seemed heavy as I held it.

I had brought with me some fine old brandy and I urged him to take a drop. 'Ah! that's proper,' he muttered, 'warmth and nourishment. That be wery kind on yer, Master Charles, that's something like, that be.' Certainly, it revived the old man, for his eyes shone again, and we began to talk of years ago. I looked out of the little window on to the gray waters of the broad, and then I said 'Do you remember when the two jack came plump through that window on to Mrs. Pikey in bed?'

In a moment, strength returned to the old man. He raised himself on his elbow, his right hand shot out, and his eyes for a second flashed in the manner which used to frighten me as a boy. Shaking a finger at me, he exclaimed 'Well, there, I allus knew that wor you and Master Hugh- young warmens!' A smile illuminated his features, and a chuckle came from him which seemed to start somewhere near his feet and to shake his body all over for a moment or two he could not speak and then in a weaker voice he uttered this: 'And as my poor old 'oman wor getten out o' bed, one o' them jack nipped her on ter rump,' and he lay back laughing, till I thought he would choke. When I left him, he was still chuckling and ejaculating: 'Ter think on it, nipped her, it did, Gawd bless yer, Master Charles, yer ha' given me something ter think on, yer ha', I'll die laughing about that 'ere.' And I think he did, for by nightfall Pikey was at rest.

But this is a digression. I believe it was the winter of 1890-1891, a winter of iron frosts and deep snow, a winter which lasted from November to March with the broad laid solid for weeks and weeks, with only a channel-way opening with the tide, when we, as Hugh put it, 'fairly housed Mrs. Pikey in.' I

to London and had expended the last of our Christmas boxes in gold-fish for pike bait, for we had heard that the man who had hired the Rushworth shootings and fishings had missed the largest pike seen on the broad for years -its weight was put at twenty-five pounds. He had bungled the landing, had got it under his boat instead of into it, and the fish had broken away. We set our mind on that pike and meant having it.

The tenant, we heard, had gone away and it was doubtful if he would fish again that winter. I must say we tried fair means first; over to Pikey's we went. The first person we met on the quay was Mrs. Pikey, and our hearts sank, for she was wearing one of Pikey's brown velveteen coats, and we knew what that meant: Pikey was laid up and Mrs. Pikey was on duty.

'Where's Pikey?' we inquired.

'Ill indoors with the screwmatics. What do you want along o' he?' she asked, suspiciously.

'Oh, nothing, we just thought we should like to see him, that's all,' we replied, evasively.

'And what in the name o' goodness for? Yer ain't so partial o' seeing him - 'cept ter run away from him. Yer knows I allus dew ha' my suspicions on yer. Yer ain't up ter no gude wanting ter see he, I'll warrant. Been adoing something yer should n't- lestways yer be agoing tew.'

'Oh, no, Mrs. Pikey,' and then I took my courage in both hands. 'We were only wondering if we might have the key of the big broad and try for that big fish, now that the gentleman has gone away.'

'Lawk-a-mussy me! what next? Well, yer can save yer breath o' asken the old chap. Whilst he be laid by I be dewen the keeperen, and I 'on't ha' yer nigh the broad. Our instructions

is ter keep the waters quiet and I bain't going ter ha' a parcel o' boys trouncing about in them. The key o' the big broad, indeed, tain't likely!'

This was a damper. However we persisted and marched into the cottage with the old woman at our heels. We again made our request to the old man who, with one leg up on a stool, was seated by the fire. Pikey was always more tractable when laid up, and we felt that had it not been for Mrs. Pikey's voluble objections he might have granted our request. He shook his head: ""T is unsarten if the gentleman be comen back; that mollified him considerable losen' that great owd fish. He may ha' a mind ter try for him again. He make a poor hand on it, he dew, but there't is, I can't grant yer no permission.'

'So there ter be, Master Hugh, now yer knows, and don't let me catch yer nigh the broad.' Thus did Mrs. Pikey stay all further discussion. Hugh's eyes were wandering round the room and there, on a nail, temptingly hung the key of the padlocked chains which kept all would-be sportsmen out of the big broad.

