in MAY-DAY ON THE EXE 55 



attempt to argue the matter with the butt- 

 end of his fishing-pole. Rather would he 

 give them fair words, and asseverate how 

 much he admired them from what he had 

 heard of them. So might he escape, for 

 even a Doone must be susceptible to 

 flattery. 



Thus he meditates for some half-hour, 

 but no one comes to disturb his solitude, 

 and at last he remembers that, though the 

 children of the great novelist's fancy will 

 never come to gladden his eyes, yet are 

 there still trout in the Exe, and while there 

 are trout life is worth living. So he rises 

 and takes up his rod again. For the next 

 mile or two the fishing is very good. The 

 river winds like a serpent, and at every bend 

 there is a pool of surpassing merit. But our 

 friend finds that the trout are not rising so 

 well as they were in the morning, and by 

 five o'clock he has only added four to his 

 basket. One of them, however, is a good 

 half-pounder, and he fully sustained the 

 reputation of his race. There is a chain of 

 little pools, four in number, where the river 

 turns twice in a few yards, and he took the 

 March brown at the head of the top one. 



