He did
come out to look at it, but probably considering it a product of that
modern aestheticism which sacrifices natural beauty to mediaeval crudeness
of color and form, he retired without evincing any disposition to
countenance this style of art.
It was evident that it would be useless to put on any other flies, for
the two I had left were a good deal bedraggled, and not nearly so
attractive as those I had used. Just before leaving the house that
morning, Peter's son had given me a wooden match-box filled with worms
for bait, which, although I did not expect to need, I put in my pocket.
As a last resort I determined to try the trout with a worm. I selected
the plumpest and most comely of the lot; I put a new hook on my line; I
looped him about it in graceful coils, and cautiously approached the
water, as before. Now a worm never attempts to wildly leap across a
flowing brook, nor does he flit in thoughtless innocence through the
sunny air, and over the bright transparent stream. If he happens to fall
into the water, he sinks to the bottom; and if he be of a kind not
subject to drowning, he generally endeavors to secrete himself under a
stone, or to burrow in the soft mud. With this knowledge of his nature I
gently dropped my worm upon the surface of the stream, and then allowed
him slowly to sink.
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