AN OLD MAN'S HOLIDAYS 



CHAPTER I 



JSASTER FLY FISHING ON THE ITCHEN 

 April 1898 



iT is now about seven months since last I 

 had the gratification of holding a fly rod 

 in my hand, and then it was in the rocky 

 bed of the pleasant Barle. We came down here on 

 April 6, " Piscator " and I, to our old quarters on 

 the Itchen I with the pleasurable anticipations of 

 an " amateur? he with the doubt and misgiving of 

 bottled-up experience. I looked forward to bright 

 sunshine, green meadows, the songs of birds, and 

 the hum of bees on the willow catkins. He, with 

 the wisdom of a sage, foretelling that, whatever the 

 weather may be, we were at least a month too early 

 for the aristocratic trout that inhabit the Itchen. 



Our first afternoon was fine and breezy, but there 

 was no fly on the water, and, therefore, nothing for 



B 



