THE PATH OF GOOD INTENTIONS 127 



have resisted them. They would have proved just 

 the thing for saving a blank in cold April, when flies 

 hatch not and the purist spikes his rod. But no 

 matter, " more was lost at Mohacs field," and we, 

 too, will spike our rod. Shall not the new year 

 make temper serene ? Very likely, moreover, we shall 

 not fish a dry-fly stream next April. For two years we 

 have vowed not to do so again ; three is a lucky 

 number, so the year which begins to-morrow should 

 see us renew that vow to some purpose. 



Alas ! the second stone is grievously out of line, 

 and it is ill-hewn besides. Still, it seems securely 

 rooted in its soft bed, and it will take much to disturb 

 it. Under it reposes that gold -bodied abomination, 

 the Wickham. No more shall timorous troutlets rise 

 to its deceitful glitter, no more shall we blush for 

 shame as we meet the cold eye of the exact-imitation 

 man ; no more shall he drag confession from us as 

 to the fly which did our brace of trout to death. 

 There will be nothing to confess. We shall have no 

 brace of trout. We shall thereby flatter him with the 

 sincerest flattery, and he will pat us on the head as 

 well-meaning young beginners. Pride will be ours ; 

 and what is a brace of trout compared with a clear 

 conscience ? Away with the insidious reasoning which 

 suggests that the Wickham is the imitation of some 

 kind of sedge. It is not ; it is a snatch-hook, a spear, 

 a trimmer, a but now it is beneath the paving-stone, 

 and of the dead we must speak no ill. 



It is odd how difficult a thing is unless you are 

 constantly doing it. Once a year is not enough to 

 keep a man in practice. The third stone is, it is true, 



