132 In Pursuit of the Trout 



Once in the water-meadows, however, one 

 speedily shakes off any slight sense of op- 

 pression and disgust caused by the whirling 

 dust of the roadside. Here the deep green 

 of June can never weary the eye, any more 

 than the low tunefulness of the brook can 

 the ear. 



It is pleasant to find fish rising honestly 

 to the fly directly one reaches the water-side. 

 This was the case upon arrival at the 

 Darenth, which I had not visited since an 

 uproarious day during the preceding month, 

 when to try to fish was to make sure of 

 losing one's temper together with many flies. 

 The Darenth is not by any means a stream 

 naturally adapted to fly-fishing in all its 

 most fishful lengths. On the contrary, it 

 is aggravatingly wooded at some of the best 

 points. My first fish was rising in the 

 steady, methodical way of trout when they 

 are in next to impossible places. He was 

 right under the opposite bank, and shaded 

 by a large dock which drooped down to the 

 water and formed a nice natural umbrella. 



