A HOLIDAY IN DEVONSHIRE. 83 



miles of river in the teeth of the wind^and against strong 

 currents, was, I fancy, better appreciated than frequently 

 happens with my Lord Mayor's turtle^ and] champagne at 

 Egyptian Hall feasts. 



Then was the time to use Golden Returns in a meerschaum 

 service for dessert, and to take note of details. A hawk, 

 caring no more for me than a Guatemala commandant cares 

 for a British consul, swooped at a ringdove within pelting 

 distance. Kingfishers flew by like flashes of sapphire and 

 emerald; rabbits openly continued their nibbling in the 

 next clearing ; and the vermin adders, my little handmaid 

 said, were much too numerous rustled in the intervening 

 thickets. When a dragon fly pitched upon my ebony winch 

 and crawled a few inches on a tour of inspection up my line, 

 there was no more to be said it was wonder-land pure and 

 simple. 



But musing is one thing and trout-fishing another. 

 Standing out in the Tamar, a bit of shoal water landwards 

 revealed to me all its treasures, and I recalled the minute 

 description of Keats : 



" Where swarms of minnows show their little heads, 

 Staying their wavy bodies 'gainst the streams, 

 To taste the luxury of summer beams 

 Tempered with coolness. How they ever wrestle 

 With their own fresh delight and ever nestle 

 Their silver bellies on the pebbly sand ! 

 If you but scantily hold out the hand 

 That very instant will not one remain, 

 But turn your eye and there they are again." 



From the minnows, to be frank, I had turned my eye 

 upon a gleaming kingfisher, which fluttered through the 

 brambles and ferns, and poised himself on a bough over- 



G 2 



