158 LINES IN PLEASANT PLACES 



without sign of fly or rising trout. Halford and Basil 

 Field were there, and we stood and bewailed the absence 

 of duns and lack of sport. We loitered there with our 

 rods spiked, and smoked sadly. I then, and not for 

 the first time, repeated the tale of my former experi- 

 ences, and at last begged Halford not to be shocked, 

 not to think me an unforgivable brute, but would he 

 give me free permission to try the wet fly in the old 

 way, and without prejudice. He at first laughingly 

 protested, but saying he would ne'er consent, con- 

 sented. I was to do my best or worst. The difficulty 

 was to find a fly that could be fished wet, and in the 

 end a Red Spinner on a No. I hook was forthcoming. 

 I thereupon followed the old plan, except that there 

 was one instead of two flies, and caught a brace of 

 three-quarter pounders before we had moved fifty yards 

 down the meadow. They were the only trout taken 

 that day. 



