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"Wreaths of Friendship A Gift for the Young"

If the river had been a
little wider, he never could have got out alone. As it was, however, by the
help of some rocks there were in the brook, he reached the shore, pretty
thoroughly exhausted, and not a little frightened. His zeal for
trout-fishing was by this time a good deal cooled off, as you may suppose.
The nearest he came to catching any of those cunning little fellows that
day, was when he tumbled into the brook; and then he had something else to
think of.
"There he was, alone, wet as a drowned rat, and shivering, partly from cold
and partly from fright, as if he had the ague. Poor fellow! His conscience
began to be heard again, now he had time to think. He hardly knew what to
do; he was ashamed to go home to his mother; and there he stood, for a good
while, leaning his head on the fence near the water, the tears all the time
chasing each other down his cheeks."
"I don't wonder he cried," said Robert; "but I can't help laughing to think
what a sorry figure he must have made there, on the bank! And he was going
to bring home such a nice string of fish, too! I wonder if his mother did
not laugh when she saw him coming.


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