ON THE ITHON 29 



that I must not fish in the first meadow; beyond 

 that I was monarch of all I could get through. 



This first tiny little meadow balked me. 

 There was no way into it a very thick tall 

 hedge the whole length of it on the roadside, 

 and a gate at the end farthest from the river. 

 That gate was chained and padlocked, and, of 

 course, barb-wired along the top. There was no 

 possibility of getting over or through or under 

 it. The strong lad who drove me suggested that 

 we might lift it off its hinges, and this after 

 much vigorous exertion we succeeded in doing. 

 I left the lad to fix up the gate, and was free to 

 begin operations. 



I started, rod and net in one hand, and water- 

 proof over my shoulder. I soon crossed the 

 meadow and reached a wood. In this wood my 

 lawful rights began, but they were of no avail. 

 The wood formed an angle with the water of 

 never less than seventy-five degrees, and came 

 sheer down to the deep river. The rugged path 

 through the wood, if path it could be called, ran 

 mostly a hundred yards above, and consisted 

 chiefly of briars, thorns, nettles, bracken, and 

 bushes; through these, on slippery shale, I 

 struggled for a quarter of a mile, and was then 

 landed in a peaceful, pretty, solitary little 

 meadow formed by the receding of the wooded 

 hill from the river side. Here I was at last down 

 at the river which I found running very deep 



