DISCIPULA. Well, as you will, master; though really I don't see any occasion for all this hurry. Look at that fish! He rose almost to the surface after my hook, and yet wouldn't take it. Oh, my poor fly! my poor bait! See it, master! All faded and worn and torn, no painting or patching can renew its comeliness! And there sticks out the hook, plain to view; a blind fish might see it! Oh, my poor fly, that couldn't conceal the hook any longer! Mr. Piscator, lend me your knife, while I cut the bait from the line, rags, paint, iron and all, and throw it back into the water, thus. Now then, little fish! silly fish! come all of you, and see what has befooled you! What some of your tribe have swallowed because they thought it was good, and some because they were careless, and others because they were hungry and must have something! What many of ye have taken in, and more have nibbled at, and all have gazed at, and admired and longed for! Oh, rare sport have ye made me, foolish things! And longer would I have played with you, but the evening comes on, and I must bid you a happy farewell. So we are under way again, are we? PISCATOR. We are again under way; and I have hope of reaching home before yonder cloud comes over us. And trust me, when it does come, it will bring more wind with it. DISCIPULA. Once more on the open bosom of the lake! How the little black angry waves dance up one after another, and roll past us toward the northern shore. And see that dim hill at the other extremity of the pond, how gigantic and broken it looks. Oh, Mr. Piscator, let's go and see it! let's go and see it! And those high perpendicular rocks, that stand out so boldly. Yes, yes, put up the helm! we'll go and see how they look in the twilight. PISCATOR. But my dear child, it will take an hour and a half longer to go round by the rocks, and before that time, I fear the storm will increase. DISCIPULA. Oh, never fear the storm. I'll risk it! And when we get up there, we can take a short cut across to our port; so put up the helm!--good Mr. Piscator, kind Mr. Piscator! do let us run up to the hill! I can assure you there is no danger. PISCATOR. I cannot well deny any thing that you ask of me; but much I doubt, Mr. ---- DISCIPULA. Nay, nay, doubt nothing. We shall get home safe, trust me for that. And that cloud, that you are so fearful of, is not coming over us, at all; it is coming down on the other shore of the lake. Please, Mr. Pilot, to keep in a little nearer the land, or we shall pass the rocks so far out, that we shall not be able to see them with distinctness. PISCATOR. A wilful woman must even have her own way. My child! you will catch your death with cold, to take off your bonnet so! DISCIPULA. I'm not afraid of it; I want to feel the air. PISCATOR. And where are you going now? DISCIPULA. Going to sit down in the bow of the boat. This view is much finer! Oh, this is grand!