48 AN ANGLER'S LINES. 



watch and wait, it was a period of tense 

 excitement. The minutes passed, and the 

 grayling still held his own; but the time came 

 when he strove no longer, and inert and 

 beaten, showing now in all his grand pro- 

 portions, he floated nearer and nearer to where 

 I awaited his incoming. Already I pictured 

 him reposing in the outstretched net, but reality 

 followed hard upon imagination, for I had 

 reckoned without the small patch of weeds 

 which were hidden beneath the surface. Too 

 late I saw the danger. Entangled and motion- 

 less lay the fish, an inch outside the furthest 

 limits of the net handle. Despairing, 

 struggling, straining, I endeavoured to reach 

 him, but it was no good, the distance was 

 beyond my power, and as I tried, the hook 

 tore away and, with a feeble movement, the 

 grayling slowly sank out of sight. Our dis- 

 appointment was too great for mere words and, 

 heedless of the storm of soaking rain and 

 sleet that had come down upon us from off 

 the Wolds, we stood staring at each other in 



