A MEMORY OF THE LUGG 121 



only got one rise in still, deep water at a bend. 

 Whether the fish was trout or grayling, I do not 

 know ; but there was such a boil as to indicate a 

 big one. Just before reeling up for the day, I 

 put on wet flies, but repentance had come too 

 late. 



The Major had a fair basket. He rejoiced 

 over one fish exceedingly " fought like a trout ! " 

 he said. The other Major, the one-armed angler, 

 also got several grayling. He fished with 

 his usual keenness and managed his rod, net and 

 fish with the dexterity which I have before 

 described. It was a real pleasure to the rest of 

 us that this valiant English gentleman, who bore 

 his wounds without complaint, was able not only 

 to hold his own in the matter of catching fish, but 

 as a rule to do better than we did. The third 

 member of the party fished hard and got a few 

 grayling also. Only the fourth but it was my 

 own fault and I shall not complain. 



It is two months since that day on the Lugg, 

 and, although not a written note was made at the 

 time, yet how clear is the scene, as I write in 

 London. The purling river, the Major's "I'm 

 in him ! " the hillsides, the woodland, the frost- 

 bound earth, the Hereford cattle, the great calm, 

 and " Oh ! have you just come from Russia, 

 please ? " Kind hostess, here is a message ot 

 thanks. 



