A LONDON TROUT. 75 



Sometimes the shadow of the beech came as far as 

 his haunts, that was early in the morning, and for 

 the rest of the day the bridge itself cast a shadow. 

 The other parapet faces the south, and looking down 

 from it the bottom of the brook is generally visible, 

 because the light is so strong. At the bottom a green 

 plant may be seen waving to and fro in summer as 

 the current sways it. It is not a weed or flag, but a 

 plant with pale green leaves, and looks as if it had 

 come there by some chance; this is the water- 

 parsnip. 



By the shore on this, the sunny side of the bridge, 

 a few forget-me-nots grow in their season, water crow's- 

 foot flowers, flags lie along the surface and slowly 

 swing from side to side like a boat at anchor. The 

 breeze brings a ripple, and the sunlight sparkles on 

 it; the light reflected dances up the piers of the 

 bridge. Those that pass along the road are naturally 

 drawn to this bright parapet where the brook winds 

 Tbrimming full through green meadows. You can see 

 right to the bottom ; you can see where the rush of 

 the water has scooped out a deeper channel under the 

 arches, but look as long as you like there are no fish. 



The trout I watched so long, and with such pleasure, 

 was always on the other side, at the tail of the arch, 

 waiting for whatever might come through to him. 

 There in perpetual shadow he lay in wait, a little at 

 the side of the arch, scarcely ever varying his position 

 except to dart a yard up under the bridge to seize 

 anything he fancied, and drifting out again to bring 

 up at his anchorage. If people looked over the 

 parapet that side they did not see him ; they could 



