A PECK OF TROUBLES 227 



trout rising, to fetch him up, and to hook him. 

 And the next thing I knew was that he had gone, fly, 

 points, article and all. After that I made a little 

 seeming of fishing with a big Wickham, took no 

 good out of it, and descended to a big March brown 

 fished wet. The March brown flew away in the 

 air, and then I gave it up, and went away to the 

 canal to try for some of the big chub. And then 

 I went away altogether. 



Troubles which arise from one's own forgetfulness 

 or foolishness are, of course, hard to bear, but one 

 is forced to admit that they are deserved. There 

 are other troubles, however, which are not, so far 

 as one can honestly judge, due to one's own short- 

 comings but seem to be the work of a malign Provi- 

 dence. Possibly there is something meteorological 

 at the back of some of them. 



There are several matters which at intervals 

 puzzle me as well as annoy. One is the occasional 

 unwillingness of my lines to float for more than a 

 short time. The same lines, dressed with the same 

 unguents, float quite well at other times. They do 

 not seem to be unduly worn, and each has its proper 

 period of rest and drying, but on some days they 

 all behave badly. It may be something to do with 

 the weather, but what I could not say. 



Perhaps the trouble is more noticeable when there 

 has been a good deal of thundery weather. 



