34 AN ANGLER'S HOURS m 



choice is manifold. But, after all, experi- 

 ence is the only safe guide. 



I remember spending the whole of a 

 spring day waiting for the rise by the side of 

 Sprinkling Tarn, the most gloomy piece of 

 water in Cumberland, that looks as if Nature 

 had buried some monstrous crime beneath 

 its dark water. Rumour ran that there were 

 trout in it, many and good, and I waited 

 patiently till dark, but never a fish rose, and 

 to this day I know not if there are fish there. 

 Therefore I cannot recommend it for trout, 

 but if there be any man with an unduly 

 good conceit of himself who is anxious to 

 adjust his ideas, a few spring hours by 

 Sprinkling Tarn would be just the thing for 

 him. I know no piece of scenery so certain 

 to make a man realise what a worm he is 

 when taken out of his context. There are 

 trout in the Sty Head Tarn on the pass a 

 few hundred feet below, so after he has 

 received his object-lesson and has humbled 

 himself he can do some fishing there if he 

 wishes. 



But, though I love it well, I would not 

 go to Cumberland for my May - Day. 

 Rather do I hasten as fast as express train 



