CLEAR WATERS 



host, deeply concerned all his life with everything 

 connected with the countryside, had never, I am sure 

 he will not mind me saying, taken fishing seriously. 

 And it was all the nicer of him to give up half of his 

 busy day and tramp with rod and basket over hills and 

 dales that I might indulge my fancy unmolested. Of 

 course, he put up a cast of the overgrown Shropshire 

 patterns, and as I felt he was only fishing to keep 

 me company, it didn't seem to matter. While I as 

 naturally put up my normally sized flies, with no doubt 

 an orange dun on this occasion as leader. 



After an hour or two of hard but futile up-stream 

 fishing among alder-bushes for one solitary trout, I 

 gave it up and set out in quest of my companion in a 

 rather penitent frame of mind for bringing him all 

 this way to so little purpose. To my surprise, how- 

 ever, I found him enjoying himself amazingly. In- 

 deed, he was just landing a nice trout as I got up to 

 him, and had seven or eight shapely herring-sized 

 fish already in his basket. I don't mind admitting 

 after this lapse of years, though I often go to see him 

 still, and I doubt if he has ever fished since, that I felt 

 deeply humiliated. Where now was the orange dun ? 

 and why had I, an ardent and professed fisherman, 

 caught practically nothing ? Why, indeed ? for I 

 had laboured assiduously. But the cup even yet was 

 not quite full. ' It must be the flies,' he said ; and if 

 that, under the circumstances, was any consolation, 

 he was absolutely right, as was very soon proven. 

 For he himself had to be off home for an engage- 

 ment, but his conscience was now clear regarding the 

 owner, and it was now considered safe and proper for 

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