134 AN ANGLER'S YEAR 



stuffy court, where yesterday, or to-morrow, wigless from 

 the heat, he may be endeavouring to entrap another and 

 perhaps less wily subject ? He is busy resting his over- 

 wrought brain by letting it lie fallow, while his lower 

 faculties are being exercised in another manner, with 

 benefit to both in the long run. Most of us have heard, 

 seen, or read of the Indian fakir, who by muscular power 

 maintains the body in one position for so long a period 

 that at length it becomes fixed in the attitude, and unable 

 to resume its natural pose. So it is with the mind ; if 

 we keep the mental bow too long strung it refuses to 

 straighten ; but allow it to relax occasionally and its 

 original elasticity remains. A quiet evening's fishing is 

 to the town dweller but the needful relaxation of the bow 

 which enables it to do better work and retain its 

 elasticity. So to cure my headache I jumped into the 

 train, and away to my fishing. 



" Where is it ? " is the first question, and I will try to 

 answer without saying too much. It is on the Chess, 

 less than twenty miles from London, on a good cycling 

 road, and is one of those strictly preserved short lengths, 

 the rights of which are occasionally to be let. I have said 

 " occasionally " because, as a rule, they are snapped up at 

 once by the residents. I have a cup of tea at the mill on 

 arrival, and sally out about a quarter to seven to fish the 

 little tumbling bay. Putting up one of Holland's double- 

 winged Coachmen on a 00 hook, I sit down to wait. 

 Over against the camp-shedding, a short 20ft. way, there 

 is a little boil, and the fly goes over it promptly. Down 

 it floats cockily, sitting "the water like a thing of life." 

 Another boil, a strike, a dash, and out jumps a nice 

 little fish. I play him downstream, net him, and 

 measure ; his total length is not 13in., so back he goes, 

 to grow bigger for next year. About a yard higher there 

 is a good rise under the shedding, and a decent cast 

 raises and hooks the fish first time. Away up into the 

 rush of the weir he goes, with a little ten-foot Leonard 

 nicely curved ; then a plunge, and back he comes at full 

 speed. There is no room below, for a great willow over- 

 hangs the water, which, indeed, passes at this point 



