i 9 4 THE TROUT ARE RISING 



scarlet poppies, or the " stubbles dotted o'er with 

 sheaves." In autumn, of course, nature's hues 

 are so wonderful that a day stolen from fishing 

 for a country walk is not regretted. The pursuit 

 of grayling on the morrow will be all the more 

 enjoyed. It is noticeable how often one's wander- 

 ings on these <f off days " bring one to the old 

 grey church which is so essential a feature of 

 rural England. Mellowed by time, with the 

 atmosphere of centuries of prayer and praise about 

 its ancient stones, the old village church is a 

 refreshment to mind and soul. Izaak Walton 

 must have spent many hours in and about the 

 precincts. 



When fishing one must obviously take the 

 luck of the game as it comes. The more cheer- 

 fully this is recognized, the more is the enjoyment. 

 Laughter is a good cure for misfortune, if you can 

 apply it. It calls for some measure of philosophy, 

 but the thing is possible. 1 remember one ex- 

 cellent fisherman, a parson, who told me of an 

 unfortunate day in Natal when he lost fish after 

 fish, an unusual thing for him, but at last got 

 hold of a big one which was well hooked and felt 

 like a certainty. And then the gut, frayed perhaps 

 by earlier contests, parted and the fish was gone. 

 " It had been such a run of disasters," said he, 

 " all the afternoon, and this was the climax. I 

 just burst out laughing." 



Sometimes the trout rise freely but with 

 singular consistency every fish may be missed or 

 only just pricked. Possibly one fails to strike at 



