104 AN ANGLER'S LINES. 



brought about the downfall of my favourite 

 rod . 



Of three fish afterwards credited to my 

 companion, not one approached anywhere near 

 the desired standard. Night was now 

 enshrouding the lake in a white mantle of mist, 

 and, liberating the nine restless captives in the 

 well, we stepped ashore, bearing an empty 

 bag and a ruined rod. Maledicite! 



Although, as I stated in the opening 

 sentence of this chapter, the power of en- 

 suring any desired type of weather is denied 

 to mortals in general, and (I write feelingly) 

 anglers in particular, there are times when, 

 maybe as a set-off against the many dis- 

 appointments that they are made to endure, a 

 pitying providence bestows upon the disciples of 

 Isaak Walton " the very thing " in atmospheric 

 conditions. Not often, mark you; but 

 occasionally, very occasionally, it does so 

 happen. With our recollections of another 

 day spent on the lake, one of these 

 * happenings " is inseparably associated. 



