74 DAYS IN DOVE DALE 



Dove Holes, three monstrous caverns, which 

 may be regarded as the entrance to Dove 

 Dale from the north, and just here we 

 witnessed a curious instance of motherly 

 affection. 



We saw a rat swimming down the stream 

 with a young one nearly as big as herself 

 in her mouth. I fancy she had been giv- 

 ing her son a lesson in swimming. How 

 lovingly she carried him up the bank into 

 her hole ! 



The major now began in earnest. Here he 

 donned his wading-boots, which had been 

 brought up the Dale to meet us. 



It was now half-past seven, and, with the 

 exception of the castaway grayling, only one 

 fish had been taken. 



Piscator had long despaired of rivalling his 

 feat of the day before ; but he was not likely 

 to give in. The trout came into the basket 

 slowly, and at long intervals, as he toiled down 

 the river, now wading in the stream, and now 

 casting from rocky banks past Pickering Tor 

 and The Grey Mare's Nest past The Lion Rock 

 and that terrible cavern described in an earlier 

 letter and known as Reynard's Cave past The 



