n8 THE TROUT ARE RISING 



though an old bachelor, is very human (between 

 ourselves, I might even say susceptible). " What 

 makes you think that ?" he smilingly asked. 



" Oh," said the little lady, rt we've just come 

 from Russia, and they all wear coats like that ! " 



Very pleasing are the friendly approaches of 

 childhood. The world would be drear without 

 them. It reminded me of a little memory 

 cherished for many years. A little maid of some 

 five summers one wintry Sunday afternoon was 

 carrying and nursing a huge Teddy bear, almost 

 as big as herself. I could not but admire the 

 little fairy, all in woolly white, so devoted to her 

 charge. She evidently caught my eye as it 

 wandered from her to Teddy. She advanced 

 toward me, and with great gravity gave me a 

 piece of information, "//'j the first time lies been 

 out ! " she said. 



The fishing to which we were making lay 

 beyond Mortimer's Cross, and the journey was 

 delightful. People are apt to say of their country- 

 side, " You should see it in the Spring ! " But 

 strangers may be quite content to see Hereford- 

 shire on a sparkling, frosty day in mid-November. 

 We passed through such pretty hamlets as you 

 will only find in rural England and noted many 

 beauties. One building especially interested us. 

 It was the school at Lucton to which "The 

 Amateur Angler " went as a boy. Few writers 

 have given more pleasure to angling readers than 

 the late Mr. Edward Marston, who as " The 

 Amateur Angler " described his fishing adventures 



