DISASTER 83 



fish, and all. The fish had fairly drowned each 

 other, and, by a curious coincidence, were passively 

 passing in the current at the time my legs 

 stemmed it. 



Originally I had what in Scotland is called a 

 poke or bag to carry my trouts in. This being 

 rather of a coarse appearance, I panted after a 

 basket. One of my schoolfellows had exactly the 

 thing ; and I bargained for it by giving in return 

 all my personal right in perpetuity to two young 

 hawks. Proud of my acquisition, I set out with 

 no small share of vanity, carrying my basket 

 through the whole length of a neighbouring village, 

 which was considerably out of the way. When I 

 arrived at the happy spot where my sport lay, I 

 was successful as usual. At length the declining 

 sun admonished me of some ten miles betwixt me 

 and home ; so I resolved only to take a few casts 

 in a dark and deep pool which was close at hand, 

 and then to bend my course homeward. There I 

 hooked a fine fish, which I was obliged to play for 

 some time, and then, after he was fairly tired, to 

 lift out with my hands, not having yet arrived at 

 the dignity of a landing net. In stooping low to 

 perform this process, the lid of my new pet basket, 

 which from want of experience I had omitted to 

 fasten, flew open, and two or three of my last- 

 killed fish dropped into the deep water immediately 

 before me. In suddenly reaching forward to secure 

 these, round came my basket, fish and all, over my 

 head, and fairly capsized me. With some difficulty, 

 and even risk of drowning, I got my head above 

 water, and my hand on the crown of a sharp rock. 



