A SUMMER'S DAY. 355 



delights of piscatorial and culinary nature in the shape of 

 huge eels. After thunderstorms, and when the night is 

 dark, for your eel is a fastidious fish in the matter of moon- 

 light, the eels will leave their retirement, and will be swept 

 down the stream through the open flood-gates upon the 

 grating, and will thence wriggle into the eel-tank, placed so 

 conveniently for their reception. Thence will they be 

 transferred to the presiding genius of the kitchen, who will 

 serve them up in fashions various and diverse, simple and 

 complicated, so as to suit the tastes of participators in the 

 feast. But even now, if your taste should desire it, you may 

 obtain a dish of eels. You may fish for eels in the mill-pond, 

 provided you have a tangled mass of worms writhing to- 

 gether on the end of a string, and below a small bunch of 

 worsted. The fishes, as every one knows, are rapacious, 

 and as a juvenile friend sits on the stone ledge close by the 

 mill, you may see him now and then pull up his finny prey, 

 entangled by the mouth and gills in the worsted of his line. 

 Eel-sniggling is another favourite pastime with our young 

 friend. Then you may see him pushing his needle and lob- 

 worm into the mud, probing for eels, and when the bait has 

 been swallowed and the line drawn back, the needle comes 

 to lie athwart the mouth or throat of the fish, which is thus 

 dragged ashore. Further down the river you will see other 

 juveniles setting their lines for these " greedy fishes " it was 

 old Izaak that named them thus and further on in the 

 season, and in flat estuary lands near the sea, they will spear 

 these dainty fishes, and impale them by hundreds, to whet 

 the palates of the dwellers in towns. 



The sun has reached his height some hours ago, and 

 now we feel the coolness of approaching evening stealing 

 around. The intense heat has passed away, but still leaves 

 its traces behind in the grateful warmth that will soon be 

 dispersed by the chill of the night. You say you are not 

 wearied of our river. Very good : come, then, and punt with 

 me for a mile or two down-stream to the Thames, down a 

 water-avenue, which winds so frequently that the really near 



