acters, I think that
those who live on a mountain can never be quite so petty and mean-minded
as the dwellers in the plain beneath; something in the majesty of those
peaks must surely draw them up, and lift their thoughts towards that
other world that is higher than ours.

The days were not half long enough for all our delightful projects. Mr.
Winstanley had fulfilled his promise of teaching me to fish, and, armed
with the light rod-and-line, I industriously and laboriously whipped the
stream; but I fear I was anything but a "compleat angler", for very few
of my contributions went to fill the baskets of silvery trout which the
boys seemed to catch so cleverly.

"I'm afraid a fisherman is something like a poet, 'born, not made'," I
sighed, as I watched Dick choose a fresh fly and secure a catch in the
very pool where I had tried for half an hour in vain.

"Oh, it's partly practice!" said Dick, "you'll get into it in time. It's
rather slow work, though, and I'm jolly savage myself, sometimes, when I
can't get a bite, and feel inclined to agree with Dr. Johnson that a
fisherman is 'a worm at one end, and a fool at the other'. That old chap
knew life! I'll tell you what; if the governor's willing, we'll get him
to take us over for a day to Craigdale, and we'll have a boat and try
some sea-fishing. I dare say you'll get on better with the flukes and
haddock."

Good-natured Mr. Winstanley proved to be more than willing, so one sunny
morning we packed ourselves into the phaeton and dog-cart, and started
off on the nine-mile drive to the little fishing-village which was our
nearest point on the sea-coast. Craigdale seemed to be a mere handful of
whitewashed cottages set in the midst of a sandy marsh, where hardy
sea-flowers were springing up and blooming on the wind-swept ridges, and
terns and sand-pipers were darting here and there at the edge of the
waves, in chase of some detached limpet or scuttling crab. We put up the
traps at a small inn called the "Mermaid Arms", the sign-board of which
was adorned with a most remarkable painting of a sea-maiden with fish's
tail, comb and looking-glass, all complete, ready no doubt to bewitch
too venturesome sailors to their doom. The stout, bustling landlady
readily agreed to provide us with the best she could muster at so short
a notice, and in a very brief time she had produced a smoking dish of
ham and eggs, which with brown bread and Cumberland cream cheese we
thought a fare not