I need only add that our old friend Jupiter Pluvius proved once again to be a kind friend to those who tempted the dangers of the foaming tide in Putney Reach.  In conclusion, it must be observed that the stroke was sometimes “short” and occasionally “long,” but the “slides” moved like things of life, and contributed greatly to the pleasure of a very enjoyable outing.

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DESTROYING THE SPIDER’S WEB;

OR, THE THIRTEENTH LABOUR OF HERSCHELLES.

“To Lion-Hearted Hercules,” the strong, Sounded the clarion of Homeric song.  “Alcides, forcefullest of all the brood Of men enforced with need of earthly food.” Punch will sing gallant Herschelles, than whom Who was more worthy of Alcmene’s womb Or Jovian parentage?  Behold him stand With lion-hide on loins, and club in hand!  Forceful and formidable to all foes, But fatal most especially to those Of Hydra presence and Stymphalian beak, Whose quarry is unseasoned youth, who seek By subtle snares the Infant’s steps to trip, And catch the Minor in their harpy grip.  To his Twelve Labours, against monsters grim, Who might have lived in safety but for him, To snare, to slay, to humbug, and to cozen, Herschelles, just to make a baker’s dozen, Adds a Thirteenth! 
                   A wily, wicked wight,
Dwelling in noxious nooks as dark as night, Beyond the radius of the housemaid’s broom, And thence dispensing dire disgrace and doom Long time our homes hath haunted.  Greedy Ghoul, As furtive of advance as fierce of soul, The Money-lending Spider is his name, And grim and gruesome was his little game.  Of swollen body, of protuberant beak, He knew that Youths were green, and Infants weak, And spun his web, invisible but strong, Where’er GRAY’s well-named “little triflers” throng, Who, verily unmindful of their doom, He watched from forth his grubby haunts of gloom, And strove by sinister device to lure, Till, ’midst his viscous mazes once secure, Them he might seize and suck. 
                              The Birds, the Boar,
The Lion, or the Bull, all whom before Great Herschelles had tackled, were not worse Than the Colossal Spider, Albion’s curse, The scourge of childish Wealth and youthful Rank, The Moloch of our Minors!  Fathers, thank Our new Alcides, who, with legal club, Could dare the web assault, the Spider drub!  Worse than Tarantula venom hath the bite Of this Conkiferous Ogre, which to fight Herschelles did adventure!  Thump!  Bang!  Whack!  The web is burst, the Spider’s on his back, All impotently spluttering poisonous spleen Let’s hope such monster may no more be seen.  And let us hail great Herschelles, whose skill The high-nosed horror hath availed to kill.  Blow, Infants, blow the pipe, and thump the tabor, In honour of the hero’s Thirteenth Labour!

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CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER.

VII.—­THE DUFFER WITH A SALMON-ROD.