48 FLY FISHING 



the flower of some special iris lately planted. 

 You see these things, you know the very trees, 

 bushes, and places from which they were taken ; 

 you know the very form and aspect which the 

 beauty of the season is taking in your garden, 

 and you have the knowledge that it is passing 

 away, that you are missing for all this year things 

 which are dear to you, both for the delight of 

 seeing them afresh each season and for many old 

 associations of other years. At such moments 

 there surges within you a spirit of resentment 

 and indignation, kept in abeyance during the 

 actual hours of hard work, but asserting itself 

 at all other times, and you pass through the 

 streets feeling like an unknown alien, who has 

 no part in the bustle and life of London, and 

 cannot in the place of his exile share what seem 

 to others to be pleasures. Work alone, however 

 interesting, cannot neutralise all this, because it 

 is only partly by the mind that we live. Mental 

 effort is enough for some of the satisfaction of 

 life ; but we live also by the affections, and 

 where out-of-door things make to these the 

 irresistible appeal, which they do make to some 

 natures, it is impossible to live in London with- 



