. "What brings so many of you chaps along to-day?" asks Simcox, when he has settled his belongings as comfortably as circumstances will allow. For, in addition to his personal equipments, he has a large can of live bait; a sack full of what looks like small cannon-balls, which are really cunningly fashioned of clay and compounded of such ingredients as chopped worms or pounded snails, with a few delicacies from the slaughter-house. Then there is a mahogany case with brass handles, such as those persevering creatures carry who canvass householders to buy sewing machines; or it might hold a photographic camera; but in reality it is a mine of ingenious surprises for the finny tribe. There is a whole battery of floatsfrom the huge affair painted red and black, which resembles one of those buoys you meet bobbing about in the neighbourhood of shoals and sandbanks, to the delicate quill which might have been cut down from a toothpick. Then there are reels!-the famous wooden pirns of Nottingham make, so noiseless and free-running, which have now won their way into favour on the Thames, with others of brass, of which the click suggests a clock running down. Of lines in gut, and silk, and hair, Simcox possessed a handsome collection; with gimp, and swivels, and traces, and oddments of all kinds, but all carefully arranged on winders of metal or ivory. Then he has his paternosters and his ledger lines, and a great volume the pages of which are so many pockets of hooks of all sizes and characters. About his other possessions Simcox is modestly unassuming, but as to his hooks he is justly proud, and he hands round what he calls surely "a No. 7 snick-eyed bend," with the air of one who lives in a higher and serener atmosphere than the present. Every other fisherman has his box and something in it on which he prides himself. But as for the question, which Simcox now repeats, "What brings you chaps along?" the answer is general: "Why, mate, there's only one more Sunday as we can come ! Only one more Sunday to sit by the icy margin of a river, with snow drifting pleasantly in at one ear and an east wind piercing you to the bones! And there is a general wail of sorrow at the thought. One of the youngest and most athletic of the party suggests, indeed, that cricket begins a fortnight after; but this brings no consolation to the rest. The general impression is that when fishing is over the only way to spend your Sunday is to sleep through it. Yet Simcox suggests a worthier alternative. There is always a rod to be revarnished, winches want oiling, lines should be carefully looked over, hooks re-whipped; in fact, Simcox carries Hope in his mahogany box, and no sooner is one season closed than he looks forward to another. By this time Twickenham is reached, and there is a general turn-out of the fishermen. Some, indeed, there are who are going higher up the river as far as Shepperton or Sunbury, and who are the proud possessors of tickets to preserved waters here and there; but for the general run of London anglers Twickenham is good enough and far enough; indeed, it is possible to go a long way further and fare considerably worse. There are more than usual who detrain at Twickenham terrace, with wide flights of steps to the river, and there is an air of cosy dignity in the warm red-brick mansions which rise among the trees; and it would not be difficult to compose a stately kind of picture, with Watteau-like groups of fine dames and gallants embarking on their gilded barges. this morning, for it is the scene, so Simcox informs us, of a considerable competition. His club is on the war-path, which, by the way, is not to be understood as the tow-path, for it is a naval expedition which is now in question-a punt competition among the punters of the club, of whom the Captain, it seems, is chief -that is, in his own opinion, as Simcox remarks bitterly. The club is known as the "Maid of the Mist" Angling Association, and holds its weekly meetings at the "Ponsonby Arms," in the not very aquatic region which lies between Ealing and the Marble Arch. It is a fair type of the numerous angling clubs which exist all over London and its suburbs; no less than a hundred and eighty-seven of which are set forth in the pages of the "Dictionary of the Thames." These clubs, and other minor ones not affiliated to the general association, number probably at least ten thousand members. Add to these the 'number of unattached anglers, who delight every now and then in a day's fishing, that day of necessity being, in most cases, Sunday, and it will be seen that there is nothing unusual in this movement we have witnessed among the fishermen, in the early morning hours, when the greater part of the world is abed and asleep. All through the winter months in the bitterest of weather, and through snow, and frost, and rime, and rain, the Thames angler will be found"We ain't got 'em yet, Captin," is his final stationed motionless on the river bank, visible as a mere hazy blotch in the chilly gloom of midwinter. Things are not so bad to-day, for if the frost be keen and the wind nipping, there is a suspicion of colour in the sky and a faint tinge upon the morning mists, which suggests that the sun hopes to shine through them by-and-by. And if Twickenham of the crossways, a straggling village which hardly responds to the dignified impressions one may have formed of it, is wrapped in sleep, yet is it not altogether so, for here are a lot of cows with their calves, and boys behind