THE DUFFER'S FORTNIGHT 205 



I remember one snatehed with diilieulty amid the 

 stresses of war-time whicli almost beat my own 

 record of nothingness. 



It differed from previous days of the same kind 

 in that tlie train of arrival was an hour earlier and 

 that of departure an hour later, with reference to 

 the sun, than of old owing to the new summer-time 

 business. The Mayfly does not know about sunmicr- 

 time, or, if it knows, it is like those valiant North- 

 amptonsliirc farmers, who were said to have greeted 

 the new measure with contempt and contumely, 

 and does not care* 



The day was hot, distempered by fitful, thundery 

 gusts. The available shade was limited to one 

 extremely insufficient willow, hardly big enough to 

 make a cricket stump, let alone a whole bat. This 

 tree, though it did not exactly wither away like the 

 scriptural gourd, was almost equally deceptive 

 because of its immobility. In the morning and the 

 early part of the afternoon it offered a little pro- 

 tection provided I crawled round as the sun's angle 

 altered. Afterwards only by sitting in the river 

 could I put the treelet to any use as a sun filter. 

 You will deduce that I did not do this. But earlier 

 I spent a good many recumbent hours. I was 

 mostly occupied watching insects on and about the 

 water — a wonderful show of fly life. At times my 



