LINES IN PLEASANT PLACES 



from the top bar. If there is a bramble thicket any- 

 where in the parish, or a tall patch of meadow sweet 

 in the rear, or a convenient gorse clump handy, be sure 

 his flies will find them out. Another man would coolly 

 proceed to extricate them ; he pulls and hauls, and 

 swears, carrying away his gear, and is lucky if his rod 

 is left sound. In wading he goes in sooner or. later 

 over the tops of his stockings, cracks off his flies through 

 haste in returning the line, and altogether fills his day 

 full of small, unnecessary grievances. That this is 

 possible I know full well. I have done it all myself. 

 But the minor tribulations I had in my mind when I 

 began to write this modest essay were not precisely of 

 this kind, which are the heritage of those habitual 

 unfortunates who are, in a measure, beyond hope 

 of redemption. I had the pleasure of curing one of 

 them, however, by pointing out to him the cause of 

 his chronic irritation, producing haste, and a long 

 train of inevitable ills. Anything in the shape of a 

 burden about his body chafed him ; and this being so, 

 I need scarcely add that his equipment was always 

 on the largest scale. The obvious suggestion was that 

 he should hire a boy to carry his great creel, super- 

 fluous clothes, spare rod, and landing net. By proving 

 to him that the expenses would be less than the amount 

 of losses and breakages of both tackle and temper, he 

 was induced to take my advice, and he was henceforth 

 a converted character. My theme is, rather than pal- 

 pably preventable disasters, the small accidents that 

 will happen to the most careful anglers, especially if 

 they put off their preparations to the last moment. 

 Provoking is scarcely the word for the calamity of 

 travelling a long distance by rail and road to realise 

 that you have brought everything, including odds and 

 ends that you will never use, but have left an impor- 