them with sticks, fully awake themselves and likely to be the cause of wakefulness to others, and a soldier wrapped in his martial cloak is a moving object in the scene. But anyhow the blinds are down and there are no faces at the windows as we tramp along, a solid column of fishermen, on our way to watery Twickenham. The river aspect of the place is far more imposing than the other, for there we have a quite noble river But to-day the gilded barges are represented by so many punts; there is a cluster of them about each of the flights of steps, and these are all provisioned and prepared for the approaching contest-provisioned, that is, as far as the fishes are concerned, with sacks of ground-bait of the most appetising kind, with cans of boiled pith for bait, and with other butcher ware in buckets or in tins of various capacity. Each punt has its professional fisherman in charge, and many are the greetings which pass between them and their patrons as these come clattering down to the shore. "Morning, sir." "Well, Charles." "How are you, sir?" "Not quite as bad as you might expect." "Nice lively bait." "Lively cold, too, Joe, ain't it?" "Don't think they're on the job to-day, sir." Now there are stone jars shipped on board, with baskets of provisions, and little flat bottles circulate among the professionals, provided no doubt by liberal patrons. The Captain is one of the first to embark and is poled up the stream. He waves a salutation to Simcox, who watches the scene morosely. greeting. Now one punt after another makes a start, and is poled up or down stream to some appointed station, where they are anchored stem and stern, indifferent terms in punts, by pole at either end, and then operations begin. With your legs well cased in straw, and with somebody to bait your hooks, and deal with the ground-bait and messes, and, eventually, to hold your rod while you keep your hands in your pockets, or sit upon them to prevent their freezing, under these circumstances even punt fishing may be endurable on a bleak March day with a nor'easter every now and then ruffling the placid river. For it is placid this broad river, and every now and then with a gleam of sunshine, as the boats are reflected in the waters, with a white sail here and there shining through the morning haze, the swans floating double, swan and shadow, with lawns and terraces rising in pleasant dignity from the tide, there comes a distinct feeling of the returning delights of spring, which the thickening twigs, just tinged with the faintest colour, seem to share. Then there comes an icy blast and everything curls up. Now that we have seen the punters under weigh, there is nothing more to be seen on the terrace, and Simcox means to find his way to a certain swim he knows of on the other side of the river. And a pleasant crossing is "Twitnam ferry," famous in song and story, and not unknown on canvas moreover. How many spirits may cross with us who have often enough made the passage in full enjoyment of corporeal life? Swift, and Gay, and Pope, and the beauties of the Court, who loved a frolic with the wits Madge Bellenden, and Molly Lepel, and Mrs. Howard from Marble Hill. Blest Thames's shore the brightest beauties yield! But the ferryman is waiting and Simcox is impatient, although he owns to a nodding acquaintance with Alexander Pope, whom he claims as a brother fisherman on the strength of the following lines, which show that he knew how to pull them out: Our plenteous streams a various race supplyThe bright-eyed perch with fins of Tyrian dye, The silver eel in shining volumes rolled, The yellow carp in scales bedropped with gold, Swift trouts diversified with crimson stains, And pikes the tyrants of the watery plains. As for the roach, and the dace, and the chub, which are more likely to make up the basket of the modern fisherman, they were not good enough, perhaps, surmises Simcox, for Master Pope; and if you fish for the pot, and not for honour and glory, Master Pope was right. sustenance, and exchange of worms and grubs. "I'll trouble you for a lob, John," says one, while another borrows a trifle of boiled brains just to sweeten the ground a bit. But there is a solemn feeling about the proceedings that saves them from being in any way ridiculous; and, indeed, to be handling worms and cold, slimy bait with the thermometer showing many degrees of frost shows a man gifted with an amazing deal of constancy. But the island opposite is illustrious in the eyes of Simcox as the scene of last Sunday's tournament, in which he proved himself as one of the most accomplished lances, winning the second prize with four pounds six ounces and a half of roach and dace, whereas the Captain (Simcox laughs sardonically at this) weighed in with nine and a quarter ounces six pennyweights. "And yet," continues Simcox, "that man takes it upon himself to arrogate authority over the fire-irons and control the supply of gas in the club-room. He has bullied himself into the committee, and he hopes to bully himself into the President's chair; but if he does, there will be one missing among the 'Maids of the Mist,' and the missing member will be yours obediently, Simcox." peculiar effect. Such refinements were unknown in the days of Master Pope, when the angler's apparatus was more simple perhaps. By this time Simcox has reached his favourite pitch, and begins to unlimber. Now one sees the use of the big mahogany box. When the tackle is put together, the box that held it makes a satisfactory