ii2 THE TROUT ARE RISING 



the old man, like the true life-partner he seemed 

 to be, had gone to see and cheer up his missus in 

 hospital. She made a quick recovery, and, to the 

 old fellow's joy, was comparatively soon brought 

 back safely from Kidderminster, and able to rest 

 on the sofa in the front room. Their neighbour 

 gave us this news of them. The Major at once 

 asked him if he would take to the invalid a brace 

 of the freshly-caught grayling, a kind thought 

 which was just like him. 



On the table, whilst this is being written in 

 London, are seven photographs of the Teme in 

 the Tenbury district, taken either in October or 

 November. All carry a message of woodland 

 quiet, riverside peace. Two show the famous 

 weir on the hotel length. Bordered by trees, the 

 water falls over the weir in silvery relief. Both 

 trout and grayling haunt the spot, which is a rare 

 home for fish. Another has caught the wounded 

 Major fishing. At this weir we watched him one 

 afternoon get about ten trout and grayling the 

 trout of course being returned. We were both 

 deeply interested. The photograph shows him to 

 the life, with his intense keenness and concentra- 

 tion. As there were but few rises, he was wet-fly 

 fishing with three flies, wading on the shallow. 

 Rarely was there a surface rise to his flies, but he 

 got his fish all right. They took beneath the 

 surface without any sign, but he hooked them 

 none the less. It may be urged that trout and 

 grayling often hook themselves. They do. But 

 that was not the explanation this time. The 



