A PECK OF TROUBLES 241 



had not yet paid my penalties, and my score was 

 one smallish trout and two smallish grayling, with, 

 imposed on this defeat, an appalling disaster. 

 During the evening rise, which was not a rise but 

 a display of " oncers " (Red Spinner, all men thank 

 thee for that word !), I hooked the biggest trout I 

 ever had to do with on the Itchen. And the fly 

 came away at the end of his first rush of nigh thirty 

 yards ! Tuesday may be summed up thus : wind, 

 rain, and a twelve-and-a-half-inch grayling. And 

 so back to London, where I found that I had for- 

 gotten how to distinguish the blue-winged olives, 

 male and female. One of them had a red head, 

 but which ? 



This sort of thing repeats itself in my fishing 

 career, for I still cannot forbear to congratulate 

 myself when I have been successful, nor do I cease 

 sooner or later to regret that I was so uplifted in 

 spirit. I suppose similar ups and downs come to 

 everybody. 



There is of course no end to the fisherman's 

 troubles if one came to catalogue them, but it would 

 be a needlessly depressing task. We anglers do 

 not want any one to anatomise Melancholy for us 

 after the manner of old Burton, though it could be 

 done with the proper wealth of detail and illustra- 

 tion. Melancholy is our companion often enough, 

 without our needing to scrutinise her every feature. 



