64 FLY FISHING 



that they seem to possess the month and meet 

 the eye everywhere. One is the wild rose, and 

 the other is the elder, and great is the contrast 

 between them. The commonest sort of wild 

 rose is surely the most delicate of all shrubs in 

 spite of its thorns. It is exquisitely delicate 

 in the scent, colour, form and character of its 

 flowers, and there is nothing more graceful in 

 nature than the way in which a long spray of 

 wild rose in full blossom offers its beauty to 

 be admired. I am not so fond of the elder; 

 when one is close to it there is a certain stiff 

 thickness about the bush, and a deadness of 

 colour both of leaves and flowers, and the scent 

 is heavy and spiritless. But masses of elder 

 flower at a distance have a fine foamy appear- 

 ance, and I always feel that they are doing their 

 best to honour the season. Though the sun 

 may be as hot as midsummer, everything in the 

 first half of June seems young and fresh and 

 active. Birds are singing still, and for a week or 

 two it seems as if the best of spring and summer, 

 warmth and songs, luxuriance and freshness, were 

 spread abroad so abundantly that it is almost 

 too much. The cup of happiness is full and 



