AUGUST ON THE IT CHEN. 175 



experience. A company of Territorials, and a 

 batch of Swedish emigrants behind a barricade 

 of luggage, a couple of frightened horses and 

 a brace of coffins, were common objects of the 

 platform. To book to Clapham and be carried 

 to Winchester without a stop, after having 

 escaped from a corridor boat train for 

 Southampton, has befallen a belated traveller 

 whose trustfulness in hurried porters has made 

 him take his seat in a crowded carriage. 



Almost everything has its compensation. 

 Saturday evening, which brings such a turmoil 

 even to Hampshire stations, draws nearly every- 

 one away from the river bank. Luckily for 

 anglers, people on holiday like each other's 

 company better than the silence of the river 

 side. They prefer the band to the bank, and 

 the cinemas to the sedges. Consequently, by 

 the time one passes through the village with 

 rod and creel raincoat and landing net, after 

 a peaceful tea at the cottage, and a desultory 

 chat with the two patient mill pool anglers who 

 fish with wasp grub, and who so often catch 

 a two pounder only a few minutes after you 

 leave them which you hear about with 

 chastened envy the following week the prospect 

 of the cool evening is everything that can be 

 desired. 



On the hatch stile are urchins, either running 

 about in wet nudity or dressing hurriedly after 

 their swim, each one telling the other how he 

 the other one will catch it from his father: or 

 mother for being so late. Above them again 



