NOTES FROM A DIARY 155 



and sank to rest within the hidden fastness. 

 It was impossible to use a landing-net in 

 such thick growth, so I climbed into the 

 river, feeling cautiously along the line till 

 my hand touched the great broad side of 

 the stationary fish. Another moment 

 and I could have found a grip behind the 

 open gill, but just then something hap- 

 pened. Perhaps I reached too far and 

 slipped. Perhaps the trout gave one last 

 leap for life. As the taut cast snapped 

 his great dark tail rose once above the 

 weed, breaking the surface. 



The aftermatli of such experience is too 

 bitter to be spoken of. I see a lonely 

 fisher sitting in tragic gloom upon a river- 

 bank, gazing for ever at a tangled clump 

 of water-weeds that sway and eddy with 

 the stirring stream. Why, I had hooked 

 the only three fish that dwelt in these 

 waters ! Two monsters had been lost ; 

 only the third, the small one, had been 

 landed. This was not strictly true ; there 

 still remained that fish below those thistle- 

 heads. It was certain that he was still 

 feeding. Crossing by way of the mill- 

 hatch I followed down the further bank. 



