and a rush
towards the shore,)--"oh, Orlando, it's a fish, and such a beauty!"

The trout, bewildered and exhausted by the double strain upon him,
floundered a little and moved into the shallow water at the mouth of
the brook. Orlando stepped down and quietly slipped the landing-net
under him.

"I see it is a fish," he said, "and it seems to be caught with a bait
and a fly, but it certainly is landed with a net. So in that case,
gentlemen, as your claims seem to be divided, I will take the liberty
of disengaging both your hooks, and of begging Miss Gray to accept this
Leviathan, as--may I tell them?--she has just accepted me."

By this time the newly risen sun was shining upon the ripples of the
Lirrapaug River and upon the four people who stood on the bank shaking
hands and exchanging polite remarks. His glowing face was bright with
that cheerful air of humourous and sympathetic benevolence with which
he seems to look upon all our human experiences of disappointment and
success.

The weary anglers found some physical comfort, at least, in the cool
glasses of milk which Miss Gray poured for them as they sat on the
verandah of the farmhouse. On their way up the hill, by the pleasant
path which followed Bushy Brook, these two brethren who were so much of
one mind in their devotion to their fishing and who differed only in
regard to the method to be pursued, did not talk much, but they felt
themselves nearer to each other than ever before. Something seemed to
weave between them the delicate and firm bonds of a friendship
strengthened by a common aim and chastened by a common experience of
disappointment. They could afford to be silent together because they
were now true comrades. I shall always maintain that both of them
received a great benefit from Leviathan.

THE ART OF LEAVING OFF

It was a hot August Sunday, one of those days on which art itself must
not be made too long lest it should shorten life. A little company of
us had driven down from our hotel on the comparatively breezy hill to
attend church in the village. The majority chose to pay their devotions
at the big yellow meeting-house, where the preacher was reputed a man
of eloquence; but my Uncle Peter drew me with him to the modest gray
chapel, at the far end of the street, which was temporarily under the
care of a student in the winter-school of theology, who was wisely
spending his vacation in the summer-school of life. Some happy
inspiration