crossed a small stream. This stream came in a slow and meandering course
through the meadows, and here emptied into the lake. Farther back it was
a torrent leaping from rock to rock and crag to crag, for many thousand
feet down the mountain side; but here it flowed so gently, and lay so
quietly in its bed, that pond lilies grew and bloomed in its waters.

Just above the bridge there was a square enclosure in the margin of the
water, with a solid stone wall all around it. A man stood on the wall
with a net in his hand. The net was attached to a pole. The man was just
dipping the net into the water when Rollo, with his father and mother,
came upon the bridge.

"Let us stop a minute, and see what that man is going to do," said
Rollo. "I saw that square wall yesterday, and I could not imagine what
it was for."

The man put his net down to the bottom of the reservoir, and after
drawing it along on the bottom, he took it out again. There was nothing
in it. He then repeated the operation, and this time he brought up two
large fishes that looked like trout. They were both more than a foot
long.

The man uttered a slight exclamation of satisfaction, and then lifting
the net over the wall, he let the fish fall into a basket which he had
placed outside. He then went away, carrying the basket with one hand,
and the net on his shoulder with the other.

"That's a very curious plan," said Rollo. "I suppose they catch the fish
in the lake, and then put them in that pen and keep them there till they
are ready to eat them."

So they walked on.

Presently Rollo saw some of the pond lilies growing in the stream, the
course of which was here, for a short distance, near the road.

"I wish very much, mother," said he, "that I could get one of those pond
lilies for you, but I cannot. I tried yesterday, but they are too far
from the shore, and it is so finished, and smooth, and nice about here
that there is no such thing as a pole or a stick to be found any where
to reach with."

Presently, however, Rollo came to a boy who was fishing on the bank of
the stream, and he asked him if he would be good enough to hook in one
of those lilies for him with his pole and line. The boy was very willing
to do it. He threw a loop of his line over one of the pond lilies, and
drew it in. Rollo thanked the boy for his kindness, and gave the pond
lily to his mother.

Perhaps there are no flowers that give a higher pleasure to the
possessors than th