A whole party was assembled there. Tagrag, who had come back; their Excellencies Mace and Punter, who were on a visit; and a number of horses walking up and down before the whole of the gentlemen of the hunt, who had come in after losing their fox! "Here's Squire Coxe!" shouted the grooms. Out rushed the servants, out poured the gents of the hunt, and on trotted poor me, digging into the donkey, and everybody dying with laughter at me. Just as I got up to the door, a horse came galloping up, and passed me; a man jumped down, and taking off a fantail-hat, came up, very gravely, to help me down. "Squire," says he, "how came you by that there hanimal? Jist git down, will you, and give it to its howner." "Rascal!" says I, "didn't you ride off on my horse?" "Was there ever sich ingratitude?" says the Spicy. "I found this year oss in a pond, I saves him from drowning, I brings him back to his master, and he calls me a rascal!" The grooms, the gents, the ladies in the balcony, my own servants, all set up a roar at this; and so would I, only I was so deucedly ashamed as not to be able to laugh just then. And so my first day's hunting ended. Tagrag and the rest declared I showed great pluck, and want me to try again; but "no," says I, "I _have_ been." [Illustration: APRIL.—The finishing touch ] 1840.] APRIL. [Illustration] CAUGHT AT CATCHING. [Sidenote: WEATHER. The Weather-Prophet, foiled, doth loudly vow, [Illustration: _Gentle_ Sport.] though wrong before, I'm sure I've hit it now;] To angle o' April! Shame and wicked deed, Debarr'd, like March, from Anglo-Saxon lad; Nor May _net_ profit must the fisher heed, For bad it is, and so it is for-bad! In these—the _fence_ months—'tis of_fence_: for men To fish among the spawn were cruel sign: _John Bull_ should leave his _Hook_, and fishers then Should be employed in quite another _line_. 'Twere graceless sure to fright the little _fry_ From family peace:—the Mayor, their quiet heeding The _die_ has cast that _then_ they should not _die_, Besides 'twould plainly be against _good breeding_! The Thames is the _Mayor's nest_—a bitter dish His Lordship gives its spoilers—name of fear; Why 'tis admitted, even by the fish, _Diet of Worms_ was never more severe! He _tackles_ all the fishers: rightly deems The sink of nets a sink of sin!—for boat, To ply the angler, _wherry_ wicked seems; He will not have a single float afloat! In _March_, upon the Thames, _march_ no man must; _April_ must heed his _reign_—Invade the spot, And out of water he'll kick up a dust; The year says _May_,—but he says you _may not_.