instance of self-denial and devotion, and scramble up
to the bridge, and plunge down after him. Heel of boot gets entangled
in dress every third step,--fishing-line in tree-top every second;
progress consequently not so rapid as could be desired. Reach the
water at last. Step cautiously from rock to rock to the middle of the
stream,--balance on a pebble just large enough to plant both feet on,
and just firm enough to make it worth while to run the risk,--drop my
line into the spot designated,--a quiet, black little pool in the
rushing river,--see no fish, but have faith in Halicarnassus.

"Bite?" asks Halicarnassus, eagerly.

"Not yet," I answer, sweetly. Breathless expectation. Lips
compressed. Eyes fixed. Five minutes gone.

"Bite?" calls Halicarnassus, from down the river.

"Not yet," hopefully.

"Lower your line a little. I'll come in a minute." Line is lowered.
Arms begin to ache. Rod suddenly bobs down. Snatch it up. Only an
old stick. Splash it off contemptuously.

"Bite?" calls Halicarnassus from afar.

"No," faintly responds Marius, amid the ruins of Carthage.

"Perhaps he will by and by," suggests Halicarnassus, encouragingly.
Five minutes more. Arms breaking. Knees trembling. Pebble shaky.
Brain dizzy. Everything seems to be sailing down the stream. Tempted
to give up, but look at the empty basket, think of the expectant party
and the eight cod-fish, and possess my soul in patience.

"Bite?" comes the distant voice of Halicarnassus, disappearing by a
bend in the river.

"No!" I moan, trying to stand on one foot to rest the other, and ending
by standing on neither for the pebble quivers, convulses, and finally
rolls over and expires; and only a vigorous leap and a sudden
conversion of the fishing-rod into a balancing-pole save me from an
ignominious bath. Weary of the world, and lost to shame, I gather all
my remaining strength, wind the line about the rod, poise it on high,
hurl it out into the deepest and most unobstructed part of the stream,
climb up pugnis et calcibus on the back of an old boulder; coax,
threaten, cajole, and intimidate my wet boots to come off; dip my
handkerchief in the water, and fold it on my head, to keep from being
sunstruck; lie down on the rock, pull my hat over my face, and dream,
to the purling of the river, the singing of the birds, and the music of
the wind in the trees, (whether in the body I cannot tell, or whether
out of the body I cannot tel