ILEC OLIM MEMINISSE JUVABIT 273 



all its lack of fish, the picturesque stagnation of 

 Maldon has left a pleasant memory. I never 

 caught a mullet in the Arun, or a tunny anywhere, 

 yet that comely Sussex river, flowing through lush 

 meadows, from castle to pier, is as glad a retro- 

 spect as the Atlantic islands where in vain I sought 

 the mightiest game in the angler's visiting list. 



It may be that the story of the manner in which 

 a man has employed his leisure reads the riddle 

 of his failure in the sterner purposes of life. In- 

 deed, the measure of that leisure may furnish the 

 explanation. Yet he will not hug its memory 

 the less. If from time to time he looks with envy 

 at the winners in life's race, who were his equals, 

 almost perhaps his inferiors, in the days of school, 

 consolation comes with the conviction that he 

 has had, if a less profitable, at any rate a more 

 enjoyable time of it here below. Reflection may 

 also bring the blessed revelation that failure and 

 success are but relative, that yesterday's dis- 

 appointment is the solace of to-morrow, that 

 there are as good fish in the sea as ever came out 

 of it. 



Only a few weeks ago I saw the chequered buoy 

 which revolves in conflicting currents a little way 

 outside the entrance to Ramsgate Harbour, saw 

 its black-and-white shell with a friendly eye. 

 Yet for many years I could not look upon it 

 without resentment, for the suspicion rankled 



19 (2272) 



