not so young as I was, and old Tom has carried me since noon. He has gone round to stable, for my turf is not for hooves to tread." "Your turf?" "Ay, marry!" said the old gentleman carelessly, as he placed the fish back in the creel. "Hah!" he exclaimed, weighing the thing in his hand, "I have seen a worse evening's fishing. Trust me! There is two stone in there, my master!" As he spoke the strap gave beneath the inordinate weight of chalk-stream trout, and slipped through his fingers. The creel fell to earth. I stooped—for this man was worthy of all reverence—and picked the thing up, bracing myself unconsciously to lift. My body flew upwards with a jerk which caused me severe pain, and when I had recovered from the shock of surprise the creel was in his hands. In the gathering darkness I must have failed to take hold of it.
"Sir," he said, "I thank you. And now I will even wish you a good night's rest, and, an you angle on the morrow, a fair south wind and a dark water." So saying he began to move silently away. "But don't you fish to-morrow?" I cried. It would be an education to see this angler at work.
The river mist was thickening fast, and partly by the faint pallor in the west, which was all that remained of Midsummer Day, partly by the
