A PECK OF TROUBLES 245 



spats, and an eye-glass, near the source of a moun- 

 tain-born streamlet ; you may see it leaning, collar- 

 less and pipe in mouth, over the chalk stream bridge ; 

 you may hear it, loud-voiced and discordant, 

 addressing you in many-tongued insult from the 

 passing char-a-banc ; it may take on a reverend and 

 misleading guise, as with whiskers eloquent of a 

 cathedral close and a hat from Messrs. Vanheem 

 and Wheeler; or it may disturb both your sport 

 and your emotions by stepping in white " tempestu- 

 ous petticoats," and brandishing a white parasol 

 along the marge of the crystal river; it may even 

 appear as what Homer called " a shameless stone," 

 hurled from a safe strategic position by some 

 probable, but unidentified, small boy. There are, 

 in fact, endless ways in which the Public may come 

 into touch with the patient men (if there be any 

 patient enough), who read these lines, and are 

 otherwise worthy to be called anglers. 



Not all these ways are to be considered as 

 altogether unfortunate, though. The saving grace 

 of humour is spread over some of them, and often 

 an incident occurs which, rightly considered, should 

 keep a man happy for quite a long time. I remember 

 one. It happened that at the end of the trout 

 season three anglers, all famous in more ways than 

 one, were sedately taking their homeward way from 

 a famous fishery on the Itchen, thinking, I make no 



