AY THE MIDLANDS. 



97 



urn now so seldom seen, but from the hot water jug doing 

 duty as a reserve force to the teapot; and to be honest 

 (poor hict honest as the story books have it) the cups were 

 not quite so innocent as those handed round in Mr. New- 

 ton's Buckinghamshire Vicarage or Mrs. Unwin's parlour, 

 for, as a precaution against cold — and understand, once for 

 all, from no less praiseworthy motive — our tea was flavoured 

 with just a suspicion of cognac, which increased the cheer- 

 ing quality without producing actual inebriation. 



It is Cowper's fault that by this time I have almost for- 

 gotten my " hot corner " experience on the Ouse. I 

 apologise and pass on. The morning after we had 

 welcomed our peaceful evening in — do not fear, I really will 

 not wander away from the point any more — it blew a gale, 

 and we had not been out of doors five minutes before we 

 were drenched. At length we got a mile or two down the 

 stream, but the blank of the previous day was repeated. 

 Like those very old fishermen we read of, we toiled all day 

 and caught nothing. The sun began to set in a copper- 

 clouded and wild sky about five o'clock, and in the midst of 

 a discussion as to whether we had not better go back to 

 welcome another &c., the wind fell — soughed convulsively 

 amongst the quivering forest of reeds, sighed, and went to 

 sleep. 



Now was the time. A lively gudgeon cast within a few 

 inches of an island of rushes in the middle of the river did 

 the trick ; in a twinkUng the float darted away and the wincli 

 spun round merrily. In all directions the small fry, leaping 

 out of the water and fluttering on the surface, betrayed the 

 whereabouts of the ravenous fish. Released from the 

 mysterious spell laid upon them to our loss during the two 



