“You may go into the fields or down the lane, but don’t go into Mr. McGregor’s garden. Your Father had an accident there; he was put in a pie by Mrs. Mcgregor.”
″‘Give me the herbs for the omelette. Be sharp!’ He was rather abrupt. Jemima Puddle-duck had never heard him speak like that. She felt surprised, and uncomfortable.”
“Mr. Jeremy put on a macintosh, and a pair of shiny goloshes; he took his rod and basket, and set off with enormous hops to the place where he kept his boat.
The boat was round and green, and very like the other lily-leaves. It was tied to a water-plant in the middle of the pond.
Mr. Jeremy took a reed pole, and pushed the boat out into the open water.”
“He had the dearest little red float. His rod was tough stalk of grass, his line was a fine long white horse-hair, and he tied a little wriggling worm at the end.”
“Mr. Jeremy shoved the boat out again a little way, and dropped the bait. There was a bite almost directly; the float gave a tremendous bobbit!
‘A minnow! a minnow! I have him by the nose!’ cried Mr. Jeremy Fisher, jerking up his rod.
But what a horrible surprise! Instead of a smooth fat minnow, Mr. Jeremy landed little Jack Sharp the stickleback, covered with spines!”
“And instead of a nice dish of minnows- they had a roasted grasshopper with lady-bird sauce; which frogs consider a beautiful treat; but I think it must have been nasty!”
“And while Mr. Jeremy sat disconsolately on the edge of his boat- sucking his sore fingers and peering down into the water- a much worse thing happened; a really frightful thing it would have been, if Mr. Jeremy had not been wearing a macintosh!”
“A great big enormous trout came up-kerpflop-p-p-p! with a splash-and it seized Mr. Jeremy with a snap, ‘Ow! Ow! Ow!’ - and then it turned and dived down to the bottom of the pond!
But the trout was so displeased with the taste of macintosh, that in less than half a minute it spat him out again; and the only thing it swallowed was Mr. Jeremy’s goloshes.”
″ ‘What a mercy that was not a pike!’ said Mr. Jeremy Fisher. ‘I have lost my rod and basket; but it does not much matter, for I am sure I should never have dared to go fishing again!’ ”
“Once upon a time there was a frog called Mr. Jeremy Fisher; he lived in a little damp house amongst the buttercups at the edge of a pond.
The water was all slippery-sloppy in the larder and in the back passage.
But Mr. Jeremy liked getting his feet wet; nobody ever scolded him, and he never caught a cold!”