A LONDON TROUT 



full through green meadows. You can see right 

 to the bottom ; you can see where the rush of the 

 water has scooped out a deeper channel under the 

 arches, but look as long as you like there are no 

 fish. 



The trout I watched so long, and with such 

 pleasure, was always on the other side, at the tail 

 of the arch, waiting for whatever might come 

 through to him. There in perpetual shadow he 

 lay in wait, a little at the side of the arch, scarcely 

 ever varying his position except to dart a yard up 

 under the bridge to seize anything he fancied, and 

 drifting out again to bring up at his anchorage. 

 If people looked over the parapet that side, they did 

 not see him ; they could not see the bottom there 

 for the shadow, or if the summer noonday cast a 

 strong beam, even then it seemed to cover the sur- 

 face of the water with a film of light which could 

 not be seen through. There are some aspects 

 from which even a picture hung on the wall close 

 at hand cannot be seen. So no one saw the trout ; 

 if any one more curious leant over the parapet, he 

 was gone in a moment under the arch. 



Folk fished in the pond about the verge of which 

 the sedge-birds chattered, and but a few yards dis- 

 tant ; but they never looked under the arch on the 

 northern and shadowy side, where the water flowed 

 beside the beech. For three seasons this con- 

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