[Solar-OpenOffice] {Spam?} he proceeded, pitching

[Laquita]

Iday?" I replied, with perfect truth, that I knew nothing about fishing.
But Mr. Garthwaite, who was as ardent an angler in his way as Izaak
Walton himself, was not to be appeased even by the best of excuses. "It
is never too late to learn," cried he. "I will make a fisherman of you
in no time, if you will only attend to my directions." It was impossible
for me to make any more apologies, without the risk of appealing
discourteous. So I thanked my host for his friendly intentions, and,
with some secret misgivings, accepted the first fishing-rod that he put
into my hands. "We shall soon get there," said Mr. Garthwaite. "I am
taking you to the best mill-stream in the neighborhood." It was all one
to me whether we got there soon or late and whether the stream was good
or bad. However, I did my best to conceal my unsportsman-like apathy;
and tried to look quite happy and very impatient to begin, as we drew
near to the mill, and heard louder and louder the gushing of many waters
all round it. Leading the way immediately to a place beneath the falling
stream, where there was a deep, eddying pool, Mr. Garthwaite baited and
threw in his line before I had fixed the joints of my fishing-rod. This
first difficulty overcome, I involuntarily plunged into some excellent,
but rather embarrassing, sport with my line and hook. I caught every one
of my garments, from head to foot; I angled
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