210 AN ANGLER AT LARGE 



I fell into talk with them, found them civil and, 

 the man at any rate, most willing to speak of his 

 hobby. He had marked the withy bed, it 

 appeared, when passing one day, as a likely place 

 for the Red Underwing, an insect which, he bade 

 me note, looked very fine on the sugar. I re- 

 frained from saying that it would certainly look 

 finer there than in his cursed cabinet, with a pin 

 through its thorax and its wings set out stiffly 

 at the correct entomological angle. It never does 

 any good to be offensive. This man was a respect- 

 able citizen one couldn't doubt it after looking 

 for one moment on his short side-whiskers, his 

 feeble moustache, his pince-nez and his pear- 

 shaped head. He would be a teacher in a board 

 school, or a grocer in a small way. He might 

 even sell old furniture, or keep a little bookshop. 

 But he had been a schoolmaster at one time of his 

 life, I swear it. His particular manner is only 

 acquired in one trade and it never loses its hold 

 on a man. Yes, it would have been a mistake 

 to insult him. We are all vicious in spots, and 

 because this admirable husband (he looked too 

 careful to be a father) gave way to moth-killing, 

 who was I (with a rod in my hand) to take him to 

 task. He would only have grown pink, dignified, 

 and hostile. But he would not have stopped 

 treacling. Therefore T was friendly, offered a 



