THE WELSH BORDERLAND 



of days, whenever I chose to take them, in the Downton 

 Castle water on the Teme — no Httle of a privilege, as 

 I afterwards realised, and in those days, at any rate, not 

 very readily conceded. I knew nothing at all of the 

 water, and in a persistently dry August, which showed 

 no sign of a change, held my prospective advantages 

 somewhat cheaply. However, it was but ordinarily 

 dry weather, not an American summer, as in the case 

 of 191 1, so after a few days I thought I would make 

 my first trial of the water, and at any rate explore the 

 river. It was only when I disclosed to them the fact 

 of my permit and my intentions that I came to realise 

 the true inwardness of my landlord and his spouse, or, 

 I should rather say, of my landlady and her husband. 

 The one ceased to be the rather blunt personage 

 who took orders for meals, laid the table, and pre- 

 sented the bill ; the other changed altogether from 

 the gentle being who crept up from the basement 

 occasionally for a few seconds with an armful of 

 extremely well-cleaned boots. Both in short got 

 pleasurably excited, and I discovered that not only was 

 the man a keen angler, as well as most other kindred 

 things, but that the lady was too. Nor was this all, 

 for both of them, through some keeper connection, 

 had actually fished this sacred water many times in 

 former days. The atmosphere now lightened all over 

 the house. Domestic things went cheerily instead of 

 rather drowsily. I might, perhaps, be a duifer they 

 thought, but I was at any rate a fisherman. 



My rod had hitherto been concealed, I think, among 

 sticks, golf clubs, and umbrellas, and other accessories 

 not unpacked. It was indeed pretty hopeless weather 



H7 



