

CHAPTER VIII 



SPRING RAMBLES 

 May 1899 



' Y days for fly fishing are few and far between, 

 and when they come round they are 

 generally the worst days in the month. 

 Trout fishing on the Teme begins in March, so I 

 thought that by the end of April I might have a 

 chance. Having the privilege of fishing some 

 preserved water, I ran down there. I fished the 

 whole length, about two miles. I never saw a fly 

 on the water or a single rise. What can one do 

 with floating flies in such a case? I met the 

 keeper he was fishing he said he had fished that 

 stretch of water, man and boy, for fifty years, 

 and he had never known such a season as this. 

 He had fished that morning for two hours, and, 

 like me, had caught nothing. He was fishing 

 wet fly, and he knew how to do it. I was 

 immensely consoled, for I had seriously begun to 

 consider whether it was my fault or the fault of the 



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