We left with hopes that Mr. Pikey would soon be restored to health and the promise to bring some illustrated papers when we came again. 'What are you going to do?' I asked when we were some distance from Mrs. Pikey who had followed us out of the cottage, and Hugh answered: "Try and bag that key to-morrow.'

for while I turned over the pictures for Pikey's edification, Hugh with his back to the wall dexterously exchanged keys and not even Mrs. Pikey, blowing up her fire, had any suspicions. It was late in the evening and snowing hard when we left the cottage. There was promise of a great blizzard that night, and we gloated inwardly at the thought of a nice drift against the door to fix in our enemy to-morrow morning and keep her occupied for a bit. All we needed was just one extra hour in which to bag our fish before the keeper's wife did her early patrol.

The snow of the morning had been carefully swept back by Mrs. Pikey and it lay, heaped up, on either side of the cobbled path from gate to door. But now the blizzard meant business, and as we hung about the cottage for half an hour, we watched it coming in clouds as fine as flour across the broad, making white eyebrows of the eaves of Pikey's cottage, and the path was again covered, and there was a perceptible drift against the door.

'What we want to do is to help that drift; let's see if we can get into the maltings and borrow shovels,' Hugh remarked, and we found two wooden ones, good for a silent job, we thought. It was nearly dark now and we had the whole quay to ourselves, and to the heaps of snow we plied our malt shovels so that soon there was a pile against the door as high as the lintel. 'With luck,' said Hugh, as we looked with pride on the finished job, ‘and if the

"There's an old key at home, the very image of it only it won't open the lock. While you show him the papers I'll exchange it. They'll never know, and Mrs. Pikey won't be rowing on the big broad this weather, I bet.' To cut a long story short, it is sufficient to say that the plan succeeded,

'It's doing that now,' I replied, noticing that our work was being beautifully levelled and covered by a fresh gust of eddies which whirled the snow along the ground and on to our heapedup door. Re-placing the shovels, we walked home by the road, a painful

tramp through drifts that tried even our young legs.

By the early morning, the blizzard had spent itself and the sky was clear and bright, showing the deepest fall of snow of all that hard winter.

It was only just daybreak when with the aid of the key we took our boat through the channel entrance to the broad. We had pumped Pikey sufficiently to know the whereabouts of the haunt of the large fish, which had so ignominiously broken up the London gentleman. The water was still open enough to leave a passage for our boat, and it looked black against the surrounding ice.

For one hour would we fish. The drift against Pikey's door would occupy his wife all that time, we knew, and if we could n't hook the beggar by then -well, he was n't feeding and we could give up the venture. So the best and largest gold fish in our bait can was cast over the side, and we watched it swim away. In a moment there was a swirl and a splash and we, who had been arranging for an hour's fishing, found that we were into our prize in the first minute. Hugh slacked off the line: 'Let him take it well down him,' he whispered. 'I shan't strike yet.' The excitement of those moments of waiting! The knocking of the ripples against the boat was the counterpart to the beating of our hearts as we watched the line being taken out and torn away from the reel. 'Now,' said Hugh, and he struck; for a second it was as if his hook were into a log, then the rod bent and he had to steady himself in the boat. 'He is on,' he exclaimed ecstatically; 'my word! he is pulling.' First this way, and then that, went the line and then down into the depths, straight as an arrow. 'Keep him on the move, don't let him weed up, whatever you do,' I cried.

Ν

‘After all, he's not such a very b one,' said Hugh, giving him his quiet with the butt end of the gaff. 'N over fourteen pounds, I bet, and tl man said he was over twenty; still l was worth coming for.' He was, in fac the largest fish we had ever landed, ar we were able to make sure he was th fish we wanted, for his lip showed th he had been recently hooked. We d cided after this to abandon sport, fo we knew that as soon as she was ab Mrs. Pikey would be on the broad i her boat, looking round. As silently we had come, we returned through th chains, carefully locking them, and i a convenient reed bush placed our fish

'Pretty morning's work, neatl done,' was the thought of us both. J only remained to call on Pikey and ex change the keys, and all would be wel Through the still open channel of th little broad we rowed and, landing made our way to Pikey's cottage. Th sight that met us filled us with speech less amazement.

There was a solid wall of snow from just under the eaves, stretching lik the side of a mountain to the front gat

last night, what a drift in front of your front door,' and Hugh added 'I never saw anything like it.'

'No, nor yet no one else, and tain't altogether the hand o' the Almighty, I don't reckon,' ejaculated Mrs. Pikey.

