44 AN ANGLER'S HOURS m 



After he has loitered on the bridge and 

 strolled about the village for an hour or so, 

 he makes his way back to the inn and un- 

 packs his portmanteau. Then he has his 

 supper, reads a few chapters of Lorna Doone 

 before a comfortable fire, for on Exmoor it 

 is chilly at night, even at the end of April, 

 chats for half an hour with his landlord 

 about Exmoor ponies, and other peaceful 

 things, and so goes to bed, where he falls 

 asleep, lulled by the murmur of the brook 

 that runs under his window. 



Eight o'clock is quite early enough for a 

 Londoner to breakfast on May- Day down 

 here, for it has been almost, if not quite, 

 freezing in the night, and the trout will not 

 begin to rise much before ten. A brace of 

 five-ounce trout and a generous dish of eggs 

 and bacon, followed by plenty of home-made 

 bread and jam and cream, are none too 

 much for the appetite of a man who has 

 slept a whole night in Exmoor air and has 

 splashed in a tub of Exmoor water after it. 

 Moreover, he must go on the strength of 

 that meat practically the whole day, be- 

 cause he is anxious to lighten his equipment 

 as much as possible, and his packet of 



