EARLY DAYS 11 



the landscape of the past, all fascinating in their 

 way, and some of them curious. There was one 

 which meandered into the sea in a Pembrokeshire 

 bay, tolerably well known now, but in those days a 

 long way from railways and the general public. I 

 do not remember ever catching a fish out of that 

 stream. 



It ran at any rate, all of it which I explored 

 sinuously through the marshy flats and its banks 

 quaked like anything. Even the most cautious 

 approach to the water seemed to spread a panic 

 among its inhabitants, and I could see their vanish- 

 ing forms just leaving every corner when I got to it. 

 The tragedy of it was that they were much longer 

 than the forms which used occasionally to vanish 

 before me in the proper river a mile away. Doubtless 

 they were not very big fish, but very likely they 

 may have averaged a quarter of a pound, which is 

 considerable for that part of the world. Just 

 often enough to keep my determination alive I got 

 the pull of one, usually by dibbling a worm over the 

 bank before I approached it, a proceeding calling 

 for self-restraint. The pull would be full of vigour 

 and impressive, but it never came to anything. 

 I was a trout fisher then of the fortiter in re 

 type, which scores no great successes in circum- 

 stances where subtlety is required. Besides, the 

 excitement of a bite after long disappointment 



