WINCHESTER 107 



were not to be caught easily, that with few 

 exceptions no one at school ever had caught 

 any : the traditions were of general failure to 

 which there had been one or two remarkable 

 exceptions, but even in naming these, hints 

 were not wanting that it was very unlikely that 

 any one would succeed again. Nevertheless 

 the trout were there plain to be seen, taking 

 flies, and nothing but experience could have 

 destroyed my hopes or confidence. So on the 

 opening day of the season, at the beginning of 

 March, I hurried as soon as possible into the water 

 meadows. Surely no one ever fished the Itchen 

 with greater anticipation and with less chance 

 of success. I must have been a strange 

 uncomfortable figure, in a large white straw 

 hat, a black coat, trousers and thin ungreased 

 boots, splashing in the meadow (which was 

 under water at the time), and stumbling in 

 haste into the unfamiliar maze of runnels and 

 water cuts. None of these drawbacks were fatal 

 to success. The real obstacle was that I knew 

 nothing, and had heard nothing of the dry fly, 

 and was setting to work with a whippy double- 

 handed rod of some thirteen feet in length, and 



