64 NATUEE NEAR LONDON. 



limpid, bordered with sedge and willow and flags, and 

 overhung with branches. The strip of sward between 

 the two waters was certainly not more than twenty 

 yards ; there was no division, hedge, or railing, and 

 evidently no preservation, for the mouchers came and 

 washed their water-cress which they had gathered in 

 the ditches by the side hatch, and no one interfered 

 with them. 



There was no keeper or water bailiff, not even a 

 notice board. Policemen, on foot and mounted, passed 

 several times daily, and, like everybody else, paused 

 to see the sport, but said not a word. Clearly, there 

 was nothing whatever to prevent any of those present 

 from angling in the stream; yet they one and all, 

 without exception, fished in the pond. This seemed 

 to me a very remarkable fact. 



After a while I noticed another circumstance ; 

 nobody ever even looked into the stream or under 

 the arches of the bridge. No one spared a moment 

 from his float amid the scum of the pond, just 

 to stroll twenty paces and glance at the swift current. 

 It appeared from this that the pond had a reputa- 

 tion for fish, and the brook had not. Everybody who 

 had angled in the pond recommended his friends 

 to go and do likewise. There were fish in the 

 pond. 



So every fresh comer went and angled there, and 

 accepted the fact that there were fish. Thus the pond 

 obtained a traditionary reputation, which circulated 

 from lip to lip round about. I need not enlarge on 

 the analogy that exists in this respect between the 

 pond and various other things. 



