AN ANGLER'S HOURS rx 



will kill even more with the modest brown 

 fly than with the drake itself. It is hard 

 to leave a rising trout without giving him 

 " something to rise for," as the pugnacious 

 urban idiom hath it ; but let the reader only 

 be patient for another half-mile of this dusty 

 high-road, and I warrant him he shall see 

 something better worth the seeing. The 

 trout in this little tributary are but midgets, 

 attaining only to some paltry two pounds or 

 so ; no bad size, of course, taking all in all, 

 and very fitting for small dry-fly work, but 

 in the fleeting carnival of the drake not 

 worthy of our steel. No, we will leave 

 them behind us and on after the shadow. 



The London road stretches out white and 

 straight. It is past mid-day, and the sun is 

 coming to his hottest ; you can see that this 

 is the most blinding half-mile of weariness 

 and dust in the world. A low hedge is on 

 either side, and not a tree casts a morsel of 

 shade. To walk for ever and ever on just 

 such a path as this would be a very fitting 

 judgement for the wicked ; add to the pic- 

 ture yon turbulent machine that comes roar- 

 ing by clad in a nimbus of dust-cloud, and 

 imagine the wicked being compelled to 



