WHERE TO FISH. 103 



recrossing, always appearing and disappearing 

 at the same places. Of late years it has failed 

 me : though I have waited by the gate in the 

 gathering dusk until the cold evening air obliged 

 me to walk on, after deepening my initials on 

 the top bar, cut some seven years ago when I 

 first saw it. Nailed to a barn door perhaps by 

 some well meaning gamekeeper, has too probably 

 been its fate. 



Speaking of picturesque villages far from the 

 beaten track reminds me of Gittisham. As one 

 strikes up from Tipton St. John to the high 

 ridge above Ottery, and passing through 

 Wigaton, the road through Gittisham is not 

 the nearest way. Like the Autocrat's first walk 

 with the Schoolmistress, that is why we take it. 

 There is plenty of time to pick up the Sunday 

 train, which used to stop at Honiton at 2 p.m., 

 and get back to work after the two days' fishing. 



There is no walk I can remember which brings 

 more vividly before you the absolute desertion 

 of the country on Sunday morning. For miles 

 and miles you will not see a solitary human 

 being. What becomes of the few labourers 

 who work during the .week, I cannot think. 

 While we all talk in theory of ' back to the 

 land,' the trend of this entire England seems to 

 be to get * back to London.' Many of us 

 cannot help ourselves. I among others can 

 never sufficiently appreciate the good fortune 

 that has enabled me for so many years to enjoy 

 these week-end journeys. 



Perhaps it is the natural instinct of a City 



