218 By Stream and Sea. 



bird I've been looking for these three weeks. Ah ! (glanc- 

 ing down at the cob's feet) they've frosted old Rory, but 

 there's no need of that. There's only an inch of snow, and 

 it looks a trifle clearer just now. Shouldn't be at all sur- 

 prised if you get a good basket of pike to-day." 



"So mote it be," was the response. Thornbury, B.A., 

 had been so forced to the mill-round of town duties that 

 since the close of the trout season he had never handled a 

 rod ; therefore was he at this moment very blood-thirsty in 

 his intentions towards the ferocious denizens of the well- 

 stocked expanses of water towards which they were driving. 

 His friend was a better judge than he, and evidently thought 

 little of the severity of the weather, but it seemed to him to 

 be bitterly cold — that hard steely sort of cold against which 

 there is no appeal. However, it would not be a long drive ; 

 they had rugs, wrappers, and Ulsters, and there is no better 

 exertion in the world than the wielding of a supple spinning 

 rod. Rory trotted without a slip over the ground, and soon 

 brought the adventurers to Harvey's boat-house. 



Said Thornbury, " You may talk of the joy-inspiring 

 features of spring, laud the more matronly charms of sum- 

 mer, and paint and sing the beauties of mellow autumn; 

 but, so long as it be thorough, give me a winter scene." 



Here before the sportsmen lay an immense lake of oval 

 shape, its waters, in the pure white setting of the snow- 

 covered earth, dark almost to blackness. Beyond the 

 further shore were seen the blue straight-rising smoke of a 

 hamlet, the pointed spire of the church that to-morrow would 

 ring a merry Christmas chime, the peeping chimneys of the 

 cottages, and the long outstretched motionless arms of 

 the windmills on the higher ground. The bared limbs of the 

 larger trees were powdered lightly on the upper portions 

 of the branches ; the smaller boughs and the hedges were 



