FRESH-WATER FISHES 213 



One often sees good anglers, with the best rods 

 and finest lines that are to be bought, go home with- 

 out a fish, and a little lad such as this one will get as 

 many as he cares to carry home in his little cow- 

 gown, and from the same brook. 



At the foot of a hill a little rill rises up ; through 

 the boggy moor it runs, and through copse and wood, 

 pasture and ploughed lands ; by farms and cottages ; 

 through more meadows fringed round with woods, 

 and then it forms the trout stream. The waters 

 from the hill that run the whole length of it have 

 worn a deep channel After heavy rains the water 

 from the slopes rushes down the stream like a mill 

 race. Its action has cut through all that opposed 

 it Great oak and ash trees line both sides, sprinkled 

 here and there with copse growth. At the more open 

 spots you find rustic bridges, bearing the cart-roads 

 from the meadows up to the old-fashioned farmhouses 

 which nestle amongst the trees. Cattle of all kinds are 

 dotted over the fresh green meadows, and come down 

 to drink at the shallows, where they stand knee-deep 

 under the boughs which reach from bank to bank, 

 when the sun is so hot that the lark squats by the 

 side of a withered tuft for shade. Kingfishers flash 

 up and down the stream like blue rockets. You can 

 hear one sounding his curious note before he comes 



