ii4 FLY FISHING NEAR SCARBOROUGH 



had tasted no food that day. He was not exactly 

 the style of boy to do one much credit as a gillie. 

 He wore a passable jacket, and I am inclined to 

 think he had a shirt on, for there was something 

 white sticking out of a big hole in his trousers not 

 far away from the tail of his jacket, and his shoes 

 were in a sad state of dilapidation ; but I judged 

 him, not by his rags, but by his pleasant blue eyes 

 and honest-looking countenance. Poor chap ! he 

 had a famished, hungry look. I handed him the 

 few little biscuits I happened to have in my pocket, 

 and I engaged him there and then as my body- 

 servant for the day. He put on my fishing-bag, 

 which covered up a good deal that was not sightly ; 

 he followed me, and turning to the left after cross- 

 ing the bridge, we pursued our way along the north 

 side of the stream. We met an old man, who said 

 that the long pool in front of us was full of tremend- 

 ously big chub but I did not want chub. He said 

 I had better cross the water at a sort of weir a little 

 higher up. I followed his advice confound him. 

 I found myself in an entanglement of scrub bushes, 

 burdocks, nettles, thorns, great tall things with 

 enormous leaves as high as my head I think they 

 are called wild rhubarb. Through this impenetrable 

 forest I had to scramble and steer my rod, which 

 was every moment catching in something or other 

 overhead, for a quarter of a mile, but scarcely a 

 glimpse could I get of the beck, and my man fol- 

 lowed me with bag and baggage, till we came to a 

 tall fence, which I got over somehow. His legs 



