272 THE TROUT ARE RISING 



looked like a watercress bed. A Zulu fly 

 secured this trout and he weighed exactly I Ib. 

 Higher up the stream was a valley so picturesque 

 that it was promptly christened Lorna Doone 

 glen. Here, in mountainous surroundings, the 

 water ran deeper, the trout somewhat bigger ; 

 though the only real alderman touched was one 

 risen by the Scotsman who, when I rejoined him 

 near the spot, was saying little, but thinking 

 deeply. He had hooked a big trout in a pool 

 by a rock, and after he had played the fish 

 for a minute or so the line came back the hook 

 had broken. Asked if he had committed himself 

 verbally, he owned up like a man, and when 

 some of the grief had passed away he estimated 

 his fish at between 3 Ibs. and 4 Ibs. 



Happy days were those spent on this farm, 

 with its stretch of three or four miles of fishing ; 

 and for a holiday nothing could be better than the 

 wholesomeness of the country, with the peace that 

 was spread over all. When caves occurred near the 

 water, rock pigeons were sometimes to be heard. 

 Their call ("love in search of a word") corre- 

 sponding as it does to the cooing of the wood- 

 pigeon, carried the listener to quiet English 

 woods. In the Lorna Doone glen were caves on 

 whose sides bushmen's paintings were to be seen, 

 wild animals, and other reminders of the chase, 

 being depicted on the rude canvas. When the 

 time came to leave and we had a warm Colonial 

 welcome to stay longer it was with regret that 

 we went. The kindness of our two young 



