94 THE TROUT ARE RISING 



On the Monday we had a good half-day at 

 the fishing. The cartage contractor soon got 

 into trouble with his float, but the saving grace 

 of humour impelled him to suggest a visit to one 

 of these good-natured farmers " to borrow a milk 

 float." The plumber was happy : " Oh, I'm 

 quite at home, plumbing the depth ; it keeps my 

 hand in." No luck came to the share of either. 

 No merry stabbing of the water, no disappearance 

 of the quill, took place this time. The cartage 

 contractor, in rendering his report, was sparkling, 

 " And I had given the fish my telephone number, 

 too ! Being now in a brewing county, I thought 

 it appropriate f Hop 2386': it seemed a sure 

 way to get Mine engaged." Neither was down- 

 hearted ; each looked to a glorious morrow. The 

 grayling were lying at that season chiefly in the 

 tails of the fords, and, as bottom fishers are 

 restricted to the bankside, it is difficult for them 

 to get the best spots. But there was no lack 

 of fish, for the Teme is an ideal stream for gray- 

 ling, and is well stocked with them. My efforts 

 with the fly proved unavailing for some time, 

 though an occasional fish came short at me. Two 

 fly-fishermen passed. One had done nothing : the 

 other had three brace, though " coming short " was 

 his verdict, too. 



But at length my blank was broken. Off a 

 shallow a good grayling, though not rising, was 

 to be seen, and, as soon as the dry fly, a pattern 

 as much like a red quill as the box supplied, fell 

 over him, he made an upward dart, and the rest 



