58 DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 



again to get all the strain I dared. I felt he was 

 making for the apron and did all I could to lift him 

 above the water that eddies back beneath the rush 

 so that he might have rough water to contend with. 

 I was just in time to get his nose above what he 

 intended to go under and his momentum took him 

 among the silky weeds that coat the apron. He 

 nosed among them as if to hide from a foe he had 

 left behind but, after much expense of strength, 

 he ultimately dropped back. He was never given 

 another chance to get deeply down, so he could 

 only struggle to the limit of my permission, until 

 his mouth opened against the stream, where he was 

 held until he turned upon his side ready for the net. 



A vain man's vanity, unlike a woman's, is im- 

 measurable, but I think there should be some 

 pardon for such an ancient form of it as being 

 puffed up at the smiling welcome of her whose 

 smiles we covet on our return from a successful 

 chase. I should have got a smile had I been fish- 

 less but there was extra pride in look and speech 

 emphasised by uplifted hands when I laid my prize 

 out, so I claim some credit for doing all I could to 

 look as little proud as possible. 



Trout cutlets, fried in bacon fat, made an appetis- 

 ing dish to which we all did justice. 



The walk to reach the old weir again, prolonged 

 by halts, was a perfect way to see the life of things 

 which had been hidden somewhat in the early 

 morning mist ; nor was I alone. 



" I praise the Frenchman, his remark was shrewd, 

 How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude ; 

 But grant me still a friend in my retreat, 

 Whom I may whisper solitude is sweet." 



