! 
Aug. 22 , 1908 .] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
yellow and red monkey flowers appear in mid- 
i streaip where the water is wide and shallow, 
j and, as the season advances, gradually spread, 
until in places the brook and. many a good fish 
are entirely hidden from view. I have not 
seen this plant growing wild elsewhere, so con- 
: elude that during some great floods seeds have 
been washed from some of the cottage gardens 
which skirt my brook about a mile above the 
place where the flowers grow so profusely, or 
possibly that the cottagers, finding they had too 
many such plants, have at some time thrown 
• their surplus into the brook, where they have 
taken root and flourished. 
The best time of the day for fishing here in 
summer is from earliest dawn to sunrise, be¬ 
ginning in that gray uncertain light which makes 
a horse at the distance of a few paces appear as 
big as an elephant, and in the branch of an 
oak suggests a Gargantuan arm groping in the 
gloom. Starting in this light at the brook foot, 
and fishing upstream I can cover about half a 
mile of water by the time the first upward shafts 
of light shoot above the top of Pendle Hill, 
which hitherto has loomed black and solemn 
above the valley. 
This brings me to the round pool, skirting 
which, on the one side, is a margin of stately 
trees, while on the other a flat green lawn 
, stretches away some considerable distance, and 
is shut in by other trees of equally noble stature. 
I have it on the unimpeachable authority of a 
young lady whom, at the close of a day’s 
angling. I am accustomed to take upon my 
knee, that here the fairies and elves hold their 
midnight revels and junketings; and, being only 
a fisherman and unlearned in the lore of the un¬ 
known folk, any arguments I venture to present 
in opposition to this statement are easily over¬ 
thrown and ruler irrelevant. I am further in¬ 
formed that my powers of observation are of 
the meanest order, else should I have noticed 
certain circles, squares, and other geometric 
forms dividing the dew upon the grass, and 
proving incontestably that here the fairies had 
executed the figures of their dances. 
Be that as it may, the place is an ideal spot to 
breakfast on; so, spiking my rod in the ground, 
I am soon lost in the sublime eupeptic reflec- 
! tion occasioned by cold bacon sandwiches, 
| moistened with—in these latter days, when 
licensing laws are agitating the public mind, it 
is well to avoid the indiscretion of naming one’s 
special beverage. 
From here to the old barn is another half- 
mile, which, to fish carefully, will occupy quite 
three hours,, by which time the sun will be high 
in the heavens, and further fishing will for some 
hours be of little or no use. So, on a soft, 
green bank, I, in shady corner, take my lunch, 
i and then sit quietly and watch the water-rats 
(industrious creatures) working like beavers. 
They always appear to be building something 
and swim to and fro carrying twigs and bits of 
straw from somewhere to somewhere, passing 
i quite close to my retreat without alarm at my 
presence. Thus pleasingly do I spent the hot 
hours of the days, or may be I recline and read 
of Rosalind and Orlando, of old Adam, and 
| Jacques, and Touchstone, and Audrey, and the 
Shepherd, and—wake with the book open beside 
me in the early evening. Another half-mile of 
fishing, then suddenly I look up and think, ap- 
| palled at the flight of time, and see old Pendle 
crimson-crowned as he “holds his last parley 
with the setting sun.” Then I pack up my 
tackle and go home to supper and to the young 
lady whose conversation is of fairies, and to her 
! who, although of matronly years and cares, has 
ever directed my gaze to the returning spring, 
has found the first crocus and discovered the 
earliest wild hyacinth. Then to bed, tired in 
every limb, but with brain rested and recreated, 
and with an addition to the store of happy recol¬ 
lections associated with my brook.—Manchester 
Evening News. 
— 
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