OF TWO KEEPERS 31 



unkind word of any living soul or dead one, for 

 that matter. He tolerates everybody, rejoices 

 in their successes, unaffectedly laments their dis- 

 appointments. Of an evening he takes his 

 relaxation among the rabbits. And he cannot 

 fish, and never attempts to accompany an angler. 



I say, he cannot fish. 



And he never attempts to accompany an angler. 



I will now tell you of another river keeper, that 

 you may understand the fullness of the last-named 

 virtues which are Joe's. 



This adventure befell me because one night 

 a kindly-disposed man offered me a day on some 

 priceless water which he had in Hampshire. I 

 was going to Scotland or Manchester or one of 

 those places where there are no chalk streams 

 almost immediately, but I could just sandwich in 

 my day if I took it on the morrow. Therefore 

 I hardly went to bed at all, and at the hour when 

 I was in the habit of recomposing myself to the 

 slumber from which a persistent yet dispirited 

 housemaid had waked me, I got out of the down 

 train into God's second county. 



The wind blew soft from the south-west, and 

 the sky looked as if the sun were scotched for the 

 day. I told myself that I should certainly catch 

 a great many trout, and I almost believed it. 

 I swore that an angler's is the only incomparable 



