46 DAYS IN DOVE DALE 



after the event sufficiently attest the truth of 

 this assertion. 



But another and far more trying adventure 

 befell me on this singular excursion. 



"Why," I have been led to ask myself, 

 "should things happen to me, a citizen of 

 famous London town, in my rare country 

 rambles, such as never in the lifetime of one 

 in a hundred of country people happen to 

 them ? " Did you, my friend, ever, in your 

 backward throw, hook your fly firmly into a 

 tough twig on a wasps' nest ? 



By what strange fatality, then, is it that I 

 of all piscators in the world should have come 

 upon one in this strange way? " Piscator ic- 

 tus sapiet" I remember the sting of wasps 

 from my schoolboy days. I may be very 

 green and innocent in things rural and pisca- 

 torial, but I do hope that not one of my 

 readers has thought me such a fool as to walk 

 up to that twig to release my hook. No; I 

 did what any other sane person would do I 

 threw down my rod and ignominously bolted 

 across the meadow pursued by a dozen of 

 these little winged beasts. 



One by one they dropped off, five, four, 



