Here is the basket; I bring it home to you. There are no great fish
    in it. But perhaps there may be one or two little ones which will
    be to your taste. And there are a few shining pebbles from the bed
    of the brook, and ferns from the cool, green woods, and wild flowers
    from the places that you remember. I would fain console you, if I
    could, for the hardship of having married an angler: a man who
    relapses into his mania with the return of every spring, and never