A FISHERMAN'S FALL 149 



mill of beautiful old red brick, roofed with 

 lichened tiles of lovely colours which only 

 great age can confer. The river below the 

 mill runs through an old garden, a pathway 

 crossing the stream just below the building 

 where the water races out from the mill-chamber. 

 Below this little bridge the water is deep, forming 

 a little pool, but it soon runs off on to about 

 thirty yards of gravel-bottomed shallow, over- 

 grown with large willows. Then it passes under 

 an old stone bridge, dating from the days of 

 King John. So much for the water below. 

 Wading up the shallow, it is an ideal cast up- 

 stream as far as the place where the water runs 

 out from the mill, but there the little bridge 

 is only about twelve inches above the surface 

 of the river, and the most skilful fisher cannot 

 get his fly far up the little tunnel. 



Leaning over the rail of the little bridge, 

 you can practically always get a view of the 

 waving tail of a very large trout, invariably 

 at least two feet below the surface. There is 

 a legend amongst the family that dwell in the 

 mill that once upon a time the fish dropped 

 far enough down-stream to show his whole 

 self, and that he was bigger than a big one 

 I caught in the mill-pool above. (That weighed 

 3| Ib.) Personally I cannot vouch for his size 



