IX 

 A MAY-FLY DAY 



IT seems only a day or two it is really 

 many weeks since I was splashing along 

 the banks of this stream one bitterly cold day, 

 searching for pike, and the first swallow appeared 

 as a promise of what was to come. Then, 

 suddenly, came the spring, and the gorgeous 

 marsh-marigolds and delicate lady's-smock 

 showed in the rich water-meadow grass. There 

 were primroses and wood-anemones in the withy- 

 beds. Now summer has come ; the grass has 

 sprung up nearly a foot in the warm sunshine, 

 and it is filled with wild flowers innumerable, of 

 names known and unknown to me. The whole 

 valley is resounding w r ith the monotonous note 

 of the cuckoo, and the air is filled with the song 

 of birds ; the sound of bells just reaches me from 

 an ancient church-tower in the distance. It 

 has been a wonderful day's fishing in these 

 crystal waters, which now flow slowly in the 

 long stretches, faster in the runnels between 



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