44 LINES IN PLEASANT PLACES 



more run for the last. Thanks ; here you are. (Turns 

 a short, thick two-pounder out of the net into a bed 

 of wild hyacinths in the copse.) 



TERI.AN (in possession of a side stream which he 

 had won at the friendly toss after breakfast) : Fortune 

 has smiled upon me to-day. They laugh at my big 

 rod, but I make it work for me. A fish has no chance 

 with it. I saw the Parson weeded four times yesterday 

 with his little ten-foot greenheart. My fish don't weed 

 me ; they can't. Ha, ha ! Now look at that trout 

 close under the farther bank, sucking in the fat May- 

 flies with a gusto worthy of an alderman. Here I am 

 yards away in the meadow ; I am out of sight. The 

 rod seems to know that I rely upon it. I don't cast, so 

 to speak ; simply give the rod its head, as it were, and 

 there you are. (Fly alights on opposite bank, drops 

 gently, with upstanding wings ; is seized with a flourish ; 

 trout is brought firmly and rapidly over a bed of weeds, 

 never permitted to twist or turn, and attendant boy 

 nets him out with a grin on his chubby face.) Dip the 

 net a little more, Tommy ; you don't want to assault 

 a fish, only to lift him out. How many is that ? Eight 

 do you say ? Then I want no more. 



[SCENE : Straw-roofed fishing hut, as before. Fish- 

 ing men returning in straggling order. Bottles opened 

 without loss of time. Black drakes dancing in the air. 

 Surface of river marked by never a sign of fish. Flotsam 

 and jetsam of shucks drifting down, and forming in mass 

 at the eddies. Swifts and swallows exceedingly busy 

 everywhere. Sun hastening to western hill-tops. Beau- 

 tiful evening effects on field and wood, especially on 

 hawthorn grove, in the light of the hour, snow-white, 

 touched with golden gleam.] 



R. O. (handing rod to keeper, and taking creel from 

 boy) : It's all over now, Short rise to-day. We shall 



