I Go 



THE ANGLER'S SOUVENIR. 



best of days for carp-fishing, but we started, driving 

 to the town, and then stoutty facing the five-mile 

 walk up-hill to the pool. Over meadow, through 

 brake, through brier, over streams, and up crags, 

 we pushed our way, passing well-remembered spots 

 which had known no change, and brought back to 

 us scenes of our happy boyhood with startling 

 clearness. The jay flew chattering through the 

 wood as of old, the pheasant flustered, and the 

 rabbit scuttled. On the same bank grew the same 

 thick growth of Blechnum ferns, the redstart built 

 in the same hole of the grey stone wall, and every- 

 thing was so fresh and beautiful with the old fresh- 

 ness and beauty, that we began to believe that we 

 also had not changed ; and by the time we reached 

 the lovely pool on the hill-top, we were prepared 

 to enjoy ourselves with the old keenness, and it 

 seemed just as if it were a Saturday half -holiday 

 years ago. 



There were three of us the writer, his young 

 brother Herbert, and one whom we will call the 

 Senior full of quips and cranks and merry jests, 

 complaining loudly of the steepness and difficulty 

 of the way, and stopping very often to gather the 

 wild strawberries which grew in remarkable pro- 

 fusion all the way, peeping with timid blushes from 

 their sheltering, half-concealing leaves. Herbert 

 was but seventeen a tall, pleasant lad, clever and 

 thoughtful beyond his years, and with a most mad 

 propensity for punning; and the worst of it was 



