$8 IN THE VALE OF 



My landlord is a large farmer. He hunts 

 with the V. W. H. pack, and knows all the 

 country round ; he is a good angler to boot, 

 and has a good stretch of a good stream in a 

 secluded corner of Gloucestershire, where three 

 counties meet ; and it was here that I and my 

 good friend the Professor came to fish. Our 

 stream is considerably less than a hundred 

 miles away from Fairford on the Colne, the 

 haunt of artists and of anglers. I and the 

 Professor have only spent an hour or two at 

 Fairford. We had a look at the beautiful 

 church and its gorgeously-painted windows, and 

 listened to the parrot-like historical essay on the 

 paintings, from the Roman emperors to John 

 the Baptist, delivered to us by a grey-haired, 

 Roman-nosed, respectable old verger, who had 

 his long story thoroughly by heart. 



" But," says he, " I don't like to be put out. 

 Once, some years ago, when I took to the work 

 first and I wasn't so perfect as I be now, I was 

 telling all about the Roman emperors, quite 

 glib-like, when a lady pulled my arm and asked 

 me some foolish question, and I was so com- 

 pletely knocked over I couldn't remember a bit 

 after that, and I was obliged to send for my 

 wife, who knows the whole story far better than 

 me. I was vexed, to be sure." 



