150 IN THE GREEN LEAF 



some stretch of reaching waters where the only 

 sounds to be heard are the splash-splash from 

 the mill weir and the rush of water from the 

 sluice-gates ; there, under the alders and willows, 

 he enjoys the peacefulness and the beauty of 

 his surroundings to his heart's content, and 

 he packs up his rod with reluctance when the 

 time comes for him to leave it all. If the 

 country is beautiful to those who are accus- 

 tomed to it, being privileged to live their lives 

 out there, what must it be to those who are only 

 able to visit it at rare intervals ! The craving 

 to "get away from it all," as they describe 

 their one day's holiday from London town, has 

 become very general, and the honest rod and 

 line fishers never do harm ; at least I have 

 never seen any done, and if they were not 

 quiet folks they would not care to go "a-fish- 

 ing" ; the matter speaks for itself. 



The very look of some streams will be enough 

 to stir your heart, even if you have never fished 

 them. One such which I visit, not to fish, but 

 merely to watch others doing so as I am still 

 a little bit critical regarding such matters is 

 all that an ideal roach stream ought to be. 

 There stands the grey mill, with its eel-stage, 

 alder-shadowed above, and the trees reflected 



