By the conclusion of the fray the
Rise is over.
Anglus.--I have saved my fly, but lo, the trout have ceased to feed, and
will rise no more till after sunset. Well, "a merry heart goes all the
way!" And lo, here comes my Scholar. Ho, runaway, how have you sped?
Scotus.--Not ill. Here be my spoils, great ones; but how faint-hearted
are your southern trout!
Anglus.--That fat fellow is a good three pounds by the scales. But,
Scholar, with what fly caught ye these, and where?
Scotus.--Marry, Master, in a Mill-tail, where the water lagged not, but
ran free as it doth in bonny Scotland; nor with no fly did I grip him,
but with an artificial penk, or minnow. It was made by a handsome woman
that had a fine hand, and wrought for Master Brown, of Aberdeen. The
mould, or body of the minnow, is of parchment, methinks, and he hath fins
of copper, all so curiously dissembled that it will beguile any sharp-
sighted trout in a swift stream. Men call it a Phantom, Master; wilt
thou not try my Phantom?
Anglus.--Begone, sirrah. I took thee for an angler, and thou art but a
poaching knave!
Scotus.--Knave thyself! I will break thy head!
Anglus.--Softly, Scholar. Here comes good Master Hedgely, who will see
fair play. Now lie there, my coat, and have at you!
[They fight, SCOTUS is knocked down.
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