The stickleback floundered about the boat, pricking and snapping until he was quite out of breath. Then he jumped back into the water. And a shoal of other little fishes put their heads out, and laughed at Mr. Jeremy Fisher. And while Mr. Jeremy sat disconsolately on the edge of his boat--sucking his sore fingers and peering down into the water--a _much_ worse thing happened; a really _frightful_ thing it would have been, if Mr. Jeremy had not been wearing a macintosh! A great big enormous trout came up--ker-pflop-p-p-p! with a splash--and it seized Mr. Jeremy with a snap, "Ow! Ow! Ow!"--and then it turned and dived down to the bottom of the pond! But the trout was so displeased with the taste of the macintosh, that in less than half a minute it spat him out again; and the only thing it swallowed was Mr. Jeremy's goloshes. Mr. Jeremy bounced up to the surface of the water, like a cork and the bubbles out of a soda water bottle; and he swam with all his might to the edge of the pond. He scrambled out on the first bank he came to, and he hopped home across the meadow with his macintosh all in tatters. "What a mercy that was not a pike!" said Mr. Jeremy Fisher. "I have lost my rod and basket; but it does not much matter, for I am sure I should never have dared to go fishing again!" He put some sticking plaster on his fingers, and his friends both came to dinner. He could not offer them fish, but he had something else in his larder. Sir Isaac Newton wore his black and gold waistcoat, And Mr. Alderman Ptolemy Tortoise brought a salad with him in a string bag. And instead of a nice dish of minnows--they had a roasted grasshopper with lady-bird sauce; which frogs consider a beautiful treat; but _I_ think it must have been nasty! THE END