42 AN ANGLER'S LINES. 



COSTA. 



~T~ 1FE is a strenuous business my masters, but 

 it ,has, its compensations. There are rifts 

 in the greyness of {he day -by -day existence 

 of every toiler; breaks when the office and all 

 its cares are laid aside, and, for a while, he is 

 free! It is not always work. And if he be a 

 lover of the gentle art, with opportunities all 

 too limited for indulging in his beloved sport, 

 and the break is the result of a kindly friend's 

 welcome invitation to fish a certain water 

 jealously preserved, then, how rich life's com- 

 pensations. It is with some like thoughts to 

 these that I have watched fields and villages 

 slip by, as the Scotch Express has borne me on 

 towards ta' Costa. 



The home of Costa is Yorkshire. Its 

 Alpha, a series of springs at Keld Head; its 

 Omega, the river Rye, near Malton. Eleven 

 miles it flows between the two, as fair a chalk 

 stream as ever rejoiced the heart of a dry- 



