We were strangers in the neighbourhood.
"Ah!" said the carrier, "then, of course, how should you?
It was nearly five years ago that I caught that trout." "Oh! was it you who caught it, then ?" said I.
"Yes, sir," replied the genial old fellow.

"I caught him just below the lock--leastways, what was the lock then--one Friday afternoon; and the remarkable thing about it is that I caught him with a fly.

I'd gone out pike fishing, bless you, never thinking of a trout, and when I saw that whopper on the end of my line, blest if it didn't quite take me aback.
Well, you see, he weighed twenty-six pound.

Good-night, gentlemen, good-night." Five minutes afterwards, a third man came in, and described how _he_ had caught it early one morning, with bleak; and then he left, and a stolid, solemn-looking, middle-aged individual came in, and sat down over by the window.
None of us spoke for a while; but, at length, George turned to the new comer, and said: "I beg your pardon, I hope you will forgive the liberty that we--perfect strangers in the neighbourhood--are taking, but my friend here and myself would be so much obliged if you would tell us how you caught that trout up there." "Why, who told you I caught that trout!" was the surprised query.
We said that nobody had told us so, but somehow or other we felt instinctively that it was he who had done it.
"Well, it's a most remarkable thing--most remarkable," answered the stolid stranger, laughing; "because, as a matter of fact, you are quite right.

I did catch it.