seat, and the sight of every man sitting on his own box and edging the margin of the dark The ferryman puts us across to the tow-swirling river with motionless form has a path, which is broad and high above the channel, with recent high tides marked in lines of withered reeds, and sedges, and débris of a miscellaneous character-the corks of last season's banquets al fresco, the branches which the winter's storms have swept from the trees; and here and there are frozen pools where the waters have lingered, and the withered bent grass is powdered with snow. But the high bank affords a modified shelter from the keen wind to those who are perched at the margin of the stream, and here at intervals our friends, the anglers, are taking up their stations. Such careful plumbing of the depth is going on, such conference as to what they may be taking just now. Here are the neat red worms, a wriggling mass, and the gentles cunningly preserved in bran. In a general way the anglers are grouped in pairs for mutual comfort and The patient fisher takes his silent stand, Intent, his angle trembling in his hand, With looks unmoved, he hopes the scaly breed, And eyes the dancing cork and bending reed. The quill, indeed, has replaced the cork in fine fishing, and the fishing of the day is very fine indeed, and the Nottingham reel and fine running tackle has almost superseded the old usage of the Thames. Now we are in sight of Teddington Lock, and the roar of the weir sounds with chilly persistence in the ears. There are plenty of fishermen about the lock, where perch are said to be more plentiful than in any other part of the river. But we don't see any landed. Little bleak attack the worm almost as big as them selves and are pulled out and tossed contemptuously away, but nothing sizeable rewards the angler's pains. But it is not lucky for a fisherman to be watched, any more than a pot that is wanted to boil. But there is a man in a punt who has fixed himself just under the weir in the midst of the roar and clash of waters, which resemble, in a small scale, the rapids below Niagara. He has got four or five lines out in different directions, and merrily spin the little fish to tempt the big ones to destruction. But the big ones are not there, or are sulky and will not feed. Your bank fisherman, too, has generally a ledger line in the water, depending from a rod stuck in the bank, as well as the line that is personally conducted. But it is too cold to linger long in the shade; even hardy Piscator has to put down his rod every now and ther, and to stamp about and flap his arms to keep up the circulation. The black timbers of the lock are hung with icicles, and yet the sunshine is powerful enough to make everything it reaches soft and squelchy. Beyond the lock there are still scattered groups of anglers upon the tow-path, and on the other side, where private rights prevail and trim lawns slope down to the water's edge, there are a few rods at work in a diffident sort of way. As Kingston is approached a serried rank of anglers appears upon the river bank, where there is a public promenade and where public gardens are coming into existence, skilfully arranged on what seems to have been a dumping ground for ashes and old rubbish. The Kingston waters seem to be well stocked with fish, and every now and then there is a thrill of excitement among the bystanders, as some lucky angler hauls forth a silvery dace or scaly roach from the placid stream. anglers who have secured places on the favoured strand have come to stay, no doubt, and are taking some light refreshment meanwhile, while jugs of hot tea and lices of cake obtained from neighbouring cottages known to the initiated, circulate freely among comrades and friends. day has brought them out for the first run of the season. How the machines are piled up outside the favourite rests, and what a run upon the repairing shops, for how many bolts have started and springs have cracked up after the winter's rest! There are punts, too, on the river above bridge, and sailing-boats are out flashing white in the sunshine. Canoes, too, and launches are coming out from their winter quarters, and fleets of little boats begin to dance once more on the waters. And if Piscator is enjoying in his own way almost his last appearance on the river this season, all the summer visitants are beginning to awake from their long slumbers. The shades of night are falling fast, as the chief detachment of fishermen returns to town. The "Maids of the Mist" are among them, their baskets have a weighty appearance, and there are rumours current of a portentous chub weighing at least three pounds twelve ounces, which is to be set up, or in other words stuffed, not for culinary purposes, but to be exhibited in the club-room for ever after as a trophy, and for the confusion of the rival "Mermaid" club, which made such a fuss over a fish half a pound lighter than ours. The Captain has not won a prize. "My word, there'll be ructions to-night," cries Simcox, gleefully. "Won't the pokers and tongs be flying about? I shan't go near them." And Simcox prudently makes for home with his basket of fish-about two pounds and a half, he says—not bad, considering the day. And that suggests a query. What becomes of all the coarse fish that is caught? Simcox doesn't know. But he throws out a hint. "The cats like 'em," he cries, as he shoulders his basket and disappears in the gloom of night. The THE LAWS OF HOWEL THE GOOD. IN TWO PARTS, PART II. After