266 TROUT FISHING 



which are quite useless to him. At last, with fury 

 in his heart and emptiness in his basket, he eats 

 his wretched sandwiches, sips from his inadequate 

 flask, and spends seven matches in the task of pipe- 

 lighting. Then he rises in his might, puts on a big 

 March brown or an alder, and becomes a wet-fly 

 man. It is sad to have to tell it, but for the rest of 

 the afternoon he " rakes " away downstream in the 

 most abandoned fashion. 



It is more cheering to finish the tale — it is really 

 a true history of a real day's angling. After some 

 hours of raking, the angler desists and retires. And 

 his summary of the day's sport given to a kind 

 inquirer is : " No, not a good day. A few little 

 things returned, that's all." '' Brother," said Mr. 

 Petulengro, " there's the wind on the heath." 

 " Brother," I would reply, " by all means. And 

 let it stay there. We don't want it on the river." 



We get it on the river, of course, in full measure, 

 as we get so many other unpleasant things that 

 make up what we call our weather. But we go on 

 fishing all the same. So it is not much use com- 

 plaining. And every now and then we get one of 

 those perfect days which make all the rest worth 

 while. So we have nothing really to complain about. 



