270 THE TROUT ARE RISING 
folk were in possession, and an array of snowy linen 
on the bank testified to strenuous hours, It recalled 
an incident of old Severn days, when one of our 
party, arrived at a promising spot only to find a 
washerwoman in possession, inquired if there were 
not other places in the river where she could do 
her washing, only to receive in reply the poser: 
“ And aren’t there plenty of other places where 
you can do your fishing ?” 
It is good to see such a river—perennial, too 
—as the Wildebeeste. Free from bushes, it was 
easy to fish, though no better in this respect than 
the Mooi of Natal. Current and colour were 
alike good, and already we felt glad at having 
trusted to the “ spritely infusion.” Nevertheless, 
three or four days’ fishing yielded but little sport, 
though an hour before sunset small rainbows rose 
freely at practically any wet fly. However, new 
fishing grounds were calling to us from Maclear ; 
so, with Ugie held in reserve for a return visit, off 
we went by the winding railway to Maclear, well 
known to Witwatersrand mining circles as a 
recruiting depdét for native labour. Two ’buses 
plied for patrons of the two hotels at Maclear. 
Long mail-cart journeys by road are a feature of 
the country. We had been lucky at Ugie in 
meeting anglers and the same luck was with us at 
Maclear. Incidentally we met a rector, a Devon- 
shire man, in whom was a love of all men, 
especially fishermen. This good man was indeed 
helpful. At the same time we met a descendant, 
Manley by name, of the settlers of 1820 (Eastern 
