148 



THE ANGLER'S SOUVENIR. 



ported by the tiniest floats. While we waited and 

 watched for the first bite, we drew in huge draughts 

 of the exhilarating morning air, with an additional 

 zest, because we knew that the day would turn 

 out scorching hot. All around was very quiet and 

 still, and we noticed what a different nature 

 characterises the stillness of the morning and that 

 of the night. In both, the silence is equally pro- 

 found away from the houses; but while at night 

 the quiet is in accordance with the dying day 

 and the darkness, in the morning it is in keen 

 contrast with the quivering brightness, the intoxi- 

 cating freshness, and the vigour which impels to 

 action. 



A float moves a little, then dips slightly, and 

 then lies still, as if no fish had touched the bait. 

 Patience ! he is at it still. Now it slides away 

 with quickening pace, and then dips under water, 

 towards a tree-root. Strike, and hold him by the 

 head ! Give him the butt, for he is in dangerous 

 proximity to the sunken branches. Now lead him 

 into the rushes. He is landed, a fine carp of two 

 pounds weight. 



So we went on, now one and then the other 

 hooking a fish, until ten fine carp lay on the bank. 

 The mists arose from the water, the pearls vanished 

 from the meadow-grasses, the insect hum grew 

 louder, and the thrushes sang in the poplars, the 

 sky brightened into its clearest blue and the fish 

 ceased biting. It was seven o'clock, and we had 



