80 ENCOUNTER WITH A DUCK. 



all, over my head, and fairly capsized me. With some 

 difficulty, and even risk of drowning, I got my head 

 above water, and my hand on the crown of a sharp rock. 

 There I stood, streaming and disconsolate, casting a wist- 

 ful look at the late bright inmates of my basket, which 

 were tilting down the weeds through the gullet into a 

 tremendous pool, vulgarly called Hell's Cauldron. Into 

 that same pool with the ominous name had I myself 

 very nearly passed, and thus had followed my hat, which 

 was coursing about in the eddy or wheel of this fearful 

 depth. Thus vanished before my eyes my whole day's 

 sport, for dead fish immediately sink ; and it was not 

 without some skilful fishing up that my hat and I re- 

 newed our acquaintance. I have before observed that 

 when I was quite an urchin I never wore a hat, or any . 

 covering over my hair ; but as I grew older I thought it 

 decorous to follow the fashion. 



At anothei time, whilst still a puer, and only pos- 

 sessed of one single bait-hook, to my utter confusion I 

 found that solitary hook had been swallowed by a duck, 

 which a mass of sedges under the bank had concealed 

 from my view. There we were, Mrs. Duck and I, 

 dashing, swashing, and swattering down the stream ; the 

 duck all the time declaring his sentiments by the ut- 

 terance of a fearful noise, and I endeavouring by every 

 means in my power to prevent my only hook from being 

 ravished from me by my feathered opponent. In the 

 meantime a group of lasses, who were washing clothes 

 at the river side, and were friendly to the bird, set upon 

 me, first with their tongues, of the use of which they 

 seemed to be in full possession, and latterly with their 



