THE ANGLERS SOUVENIR. 



icy 



1 1 



thinks he must have some merit in himself to 

 evoke such heartiness from others. 



Dinner is over, but the miller has some capital 

 port, which it would be a shame to leave untasted, 

 and he likes a chat with a guest from the town. 

 Then cigars, or, more fitted to the time and place, 

 long churchwardens, are produced ; and the som- 

 nolent effect of the soothing weed disinclines us to 

 exertion. Hence it is that the afternoon slips 

 rapidly away, and we are in no hurry to resume 

 our fishing. At last, however, the spell is broken. 

 From one of the windows the long stretch of dead 

 water above the weir is visible. It is a famous 

 place for trout. On hot days you can see great 

 fellows of three and four pounds weight, lazily 

 floating about in the clear water. No angler leaves 

 the mill without trying to catch one, but most 

 anglers leave it without having caught one. The 

 banks are steep and thickly wooded, and fly-fishing 

 is impossible. The miller will not allow worms to 

 be used there. These big fish are his pets, and he 

 chuckles at the ineffectual attempts of anglers to 

 throw a fly over the spotted beauties, or, having 

 succeeded in throwing a fly, to induce them to 

 take it. 



Now, about fifty yards above the weir, just 

 under an alder bush, a big fish has been rising at 

 intervals of a few minutes for the last hour. An 

 angler's patience can stand such a sight no longer, 

 and we knock the ashes out of our pipe, mark it in 



