A Lesson in Swimming

Rich grass, golden butter-cups, bushes and trees whose boughs swept down
towards the ground, swallows and swifts darting here and there, and
beneath the vividly blue sky there was the river like so much damascened
silver, for in those days one never thought about the mud.

I cannot describe the joy I felt in running here and there with my
companion, and a couple of his school-fellows who had preceded us, and
who saluted us as we approached with a shout.

We ran about till we were tired, and then the fishing commenced from the
bank, for the tide was well up, and according to my companion's account
the fish were in plenty.

Perhaps they were, but though bait after bait was placed upon the hook,
and the line thrown out to float along with the current, not a fish was
caught, no vestige of that nerve-titillating tremble of the float--a
bite--was seen.

Every now and then some one struck sharply, trying to make himself
believe that roach or dace had taken the bait, but the movement of the
float was always due to the line dragging the gravelly ground, or the
bait touching one of the many weeds.

The sun was intensely hot, and scorched our backs, and burned our faces
by flashing back from the water, which looked cool and tempting, as it
ran past our feet.

We fished on, sometimes one handling the rod and sometimes the other--
beginning by throwing in the line with whispered words, so as not to
frighten the fish that were evidently not there, and ending by sending
in bait and float with a splash, and with noise and joking.