108 In Pursuit of the Trout 



fisherman. In the first place, he has nothing 

 to carry ; everything is in the punt within 

 reach of his arm, from the jug of ale and 

 stone bottles of ginger beer — which uniting 

 make a froth white as the weir foam — down- 

 wards. Then the exercise necessitated is of 

 the gentlest possible character ; there is no 

 fly-drying, and no hurrying along the bank 

 when a big fish is hooked. Neither is he 

 in his punt exposed to the jeers of passers- 

 by, like the bank fisherman, nor to the fre- 

 quent annoyance of a boat full of ill-natured 

 Cockneys spoiling his best swim — treatment 

 which in itself conduces to heat. Finally, 

 he can moor his luxurious craft within reach 

 of the delicious weir spray. Oh ! enviable 

 angler, if only the glory of the summer never 

 wasted, and youth could perpetually replenish 

 its stores, then you might sit and sit always, 

 like Theseus, though unlike him know 

 nothing save content ! 



The angler, however, knew that the sum- 

 mer evening — it being no longer June — 

 would swiftly wane, so he lost no time in 



