152 AN OPEN CREEL 



the lofty soul that looks at one askance because one's 

 fly floats down resting, contrary to the ideal, in lopsided 

 fashion on one wing, or because one's rod is ten feet 

 in length instead of ten feet three inches, or for any 

 other little thing that conflicts with a cherished theory. 

 But, as between one angler and another, the subject is 

 too vast to be entered upon here. Sympathy is im- 

 perfect from the very root of the matter, which is the 

 desire to catch a fish. I desire to catch a fish, and so 

 does the other man. But I do not want the other 

 man to catch my fish, and he does not want me to 

 catch his. And it may be that the matter goes further, 

 and that, while he acquiesces in my trying for my fish, 

 it pains him to see me doing it with a Wickham ; just 

 as certainly there are times when I feel sure he is not 

 likely to succeed with his own fish if he will persist 

 with a dark olive, and cannot help thinking it a pity. 

 But perhaps these little differences add interest to the 

 sport. If we were all in perfect agreement it would 

 be dull, and we might not catch more fish for the 

 perfection. 



