A SEASIDE YARN. 43 
but comparatively unknown rivers, which serve to 
minister to the mighty giant streams in whose floods 
their waters and names are together swept away. 
It was morning, and the sharp call of the jungle-cock 
and cry of the pea-fowl sounded shrilly from the 
depths of the forest, whilst the wheetle-wheetling 
and chirping of myriads of tiny creatures called into 
activity and insect bustle by the rays of coming day 
came up from amongst the tufted yellow reeds and 
feathery grass. Just at the point at which I broke 
cover, the river, after thundering over a high ledge, 
took a sharp turn round a huge pile of black rock, 
and then, with a wide sweeping eddy, formed as 
glorious a pool as the most exacting of fly-fishers 
ever waved wand over. But, alas! no lordly salmon, 
or agile speckled trout, leaps here. "What those un- 
known depths contain, who shall say? Alligators pro- 
bably, and what besides I fancy few would care to 
dive for the purpose of ascertaining. Just by the 
shoulder of the rock, under the shade of some trailing 
plants, sat or rather perched some half-dozen dusky 
“gentry of the neighbourhood,” whose united tailors’ 
bills would have barely paid turnpike for a walking- 
stick, each on his own-particular stone, much like 
some of the grotesque figures the Japanese delight in 
representing fishing. After the first start of astonish- 
ment at my sudden appearance on the scene of action, 
friendly relations were at once established, and I had 