this it is a little bewildering to be in Kingston streets and hear the bells ringing all round, while people in their best are hurrying to church or chapel. What flights of cyclists now appear! The sunshine and brightness of the IT has been said that there is a good deal of human nature about most men; and what is true of mankind nowadays was doubtless quite as much a truth in the time of the tenth century, when these old laws were new. Self-preservation being the first law of human nature, and the good King Howel being, in his own selfestimation, the first person in the land, it is not surprising that, in framing his own laws, he took good care of Number One. Book the First, as we have seen in the last number, is well-nigh wholly the sheep to the husband, and the goats to devoted to the Court: the strictest orders the wife." In like manner the household being given regarding the King's officers, goods and chattels are divided, "all the and the measures to be taken for ensuring milking vessels, except one pail, go to the the King's safety from fire or other perils, wife; all the dishes, except one dish, go inclusive even of the danger of his catching to the wife; and those two go to the cold at dinner, or of his getting accidentally husband. The wife is to have the car and a tumble from his horse. the yoke to convey her furniture from the The Second Book deals chiefly with the house"; but the law leaves it doubtful laws concerning women, whence it may be if she is to return them. "The husband guessed that the good King was as gallant is to have all the drinking vessels;" the as he was good, and that his fair subjects wife having presumably to drink out of were ranked in his esteem as second only the pails. "The husband is to have the to himself. There are many quaint com- riddle; the wife is to have the small sieve." mands and curious instructions given in Here we are left in doubt which of them regard to them; and many singular di- had the best of it, for the riddle is one the rections are prescribed on their behalf. meaning of which is not easy to guess. Feminine fractures of fidelity are treated 'The clothes that are over them belong to with small mercy; and stern clauses are the wife; the clothes that are under them devoted to conjugal misdeeds. When belong to the husband, until he marries couples wish to separate, there are rigid again, and after he marries the clothes are rules providing for the wife's allowance; to be given up to the wife; and if another and in the case of slander, directions as to wife sleeps upon the clothes, let her pay evidence are given to the Court. Lest 'wyneb-worth'"-that is, face-worth-"to there be any doubt as to the meaning of the other." the law, the plainest of plain speaking is Seven years apparently was the usual employed throughout the book; and so term for married folk to live together; but far from the compiler indulging in fine that many a happy couple conceived the language, to modern ears it frequently may happy thought of an earlier disunion may sound a little coarse. Here and there, be guessed from the ninth clause. however, a metaphor is used, and a spade this it is provided that, if they separate is not precisely and plainly called a spade."before the seventh year," the wife is to It would seem that in King Howel's have her dower, and her "cowyll," and time the first thought of happy couples was her "argyvreu," or "paraphernalia," whatabout their separation. That the matter ever may be meant by that elastic phrase. was considered as of primary importance Seemingly, however, in cases of elopement, may be gathered from its taking such the couple could not separate before the precedence in the laws. The first clause seventh year; for the thirtieth clause of Book the Second provides that "if a provides that "if a man take a woman woman be given in marriage, she is to clandestinely, let her be, until the end of abide by her agweddi'"-that is, dower the seventh year, upon three steers whose -"unto the end of the seventh year, and horn and ear are of equal length." This, if there be three nights wanting of the to modern ears, may sound a little vague, seventh current year, and they separate, and in what manner the law was then let them share into two portions every- to let the lady "be upon" the animals is thing belonging to them." Probably the left an unsolved riddle to us. Perhaps sharing was a cause of much connubial cattle with an equal length of horn and dispute, for the majesty of the law con- ear were difficult to find, and doubtless descends to stoop to the minutest treatment the law somehow took advantage of their of the matter. Several distinct clauses rarity. are devoted to its details; the first declaring that "the wife is to share, the husband is to choose, of the things which the law shall not share between them." The difference between "sharing" and choosing" is left a little doubtful; for the law proceeds to give "the swine to the husband, and the sheep to the wife; if there be only one kind, they are to be shared, and if there be sheep and goats, 66 By The twelfth clause contains another puzzling provision, namely: "If by dying and living they separate, let the sick, aided by the confessor, share, and let the healthy choose." Probably the choice of the healthy was allied to that of Hobson; for, whatever share might be allotted to the sick, the good confessor very likely took good care to profit by it. That the Church then kept a watchful eye upon its wedded |