1909 THE TROUT ARE RISING 
HaveI my . - Odourless paraffin and line 
greaser? 
HaveI my . . Fishing bag? 
HaveI my . . Landing net? 
HaveI my . . Waders ? 
HaveI my . . Wading socks ? 
HaveI my . . Brogues? 
HaveImy . . Sandwiches ? 
HaveI my . . Refreshment ? 
Once, when I was fishing the Onny in Shrop- 
shire, I had, not a blank day, but a day which 
looked like having a blank in it. I had forgotten 
my luncheon ; and I did not realize it until I was 
miles away from the hotel. The sandwiches I 
knew had been carefully put ready for me, but, in 
the rush of starting and with the car waiting to 
take me to the waterside, I had omitted to pick 
them up. After a hard morning’s fishing in air 
which acts like a tonic, the ministry of the interior 
reminds one if luncheon has been missed. It was 
about 2 o'clock. I might, perhaps, have lit a fire 
and done a trout to a turn—for some nice trout 
had been caught—but trout by itself lacks some- 
thing. I set off to explore the resources of the 
country. 
Coming at last to a cottage by the roadside 
I approached it. By the garden gate was a little 
maid of about fourteen, hard at work, her face 
“like morning roses newly washed with dew.” 
Would she, I entreated, please go and ask mother 
if she could kindly supply a passing fisherman 
with a little bread and butter and a cup of tea, as 
he had forgotten to bring his luncheon? Off 
