6 AN ANGLER'S HOURS i 



charms him. The sentence on which his eye 

 is fixed is this : " And in the morning about 

 three or four of the clock, visit the water- 

 side, but not too near, for they have a 

 cunning watchman, and are watchful them- 

 selves too." A quaint old sentence out of 

 a quaint old book, clad in a quaint old 

 sheepskin jacket. 



Now he has finished his breakfast, shut 

 his book, and is already leaving the room. 

 In the hall he unfastens the shutters of the 

 glass door which opens on to the drive. 

 Through the frosted panes comes in a faint 

 grey light more ghostly than the former 

 darkness ; but it is light, a twilight which 

 gives promise of day. He sits him down 

 on a chair, our friend, and puts on his boots 

 and a stout pair of leathern gaiters. This 

 done, he opens another door, passes through 

 it, and returns laden with many things. 

 On his back is a great creel, in one hand a 

 bundle of fishing-rods, in the other a camp- 

 stool and a basket, and a hat is on his head. 

 And now, opening the glass door, he steps 

 out into the drive, and we his companions 

 step out with him unseen. A few instants 

 he stands drinking in the pure morning air 



