18 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER 



ditions, and the angler knows it. The water holds no 

 surprises. It conceals no mystery. The number of fish 

 is known ; they can be counted. Since so many have 

 been put in, it suffices to subtract the number taken out 

 to arrive at that which remains — making, of course, 

 some allowance for a few the manner of whose dis- 

 solution has not been revealed to us. The trout are 

 intimates, and in fraudulently compassing their end, the 

 angler has the unpleasant feeling that, in the beautiful 

 language of God's Own Country, he is playing it low 

 down on them. He is taking; a mean advantage of 

 their confidence. 



In one of her charming letters to her daughter 

 Madame de Grignan, Madame de Sevigne writes : 

 " Vous passez par dessus la possession de ce qu'on 

 desire pour y voir la separation ; " and, she continues, 

 " Quand on a ce qu'on desire, on est plus pres de le 

 perdre." Madame de Grignan was "si philosophe." 

 On " ce qu'on desire," she bestowed a thoughtfully 

 measured affection. That she might be spared the 

 pain inseparable from their loss, she was careful to 

 avoid too deep an interest in the things of time. 

 Unhappily, we are not all possessed of her philosophy, 

 or, as it was called by those who saw her through eyes 

 other than a mother's, her frigid temperament. Our 



