312 THE RIVER. 



probable, the Ballyshannon water - fairies 

 had set their faces against the interloping 

 Belleeker ; or whatever might be the rea- 

 son, no exertion of skill, no exercise of 

 patience, no change of fly, would raise a 

 single fish from his stony couch at the 

 bottom. 



" Upon my word, Pat, this will never 

 do," said the Parson, handing the heavy 

 rod to his follower, and resting his aching 

 shoulders after an hour's un intermitted 

 whipping. " I am afraid we must fall back 

 on our own ground after all ; we shall have 

 nothing for our pains here, except the plea- 

 sure of having weathered on that Bally- 

 shannoner." 



" That's some comfort, anyhow," said Pat. 

 " But I think if your riverence will try the 

 Grass Guard and Johnstone's as we go up, 

 well turn the tail yet. His honour the 

 Barrister cannot fish them throws — he does 

 not cast a line long enough yet, nor ever 

 will, please God." 



il Yes, but Tommy Lightly does," said 

 the Parson ; i( and he will set him at work 

 rather than leave the fish for us." 



" We'll just try, your riverence ; and, by 



