OF THE FRIENDSHIP OF THE RIVER 17 



one's unspoken call, and its consolation would 

 never fail. 



The winter months and all other times when 

 trout fishing is impossible are in a sense seasons 

 of paralysis. One may be rather more inde- 

 pendent of one's river friend than one would be 

 in the unfortunate circumstances which I have 

 just imagined ; but, though others claim one's 

 attention, excluding him from one's communica- 

 tion, he bears no malice. He never sulks, think- 

 ing himself slighted. If a common friend happens 

 to engage one's attention, and the presence of 

 the river is suggested, he will come cheer- 

 fully to make a third, stay as long as the 

 others wish, promoting pleasant talk with all 

 his might, and, at a hint, will fade unostenta- 

 tiously away. He knows nothing of jealousy, 

 nothing of priorities ; he is humble, faithful, 

 always cheerful, always fresh, always the most 

 excellent of company. And one never dreams 

 of despising him for his lack of spirit, which 

 one would surely do such is man were he a 

 human being. He is like a dog, without its 

 sycophancy; like a pipe, without its perversity; like 



the supreme book, without its He is like 



the supreme book. Yet the supreme book 

 demands physical effort. Eyes tire even of 

 the supreme book. And the supreme book, too, 



