164 GOLDEN DAYS 



not drag in our friend Voltaire, but phrase 

 the adage as if it were your own — just Uke 

 this: ^^Ha-ha^ Monsieur! il faut cultiver 

 son jar din.'' Monsieur will be delighted, 

 scraping the loam off his sabots on the 

 delved spade ; he'll shake you by both 

 hands, and then search beneath his thread- 

 bare rusty soutane for his snuff-box. At 

 all costs you must take a pinch, no matter 

 where it may find its way ; for now the 

 old man is talking garrulously as he toddles 

 down the nut-walk by your side towards 

 the open lawn, the stone seat, and Jean 

 Pierre — you'll sit between these two and 

 hear their talk merged with the murmur 

 of the river. Every now and then will 

 a great fish break surface with a heavy 

 roll and tumble. Oh no, although they 

 show themselves you cannot take these 

 salmon here. Many have tried and failed 

 — with fly and prawn and minnow — and 

 yet there is another way, on still warm 

 summer nights. A branch of gorse well 

 tarred will make a famous flare. . . . At 

 this point the cure always winks, and then 

 will Jean Pierre chuckle — of course such 

 trues de vieille braconne might be practised 



