IRELAND 175 



knew who she was. She must be the daughter of a 

 man to whose house I was that day going, with my 

 hostess, her aunt, whose dwelling was two miles off, 

 to luncheon. I had been told to fish the river up to 

 her father's lawn, and had done so. She had come 

 out, in the gracious Irish way, to welcome me. 

 " Adolphus ?" I remarked. "Yes; Adolphus: the 

 trout." Then, with merriment, she explained that 

 I had probably been misled. Uncle and Aunt were 

 the best people in the world ; but they lived mainly 

 in London, only now and then in Ireland, and they 

 did not know much about the river. There used 

 to be many trout, and some salmon ; but now there 

 was only one fish in the Brosna for at least two 

 miles below Ballycumber. That was Adolphus, rising 

 there; and nobody could catch him. Even the 

 poachers had given him up. 



This information, despite the piquancy of the 

 circumstances amid which it was conveyed, seemed 

 grotesque. Only one trout in the Brosna, which 

 even from the railway I had seen to be a singularly 

 handsome full -flowing river! Alack, the news, I 

 soon learned, was true. There was order all over 

 the country, but no law. No one so much as 

 thought of trying to preserve game of any kind, 

 finned or furred or feathered. Preserve game ? Any 

 man who attempted such a thing would have his 

 ricks burned and bullets through his windows. The 

 Police ? They turned their attention to the subject 

 only at the very rare times when they had absolutely 

 nothing else to do, and then their interest in it was 



