DUCK-SHOOTING. 375 



for it was necessary to turn into the field from the 

 main road— I walked down to the bank and jumped 

 into a boat. Unfortunately, it was chained to a 

 staple and padlocked; the inn-keeper had forgotten 

 to give me the key. They were all the same but 

 one, lying on the shore and turned bottom up, that 

 did not seem to be sound. No time, however, was 

 to be lost ; the streaks in the east were beginning 

 to turn red — an indication that the sun was rising — 

 and the hour for fishing would soon be over. I 

 launched the boat, such as it was, and pushed off*. 



" Casting the fly is difficult, but casting thirteen 

 flies is almost impossible. The boat was leaky ; the 

 fish did not rise, and the water did, I bailed as 

 well as I could with one hand, and fished with the 

 other, till at last, almost exhausted, I saw the sun 

 rise. As a desperate resource, however, the bait- 

 box came into play. I removed the flies and substi- 

 tuted a hook and worm ; but while thus employed, 

 and unable to bail, the water gained on me ra[)idly. 

 Hardly had the bait touched the water before a fine 

 fish seized it. I tried my best to pull him out, but 

 he would not come — the rod was such a miserable, 

 weak affair that it bent like a switch. The trout 

 swam about in every direction, and tiied to get 

 under stumps and weeds and to break my line ; but 

 I held him fast and reeled in — for my friends had 

 explained to me what the reel was for — and was 

 about to lay down my rod and fish him out with 

 the landing-net, when — the boat sank.'' 



Chorus — " Could you swim ? '' 



