192 TROUT FISHING 



tail beyond a dish does not exhaust the cardinal 

 virtues. 



Accustomed to the Penydwddwr of spring, I was 

 astonished and saddened at the stream which 

 greeted our eyes on arrival. The Colonial, who was 

 one of my companions and who has since eschewed 

 my company on fishing holidays, was of opinion 

 that it would be rather like the thing called " a 

 creek," only the creeks where he came from had 

 water in them which ran along. (I shall never get 

 quite reconciled to the notion of Greater Britain that 

 a creek is a small stream, a burn or beck ; to me the 

 word always suggests a convenient ditch by the 

 Thames into which you can run your punt.) Closer 

 inspection showed us that the Penydwddwr was 

 moving along, for " even the weariest river winds 

 somewhere safe to sea," but it was patent that the 

 fishing would be nought until what the third member 

 of the party called the " great rains " should come. 

 As for the fourteen-foot and sixteen-foot rods which 

 formed part of my armament, they were as out of 

 place by the attenuated stream as a racing eight 

 would have been upon it. I took them, blushing, 

 and hid them in a corner. 



Then we composed ourselves to await the great 

 rains. There were kingfishers, herons, and other 

 birds to be seen daily on the stream. In the little 

 wood behind the garden were three brown owls, 



