Fox's Earth to Mountain Tarn 



starred with the charming white flowers of the 

 water crowfoot. 



Trout abound. They fatten on the multitudi- 

 nous crustaceans and molluscs, which crawl or 

 dart through the shades of the submarine forest. 

 Well cared for beneath, they do not readily take 

 a lure. It is so in all weedy places. They hunt 

 through the dim waterways, feed, and grow lazy, 

 and have no need for more. Slow to rise, they 

 are harder to get on shore. The breaking ring, 

 and the disappearing hook, which send a thrill 

 along the arm and bring the heart to the mouth, 

 are often the beginning of calamity. 



A little fish may be checked ; but, alas for the 

 larger quarry, which must go to the bottom, and 

 have line, and be tired out ; if need be, led down 

 the stream and drowned. No room is there for 

 such play, for the delicate handling, which is 

 the triumph of the angler's art, and gives the 

 advantage to the slender gut. In the scurrying, 

 the line is wound round the submerged stem. 

 The end is not the capture of a large trout, but 

 the loss of a good cast. The baffled angler has 

 the satisfaction of knowing that the poacher to 

 whose methods the straight banks and smooth 

 flow lend themselves also is baffled. Every 

 stream breeds such gentry in the adjoining vil- 

 lages. Some shoemaker of pseudo-sporting tastes, 

 or idler with more practical ends in view. If the 

 fly is dropped with fear and trembling, in the half- 



G 8l 



