THE CURVED MEADOW. 251 



held good and borne the weight of the fortunate 

 angler, while plucking at his garment, who 

 expects a crash and a tumble each time he has 

 laboriously climbed over; until in his mind the 

 fence has seemed to grow more secure each 

 succeeding summer. 



And now, fifty feet below, the vista of the 

 curved meadow brings back the same feelings 

 of absolute enjoyment, of journeys ending in 

 lovers meeting that it did on the first evening 

 you discovered it. Looking across the river 

 you may see a fisherman pass by, like the 

 Levite, on the other side; and you shrink under 

 the sheltering nut bushes, with the rabbits you 

 have disturbed, until he is out of sight and 

 hearing. Not that he could actively or passively 

 interfere at that time of the evening, but lest 

 he might discover the narrow path and occupy 

 your sacred ground on some other occasion. 



Well, he has gone, so you are free to make 

 your way to the lower end, where the deep 

 water comes down towards you under the beech 

 roots; and the trout, who never intend to be 

 caught by anything but a dap, are already busy 

 sucking down flies with a sense of security not 

 only fancied but actual. How it would surprise 

 one of these specimen fish to find itself hooked 

 were such a scheme possible; but, with the 

 network overhead of protective roots and 

 branches, they will remain to excite envy and 

 admiration for many years to come. 



From this point to the half mile higher up 

 stream, where the river escapes from the large 



