I2O DOVE DALE REVISITED 



think, was mainly engaged in swearing at the 

 trout that would come at him, and at the 

 grayling that would not, and so his bag was 

 empty. 



The Parson, who is a good fisherman, went 

 away for his Sunday duties. The Major de- 

 parted, sadly bemoaning his bad luck, which, 

 however, was only common to all of us. The 

 Poet (I call him Poet, because I am unable 

 otherwise to classify him I have seen none of 

 his poetry, but he sings divinely) came here six 

 weeks ago a great invalid he left this day in 

 vigorous health. This was his first attempt at 

 fishing, which his doctor had advised him to 

 practise ; he proved to be such an apt pupil 

 of the Master that he left us an accomplished 

 angler. The Doctor, a young Irishman, six 

 feet two in his stockings, a fellow of infinite wit 

 and humour, left us this day with his young 

 wife, also an enthusiastic angler. 



This day I fished alone up the Dale. Our 

 hostess sent my lunch up to me by Jack, our 

 boy. He came mounted on a big white 

 donkey, and in front of him was Master three- 

 year-old Bobby; Miss i Daisy, a bright, dark- 

 eyed girl of ten, came with them. They found 



