196 THE SALT OF MY LIFE 



the boats would play the game, drifting in line 

 from the buoys to the bridge, then dropping back 

 in the shallows till abreast of the lower buoy and 

 again bringing up the rear of the procession, the 

 whole moving round like the tyre of a wheel, why, 

 double the number could fish without one disturb- 

 ing another. But to play the game is the last 

 thought with some of the boatmen. The fault 

 is theirs, not that of the visitors, who know noth- 

 ing of the conditions and therefore place them 

 unreservedly in the hands of the man who rows 

 the boat. This individual knows as a rule more 

 about the inside of taprooms than of the manners 

 of bass. Backwards and forwards he rows, across 

 the river, downstream, trailing the bait against 

 a choking tide. These short cuts to glory lead, 

 like some others, to bankruptcy, for they get foul 

 of other lines, and those who have been fishing 

 in the proper way sometimes find themselves 

 compelled to use a knife rather than waste too much 

 time in unravelling knots. In the circumstances, 

 they have not the heart to cut their own line. 



Now it is obvious that the human nuisance 

 cannot be treated quite on all fours with the vege- 

 table one. Weed comes under the head of those 

 " acts of God," against which even insurance 

 agents, who, in their infinite desire to oblige, 

 cover earthly risk and most heavenly ones, make 

 no provision. When therefore weed gets across 



