cottony tufts, taller ones with brown tassels; and stout bulrushes, with their brown pokery seed-stems, growing tantalisingly out of reach. Such silvery bright smooth water, with bright blue beetles skimming about over the surface; and that skating spider that skims about over water with his long legs as easily as if it were ice, without giving a thought as to the possibility of sinking. Then down in the clear depths where Fred was peering, every now and then boatman beetles could be seen rowing about with their little pairs of oars, lying upon their backs to make boats of themselves—curious little fellows that by night come out of the water, and, opening a pair of cases, send out a bright and beautiful pair of wings, and fly about through the air till the morning.

“Oh! look at the little crocodiles!” cried Fred, to the intense delight of his cousins, as the showily-dressed newts went sailing easily through the clear water, with waving crests and lithe tails—such gay little fellows, with orange throats; while swimming about in chase of one another by myriads were the sticklebacks, of which the lads had come in quest.

Darting about over the pond were hundreds of dragon-flies, thin-bodied blue or green fellows, with bright transparent wings, that seemed invisible at times, so rapid was their vibration; while every now and then, rustling upon the wing as they dashed about in chase of one another, came the larger dragon-flies, to make brighter the scene.

And now began the fishing—fishing without hooks; for the voracious little sticklebacks seized the worm as soon as it was dropped into the pond, sometimes two together, one at each end, so that the tin can the boys had brought soon had several dozens of the fish inside. The first to draw out a painted “tiddler” was Fred, and a gorgeous little fellow it was, with a throat of the most brilliant scarlet, shaded off into orange; while gold and green of the most dazzling lustres shone in the sun.

“Mind his prickles!” cried Harry, by way of warning to Fred; but it was too late, for poor Fred’s fingers were already bleeding from the effects of the spines with which the fish bristled.

Fred was in a high state of delight, and, novice though he was in fishing, he succeeded in pulling out nearly as many as his cousins. Both he and Philip fished by means of tying a piece of twine round the middle of a worm, and letting the ends dangle down; but Harry had brought a float and line, and secured his worm by hooking one end of it.

The sport grew fast and furious, and might have been continued for any length of time, but for a sudden alarm that was raised respecting worms, for Harry had just abstracted the last unfortunate wriggler from the tin box.

“Never mind,” said Philip, “I’ll soon find some more;” and he directly set to work, pulling up tufts of grass and kicking down pieces of the bank wherever it looked at all damp; but all in vain, not a worm could he find; and he was just about giving up his task in despair, when a shout from Harry took his attention.

“Here, come here!” said Harry, “I’ve got such a thumper.”

Fred and Philip both ran up to him, and sure enough he seemed to have got hold of a “thumper,” as he called it, for his line was running about backwards and forwards through the water, while the willow wand which served him for a rod was bent half double.

“Pull him to the side, and I’ll get hold of the line,” said Philip.

“But he won’t come,” said Harry, trying to play his fish to the bank, but without success, for just then it made a dart right out towards the middle of the pond. Harry’s wand bent more and more, and, just as the greatest strain occurred, the line divided about two feet above the float, the wand gave a smart rebound, and poor Harry, the picture of disappointment, stood with a short piece of line waving about at the end of his stick, gazing woefully after his lost fish.

“Oh—oh—oh—h—h!” groaned Philip and Fred together, “what a pity!”

Harry continued to look most rueful, but said nothing.

“It must have been a jack,” said Philip. “What a big one! Why didn’t you pull it out when I told you?”

“How could I,” said Harry, “when it was dragging so?”

“I am sorry,” said Fred; “it must have been a great stickleback to pull the line in half.”

“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the cousins, “it wasn’t a stickler. They never grow any bigger than these.”

“Look! look!” said Fred, pointing to something that was bobbing up and down in the pond, “there’s Harry’s floater.”

“So there is,” said Harry; “perhaps it will come in close enough to get hold of.”

But, instead of coming in any closer, the little coloured cork kept working away towards a deep, dark-looking part, right under a large beech-tree, whose arms hung over that portion of the pond.

“Get up the tree, Hal,” said Philip, “and creep along that bough. You’ll get it then.”

“No, don’t,” said Fred, “you’ll fall in; I’m sure you will. Don’t, pray don’t,” he continued, as Harry ran towards the tree.

“I shan’t fall,” said Harry; “don’t you be a goose. I’ve climbed harder trees than that, haven’t I, Phil?”

“I should think so,” said Philip; “but don’t go too far, Hal, so as to get in, for it’s ever so deep there!”

“All right,” said Harry; “give me a bump up.”

Philip laid hold of his brother’s leg, and gave him a lift just as he grasped the tree with both arms, and then, taking advantage of the inequalities of the bark with his boots, Harry managed to climb slowly and laboriously to where the tree forked, and the branch reached forth from the parent stem over the deep pool, while Fred stood half aghast at what seemed to him the most daring act he ever beheld.

“Oh! take care,” he exclaimed, looking quite pale, while the palms of his hands grew moist and hot with excitement.

“I’m all right,” said Harry, creeping slowly out upon the branch; and then, seating himself astride, he began to work himself out over the water, while the bough quivered and bent at every movement. “Can you see it, Phil?” said the adventurer. “Just under the bough, now, and coming nearer. It’s gone!” he exclaimed, in dismay, as the float sank down out of sight. “But keep on, Harry; perhaps it will come up again.”

Harry kept on till he was about twenty feet away from the trunk of the tree, and about three feet from the surface of the water, and then sat watching where Philip threw a stone at the place where the float disappeared. He could see some distance down into the black-looking water, which report said was here ten feet deep; there were weeds and dead branches sticking up here and there, but no float, and no fish.

“It’s of no use; do come back,” said Fred, “or I know you will fall.”

“Whoof!” said Harry, giving himself a kind of jump, so that the bough swung up and down, and his feet dipped the water, while his head nearly rose to the branch above him. “Here’s such a jolly ride; come and have a turn, boys.”

“Pray don’t,” said Fred, “I know you’ll fall.” And then—but not in obedience to Fred’s request—Harry became motionless; for just beneath his feet he saw, rising from the depth of the pond, the white top of his float. Fred gave a half shriek at what he saw, for to him it seemed a feat of unsurpassed daring, as Harry clasped the bough with his legs, and swinging himself head downwards, he plunged his hands into the water and grasped his truant line.

There was a moment’s struggle, for the fish was still at the end, but it was beaten: and the effort of keeping the cork-float down so long, and its previous struggles, made it an easy prey. Tightly twisting the line round his finger, Harry swung himself up again, and began carefully to make the retrograde journey after the manner of a sloth, with