So he went up the river again a little way , and lay there the rest of the night under an alder root ; but , when morning came , he longed to go down again to the big pool , and see whether Mr. Grimes had turned into a water-baby yet . So he went very carefully , peeping round all the rocks , and hiding under all the roots . Mr. Grimes lay there still ; he had not turned into a water-baby . In the afternoon Tom went back again . He could not rest till he had found out what had become of Mr. Grimes . But this time Mr. Grimes was gone ; and Tom made up his mind that he was turned into a water-baby . He might have made himself easy , poor little man ; Mr. Grimes did not turn into a water-baby , or anything like one at all . But he did not make himself easy ; and a long time he was fearful lest he should meet Grimes suddenly in some deep pool . He could not know that the fairies had carried him away , and put him , where they put everything which falls into the water , exactly where it ought to be . But , do you know , what had happened to Mr. Grimes had such an effect on him that he never poached salmon any more . And it is quite certain that , when a man becomes a confirmed poacher , the only way to cure him is to put him under water for twenty-four hours , like Grimes . So when you grow to be a big man , do you behave as all honest fellows should ; and never touch a fish or a head of game which belongs to another man without his express leave ; and then people will call you a gentleman , and treat you like one ; and perhaps give you good sport : instead of hitting you into the river , or calling you a poaching snob . Then Tom went on down , for he was afraid of staying near Grimes : and as he went , all the vale looked sad . The red and yellow leaves showered down into the river ; the flies and beetles were all dead and gone ; the chill autumn fog lay low upon the hills , and sometimes spread itself so thickly on the river that he could not see his way . But he felt his way instead , following the flow of the stream , day after day , past great bridges , past boats and barges , past the great town , with its wharfs , and mills , and tall smoking chimneys , and ships which rode at anchor in the stream ; and now and then he ran against their hawsers , and wondered what they were , and peeped out , and saw the sailors lounging on board smoking their pipes ; and ducked under again , for he was terribly afraid of being caught by man and turned into a chimney-sweep once more . He did not know that the fairies were close to him always , shutting the sailors ' eyes lest they should see him , and turning him aside from millraces , and sewer-mouths , and all foul and dangerous things . Poor little fellow , it was a dreary journey for him ; and more than once he longed to be back in Vendale , playing with the trout in the bright summer sun . But it could not be . What has been once can never come over again . And people can be little babies , even water-babies , only once in their lives .
Besides , people who make up their minds XXXXX go and see the world , as Tom did , must needs find it a weary journey .
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