We ignored the remark and turned to the keeper: 'We'll get some shovels, Pikey, and 'll soon shift this; you see what willing hands can do in about ten minutes.'

"Thank you wery much,' he began, but from the adjacent window Mrs. Pikey's voice interrupted: "Yes, the same willen hands as helped put it there can take it away again, I reckon.'

'Yer mus n't pay no regards ter what she say, she be naturally a little upset over this ere wisitation,' spoke Pikey. 'She could n't get out ter ha' a look round this mornen, me being laid up and all, and I could n't clear the owd doorway, but if yer'd kindly lend a hand, for that there boy Albert he don't kind o' make no hand on it at all.'

'Certainly, Pikey, we'll borrow some malt shovels and we'll soon dig you out. Lucky we came over with some more picture papers for you,' and so saying we fetched the shovels and started work. The job took longer than we anticipated, for Mrs. Pikey was exacting in her demands:

'Dew yer take it out o' the garden gate and hull it onter quay. I don't want all the slush apouren inter my house when the thaw come. Dew yer hull it over fence, I say.'

We hulled it, and very soon we had to take off our coats, for the drift was solid and the work heavy.

The last word was always with Mrs. Pikey: "There be fules and fules, big and little, in the world. If them tew did n't have a hand in this there drift my suspicions be wholly wrong uns and I never knowed 'em fail yet not as regards them young war

men. They wor up ter some o' their pranks, I knows. The Almighty don't half bury up housen in snow drifts, tain't likely. And what's more,' and here her voice rose shrill and carried across the quay, 'if the gentleman don't catch that 'ere big pike I shall put tew and tew together and know the reason why.'

Only the other day Hugh and I were fishing for pike in those same waters. In my pocket was a letter which ran thus:

By all means have a day's fishing or a week if you like. I will instruct my keeper to wait on you and to do all he can to ensure good sport. If you want lunch, or tea, or a drink, come up to the Hall. I shall be delighted to see you.

As we passed through the chains, Hugh examined the key. 'It's the same,' he said. 'I remember the little nick at the end of it,' and he passed it back to the keeper with a sigh. We had excellent sport, several fish up to ten pounds. 'But, somehow,' said my companion, putting on the bait, 'fishing is not nearly as exciting as it used to be when we were boys. It's not half the fun being given permission to fish.'

Later, he remarked: 'If I get into a really good one, I think I shall walk over with it to Panxworth where Mrs. Pikey is laid to rest.'

'What on earth for?' I asked.

'I'll make a wreath of it, curl it like they do whiting, and lay it on her grave.'

'And do you think her spirit would appreciate the act?' I asked.

'I wonder,' said Hugh, thoughtfully. 'I'm afraid not,' he added presently, 'for though I should do it with all reverence and in love of her, I fear even such an act would once more raise her suspicions.'

IF the autumn ended

Ere the birds flew southward,

If in the cold with weary throats
They vainly strove to sing,
Winter would be eternal;
Leaf and bush and blossom
Would never once more riot
In the spring.

If remembrance ended

When life and love are gathered,
If the world were not living
Long after one is gone,
Song would not ring, nor sorrow
Stand at the door in evening;
Life would vanish and slacken,
Men would be changed to stone.
But there will be autumn's bounty
Dropping upon our weariness,
There will be hopes unspoken
And joys to haunt us still;
There will be dawn and sunset
Though we have cast the world away,
And the leaves dancing

Over the hill.

BY J. D. C. PELLOW

THIS is the night,

And no stars shine.
Do I need their light
When my love is mine?
The rain falls,

But I care nought.
My heart to me calls:

We have found that we sought.

We have found a gate

That opens out

From the tower of Fate And the walls of Doubt.

Mine eyes shine,

And my heart stirs, For my love is mine, And I am hers.

And I walk on light

And drunken feet, So fair is the night,

The air so sweet.

O Sun, down under

The sea's deep ways, For this great wonder I give thee praise.

MORNING BREATH

BY GEORGE RESTON MALLOCH ·

THE king of night has left his throne.
And dropt his pearls of dew;
A fallen rainbow lies the dawn,

That he from heaven did woo.

Now all around the cocks crow loud.
The air is cold and clear:
No man has yet to labor bowed,

Or creased his brow with fear.

How careless and how rich is life!

How bright the meadows gleam, Before dark duty sets her knife Against the stems of dream.