Roy had fished in the ditch by the side of the road a great many times; but he had only a bent pin for a fish-hook, and a piece of twine for a line. He never caught any fish there.

When he was six years old his uncle James gave him a real fish-hook and a line, and after a good deal of coaxing his mother said that he might go down the cow-path to the brook and fish for trout.

Uncle James caught a great many trout in the brook.

Alice wanted to go with Roy; and Roy, who is very kind to his sister, asked his mother to let her go.

Alice carried the basket,—a pretty large one. Mary, the cook, told them to be sure and get it full of fish, so that she could fry them for dinner.

How proud and happy they were! Their mother could see them from the window all the time.

When they reached the brook Alice sat down on a rock. Roy put a worm on the hook, and dropped the end of the line into the stream. But it was a long time before he got a bite. At last he thought he felt a nibble.

“I’ve got one, Ally!” he shouted. “O, such a big fellow! You will have to come and help me pull him out!” They tugged away on the line, and then they both fell over backwards.

“There he is!” cried Roy. But when they got up and looked, it was not a trout at all. It was only a piece of a black root that broke off and gave them a tumble.

Roy tried again, and after a good while he felt another nibble. He jerked the line out so quickly that the hook caught in the back of Alice’s dress. It pricked her shoulder so that she had half a mind to cry.

Roy could not get the hook out of her dress, and they went home for their mother to help them.

Mary laughed at Roy a good deal. She told his uncle James, at dinner-time, that Roy caught the biggest trout she ever saw, and he had to come home for his mother to get it off the hook.

L. A. B. C.