ing down into the water where he pointed.

"Come here. Lie down flat, and slowly peep over the bank through that
grass. Go softly, or you'll frighten them off. Then look down."

I did as he told me, and as I looked down into the clear, deep water,
that looked almost black from its depth, I could see quite a shoal of
fish, with their sides barred with dark stripes, sailing slowly about
between me and the dead leaves and rotten branches which strewed the
bottom of the pool.

"See 'em?"

"Yes," I whispered; "perch, aren't they?"

"Why, I thought you knew nothing about fish."

"I've seen pictures of them in books," I said, "of course."

"Yes, perch, all but that black, soft-looking chap close to the bottom.
He's a tench. But come on, and let's get the rods."

He led the way to the boat-house, a green strip of coarse grass about
five feet wide leading to the rough building, and Mercer looked
longingly at the boat, which was half full of water.

"We'll try her some day," he said; "but she seems very leaky. Here we
are."

As he spoke, he took a couple of rough-looking, unjointed rods from
where they were laid across some pegs driven into the side of the
building just below the thatch eaves.

"All right," he said, examining the stout, strong silk lines twisted
lightly about them, and the hooks stuck in pieces of cork which were
bound on to the butts of the rods. "Now, then, come for the worms."

He leaned the rods up against the roof of the boat-house, and led me
into the open-sided building, where, as described by the keeper, we
found an old watering-pot half full of moss, and in this damp moss, and
below it, an abundance of fresh, lively-looking worms.

"All right. Now for some fish. This way. Take your rod, I'll carry
the pot. That's where we're going."

He pointed to where the pool narrowed, and ran up among the trees almost
to a point, where I could see some woodwork, and a post standing up in
the middle, with a series of holes pierced through it, and as we walked
round by the grassy margin which led to the spot,--

"There, that's the place," cried Mercer. "That's the penstock."

"And what's a penstock."

"Don't you see. They pull up that post, and poke a peg in one of those
holes, and that keeps it open, so as the water can run out down that
gully behind there through the wood. It's to empty the pond. There
used to be hundreds of years ago a great forge there, and the water
turned a whee