THE MAYFLY IN HAMPSHIRE. 169 



way back to the water was easy enough : my 

 way towards him extremely difficult and dirty. 

 Groping about in the mud I at last felt his 

 form and managed to get him out; altogether 

 a clumsy and unsporting proceeding, as he had 

 to be well washed before taking his place with 

 the others. 



On the way back I got entangled in a clump 

 of that huge weed or plant that resembles 

 rhubarb ; the great prickly leaves being well over 

 my head as I stumbled knee deep among their 

 boggy roots. Afraid to push on for fear of 

 getting into still deeper ground, I had to back 

 out, and strike a better line home across the 

 ditches, hot, itchy, dirty and wet. 



Speaking of mayfly fishing in connection with 

 the eyesight or discernment of trout, I had an 

 example the next morning that was rather 

 interesting. There is a deep and unused lock 

 in one of the side branches of the river, indeed 

 part of an old canal, the lower end to which is 

 blocked by large bushes, growing at either side 

 of the masonry; with a dense and deep muddy 

 pool between them. No one, even with thigh 

 boots or waders, could venture into it, so that 

 the place is practically unfishable excepting from 

 the lock wall some ten feet above it, in both 

 senses of the word. Walking up to the edge 

 of the lock, as I had often foolishly done on 

 previous occasions, one usually caught sight of 

 a good fish who doubled under a bush or a 

 weed before his size could be estimated. 



