A May Day's Angling 93 



the dust and din of town life, the oppressive 

 sense of the great city, until he had reached 

 a spot situated at a considerable distance 

 from even the outskirts of London. Wan- 

 dering in its vicinity, even in the greenest 

 and peacefulest of lanes, he was irresistibly 

 drawn towards the unrestful city as by a 

 magnet. Others find, I think, that it is not 

 so much distance as time which they re- 

 quire to get clear of the grip of London. 



Half an hour after alighting from the 

 train, I was on the look-out for rising trout, 

 having driven a couple of miles through 

 a typical piece of Hertfordshire scenery 

 and through a cloud of dust — the one 

 drawback to a fresh and brilliant May 

 morning. The stream might be deemed 

 scarcely worthy of a name by those who 

 swear by the great rivers of the north 

 country ; just a quiet-flowing brook, often 

 easily hidden behind a slender hedge, and, 

 save here and there by some little white 

 mill, rarely breaking into very audible 

 music. With wading-stockings on you may 



