A MORNING IDYLL. 17 



of trout to the little ailing maiden away up at 

 the farm to whom, in the caprice of appetite, 

 the success of my rod means a slender nourish- 

 ment or an all too willing fast. 



Into the sunlight there comes a sudden 

 flash of jdazzling blue, and the next moment 

 the greenheart top sways and bends 'neath the 

 weight of a kingfisher that rests but for an 

 instant, and is gone. By the old gnarled oak 

 the stream frets and circles sullenly against a 

 barrier of fallen branches and decaying leaves ; 

 then, creeping slyly round the ends, it races on 

 in rippling triumph. It bears away the un~ 

 shotted line and takes it swiftly along, now 

 under one bank, now under the other. The 

 hook fouls, comes free, barely in time to save 

 a catastrophe for the bulge of the line is 

 floating perilously near an outstretched snag, 

 and then continues its erratic course. An 

 uneasy feeling is growing upon me as to its 

 ultimate recovery, when three sharp tugs in 

 rapid succession are telegraphed up the line. 

 I tighten instinctively, then hastily reel in, for 



