that you'd have a care and hold Merrylegs in. He's almost taking our breath
away. Such a speed is undignified, and bad for the digestion."

It was true that the fat pony was in amazing spirits that morning. Shops
and houses were passed with exhilarating speed. To us little fellows, who
always walked with our governess, when we went abroad, it was intoxicating.

Soon the town was left behind and we were bowling along a country road past
a field where boys were flying a kite, its long tail making sinuous curves
against the turquoise sky. The air was sweet with the fresh May showers;
and the swift roll of wheels was an inspiring accompaniment to our chatter.

Further along lay a tranquil pond in a common, its surface stirred by a
tiny boat with white sails. An old, white-bearded man in a smock frock was
teaching his grandsons to sail the boat. It must be jolly, we thought, to
have a nice old grandfather to play with one.

At last we passed a vine-embowered inn, set among apple trees in bloom. It
was "The Sleepy Angler" and the Bishop said that the river curved just
beyond it.

We gave a shout of joy as we caught the glint of it; a shout that might
well have been a warning to any lurking trout. Angel and I scarcely waited
for the pony to draw up beneath the trees before we tumbled out of the
trap; and the Bishop, grasping the eager Seraph by the wrist, swung him to
the ground after us.

We felt very small and light, and almost fairy-like, as we ran here and
thither over the lush grass, studded with spring flowers. Our sensitive
nostrils were greeted by enticing new odors that seemed to be pressed from
the springy sod of our scampering feet. The Seraph still clutched the
treacle tin, and Charles Augustus must have had a bad quarter hour of it.

The stream, which was a sharp, clear one, sped through flowery meadows,
where geese were grazing as soberly as cows. An old orchard enfolded it, at
last, scattering pink petals on its flowing cloud-flecked surface, and
drawing new life from its freshness.

Harry made the pony comfortable and lit his pipe, and the Bishop got ready
his tackle, while the three of us clustered about him, filled with wonder
and delight to see the book of many coloured flies, and all the intricacies
of preparing the rod and bait. Angel and I were equipped with proper rods
baited with greenish May-flies, and The Seraph got a willow wand and line
at the end of which dangled an active grasshopper.

"Yo