viii A MINIATURE STREAM 131 



better informed. The water, he admitted, 

 contained fish, but he feared so wanton an 

 innovation as angling for them could not be 

 thought of. He was polite, but firm ; so 

 the angler tendered his card, took down his 

 rod, and departed disconsolate. Pebbleville 

 was, after all, a poor place to inaugurate a 

 great literary undertaking in, and the rest of 

 the day proved it conclusively. 



On the morrow, however, the sun rose 

 at his accustomed time, and with more than 

 his accustomed brightness, for on the break- 

 fast-table lay a letter, which, in a few cour- 

 teous phrases, acknowledged the receipt of 

 his card, and gave the angler the privilege 

 of fishing in the brook as long and as 

 much as he pleased. Pebbleville was itself 

 again. Breakfast was eaten with appetite, 

 a note thanking the owner of the land for 

 an exceptionally graceful act of courtesy was 

 written and posted, and in a very short 

 time the winter garden was being crossed 

 with hasty steps. 



The Christmas trees seemed to have grown 

 in the night, and the brook was certainly 

 larger than it had appeared ; the Pierhaven 

 fly-rod was a miracle of cheapness at half a 



