70 GOLDEN DAYS 



the Leviathan. Rumour has it that once, 

 on a dark and starless night, was Leviathan 

 led astray by an ample and elderly grass- 

 hopper. But the latter's known prefer- 

 ence for sunshine and early habits makes 

 us doubt the story. Jean Pierre suspects 

 a cockroach, and his experiences ^^dth 

 cockroaches on dark nights are not to be 

 despised. Yet the point can never be 

 settled, because Leviathan, so 'tis said, 

 snapped a length of salmon gut around 

 that post which marks the entrance to the 

 mill-race. Yes, there is a mill beyond the 

 next bend, and everyone who has fished 

 on Breton streams will recognise this 

 particular pool, will even hear again the 

 constant cracking of the gorse-pods in the 

 noonday heat. Indeed, there are scores 

 of such pools in Lower Brittany, each 

 with its water-mill, and to these is the 

 angler indebted for the general preserva- 

 tion of the trout. The stored waters 

 above each mill-dam are usually deep and 

 extensive, and to them the fish descend in 

 hot, dry weather. They are so full of 

 snags and holes that they cannot easily be 

 poached with a net, and so a good breed- 



