98 AN ANGLER'S HOURS vi 



the only week of spring weather that graced 

 the year 1903, insinuated by a stroke of 

 pleasing humour into the middle of Feb- 

 ruary, where none but I could find it. When, 

 an hour and a half afterwards, I got out at 

 the station for which I was bound, the sun 

 shone and the air was like wine, the wine 

 of the South with the chill taken off. And 

 when, yet an hour later, I reached the river 

 bank, I sat on a stile, reflected that the 

 world is indeed good, and looked round for 

 May-flies. 



But, be the sun never so warm and an 

 overcoat never so embarrassing, it is not 

 given to mortal angler to see May-flies on 

 the Kennet in February ; if it were they 

 would be vain, and a salted dace was more 

 appropriate to the season. There was no 

 wind, but the river was of good height and 

 colour, so the chance of a fish or two was 

 not so bad. It remained a chance, however, 

 for neither by spinning nor trolling with 

 snap-tackle was a run gained in the whole 

 length of water at my disposal, though it 

 must be confessed that I did not overwork 

 myself. I was a convalescent, after all, 

 conscience admitted, and had a perfect right 



