DAYS IN DOVE DALE 33 



of these little cataracts that the hopes of the 

 experienced angler lie : here, if anywhere, will 

 you catch your wary trout. 



It was here, in one of these musical swirls, 

 that I, the youngest disciple, hooked and landed 

 my first trout. Ah ! the excitement of that 

 happy moment, when to my utter astonishment 

 I felt a heavy tug at my rod ! " Pooh ! another 

 weed," I cried. 



But it. moves it dashes down the stream 

 it dashes up again to the cascade it shows now 

 and again in the frothing water a lovely pink 

 and yellow belly. 



It is not a weed, it is a splendid trout ! Shade 

 of Izaak ! what shall I do ? How am I to 

 keep hold of him ? He dashes away here and 

 there, now under the rock, now away off, and 

 for a second or two he lies under some thick 

 flowering weeds, then off again ! What ought 

 I to do? 



All my theoretical lessons have gone out of 

 my head except this solitary one, " Keep the 

 point of your rod up.' 7 I kept it up. I 

 gradually wound up, but let out again as my 

 fish displayed a disposition to come in or go 

 away. 



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