e he was a boy. Fate
had decreed that this ambition should not be gratified until his head
was bald; but he did not rejoice the less on this account. His limbs
were stout and still active, and his enthusiasm was as strong as it was
in boyhood. No one knew the powerful spirit of angling which dwelt in
Mr Sudberry's breast. His wife did not, his sons did not. He was not
fully aware of it himself, until opportunity revealed it in the most
surprising manner. He had, indeed, known a little of the angler's
feelings in the days of his youth, but he had a soul above punts, and
chairs, and floats, and such trifles; although, like all great men, he
did not despise little things. Many a day had he sat on old Father
Thames, staring, with eager expectation, at a gaudy float, as if all his
earthly hopes were dependent on its motions; and many a struggling fish
had he whipped out of the muddy waters with a shout of joy. But he
thought of those days, now, with the feelings of an old soldier who,
returning from the wars to his parents' abode, beholds the drum and
pop-gun of his childhood. He recalled the pleasures of the punt with
patronising kindliness, and gazed majestically on crag, and glen, and
bright, glancing stream, while he pressed his foot upon the purple
heath, and put up his fishing-rod!

Mr Sudberry was in his element now. The deep flush on his gladsome
countenance indicated the turmoil of combined romance and delight which
raged within his heaving chest, and which he with difficulty prevented
from breaking forth into an idiotic cheer. He was alone, as we have
said. He was purposely so. He felt that, as yet, no member of his
family could possibly sympathise with his feelings. It was better that
they should not witness emotions which they could not thoroughly
understand. Moreover, he wished to surprise them with the result of his
prowess--in regard to which his belief was unlimited. He felt, besides,
that it was better there should be no witness to the trifling failures
which might be expected to occur in the first essay of one wholly
unacquainted with the art of angling, as practised in these remote
glens.

The pool beside which Mr Sudberry stood was one which Hector Macdonald
had pointed out as being one of the best in the river. It lay at the
tail of a rapid, had an eddy in it, and a rippling, oily surface. The
banks were in places free from underwood, and only a few small trees
grew near them. The sh