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Mr. Cruncher beguiled the earlier watches of the night with solitary pipes, and did not start upon his excursion until nearly one o'clock.

Towards that small and ghostly hour, he rose up from his chair, took a key out of his pocket, opened a locked cupboard, and brought forth a sack, a crowbar of convenient size, a rope and chain, and other fishing tackle of that nature.

Disposing these articles about him in skilful manner, he bestowed a parting defiance on Mrs. Cruncher, extinguished the light, and went out.

Young Jerry, who had only made a feint of undressing when he went to bed, was not long after his father.

Under cover of the darkness he followed out of the room, followed down the stairs, followed down the court, followed out into the streets.

He was in no uneasiness concerning his getting into the house again, for it was full of lodgers, and the door stood ajar all night.

Impelled by a laudable ambition to study the art and mystery of his father's honest calling, Young Jerry, keeping as close to house fronts, walls, and doorways, as his eyes were close to one another, held his honoured parent in view.

The honoured parent steering Northward, had not gone far, when he was joined by another disciple of Izaak Walton, and the two trudged on together.

Within half an hour from the first starting, they were beyond the winking lamps, and the more than winking watchmen, and were out upon a lonely road.

Another fisherman was picked up here-and that so silently, that if Young Jerry had been superstitious, he might have supposed the second follower of the gentle craft to have, all of a sudden, split himself into two.

The three went on, and Young Jerry went on, until the three stopped under a bank overhanging the road.

Upon the top of the bank was a low brick wall, surmounted by an iron railing.

In the shadow of bank and wall the three turned out of the road, and up a blind lane, of which the wall-there, risen to some eight or ten feet high-formed one side.

Crouching down in a corner, peeping up the lane, the next object that Young Jerry saw, was the form of his honoured parent, pretty well defined against a watery and clouded moon, nimbly scaling an iron gate.

He was soon over, and then the second fisherman got over, and then the third.

They all dropped softly on the ground within the gate, and lay there a little-listening perhaps.

Then, they moved away on their hands and knees.

It was now Young Jerry's turn to approach the gate: which he did, holding his breath.

Crouching down again in a corner there, and looking in, he made out the three fishermen creeping through some rank grass! and all the gravestones in the churchyard-it was a large churchyard that they were in-looking on like ghosts in white, while the church tower itself looked on like the ghost of a monstrous giant.

They did not creep far, before they stopped and stood upright.

And then they began to fish.

They fished with a spade, at first.

Presently the honoured parent appeared to be adjusting some instrument like a great corkscrew.

Whatever tools they worked with, they worked hard, until the awful striking of the church clock so terrified Young Jerry, that he made off, with his hair as stiff as his father's.

But, his long-cherished desire to know more about these matters, not only stopped him in his running away, but lured him back again.

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