8o BY MEADOW AND STREAM. 



of the lake, marked by white posts on each side, we 

 put up our spinners and took to our flies as in duty 

 bound but first we made our way to an old ruined 

 chapel which stands on the very edge of the lake, and 

 only just failed of being swallowed up when the great 

 flood came. Just below us as we row up to this old 

 chapel lie, a hundred feet deep, the remains of the 

 church, the chapel, the "Powys Arms," and the 

 village of Llanwddyn. This chapel now serves as a 

 resting-place for anglers piscatoribus sacrum and 

 here we rested and partook of our luncheon. 



Then we proceeded to Eunant Bay, and fished 

 from the shore, but with small success, for time and 

 season are against us. Last month we should have 

 done wonders, and so should we do next month if we 

 could but stay, but this month the attempt is useless 

 thus are we comforted by Tom the sad poet, and 

 David the desponding. The most interesting thing 

 that happened to us, and it was really a novel and a 

 pretty sight, was Rose's encounter with the sandpipers 

 on the Eunant beach, which shall be given in her 

 own words. 



"As I was casting my flies from the beach of 

 Eunant, a pretty sandpiper flew backwards and 

 forwards, scolding around me. I was not aware that 

 the little mother bird was speaking to me, but it 

 gradually dawned upon me that I was the object of 

 her displeasure, that her maternal instincts were 

 aroused, and that somehow I was keeping her from 

 her nest. Still the trout were rising, and all my 

 thought was, ' Silly bird, go to your home, and leave 

 me a chance for yonder two-pounder,' but she wouldn't 



