A BROOK gc~. ...j 



accompanied by the purple ground-ivy, the red 

 dead nettle, and the daisy ; this last a late comer 

 in the neighbourhood. The blackthorn, the horse- 

 chestnut, and the hawthorn came, and the meadows 

 were golden with the buttercups. 



Once only had I noticed any indication of fish 

 in the brook ; it was on a warm Saturday afternoon, 

 when there was a labourer a long way up the stream, 

 stooping in a peculiar manner near the edge of the 

 water with a stick in his hand. He was, I felt sure, 

 trying to wire a spawning jack, but did not suc- 

 ceed. Many weeks had passed, and now there 

 came (as the close time for coarse fish expired) 

 a concourse of anglers to the almost stagnant 

 pond fed by the side hatch. 



Well-dressed lads with elegant and finished tackle 

 rode up on their bicycles, with their rods slung at 

 their backs. Hoisting the bicycles over the gate 

 into the meadow, they left them leaning against 

 the elms, fitted their rods and fished in the pond. 

 Poorer boys, with long wands cut from the hedge 

 and ruder lines, trudged up on foot, sat down on 

 the sward and watched their corks by the hour to- 

 gether. Grown men of the artisan class, covered 

 with the dust of many miles' tramping, came with 

 their luncheons in a handkerchief, and set about 

 their sport with a quiet earnestness which argued 

 long if desultory practice. 



71 



