r and louder the gushing of many waters all round it.

Leading the way immediately to a place beneath the falling stream, where
there was a deep, eddying pool, Mr. Garthwaite baited and threw in
his line before I had fixed the joints of my fishing-rod. This first
difficulty overcome, I involuntarily plunged into some excellent, but
rather embarrassing, sport with my line and hook. I caught every one
of my garments, from head to foot; I angled for my own clothes with
the dexterity and success of Izaak Walton himself. I caught my hat, my
jacket, my waistcoat, my trousers, my fingers, and my thumbs--some devil
possessed my hook; some more than eel-like vitality twirled and twisted
in every inch of my line. By the time my host arrived to assist me,
I had attached myself to my fishing-rod, apparently for life. All
difficulties yielded, however, to his patience and skill; my hook was
baited for me, and thrown in; my rod was put into my hand; my friend
went back to his place; and we began at last to angle in earnest.

We certainly caught a few fish (in _my_ case, I mean, of course, that
the fish caught themselves); but they were scanty in number and light
in weight. Whether it was the presence of the miller's foreman--a
gloomy personage, who stood staring disastrously upon us from a little
flower-garden on the opposite bank--that cast adverse influence over our
sport; or whether my want of faith and earnestness as an angler acted
retributively on my companion as well as myself, I know not; but it is
certain that he got almost as little reward for his skill as I got for
my patience. After nearly two hours of intense expectation on my part,
and intense angling on his, Mr. Garthwaite jerked his line out of the
water in a rage, and bade me follow him to another place, declaring that
the stream must have been netted by poachers in the night, who had taken
all the large fish away with them, and had thrown in the small ones
to grow until their next visit. We moved away, further down the bank,
leaving the imperturbable foreman still in the flower-garden, staring at
us speechlessly on our departure, exactly as he had already stared at us
on our approach.

"Stop a minute," said Mr. Garthwaite suddenly, after we had walked some
distance in silence by the side of the stream, "I have an idea. Now we
are out for a day's angling, we won't be balked. Instead of trying
the water here again, we will go where I know, by experience, that the
fi