286 THE TROUT ARE RISING 
time, and visual memory had done its kindly 
work, 
The Blue Nile has many moods, and one day 
it was in peaceful humour, having a silvery look ; 
its main characteristic then was that of a gliding 
river—and it awakened a clear vision of the Itchen 
in the meadow-lands at Winchester, and of the 
Avon at Amesbury. A group of palm trees 
somehow made one see again the Twelve Apostles, 
a row of poplars alongside the main road between 
Buildwas and Iron-Bridge in the Severn valley. 
Again, to quote an instance of the past happily 
persisting, the sight of a sakieh at work on 
the Nile at Khartoum somehow caused a mill- 
wheel at Bibury to occur to memory, though the 
likeness was not strong, the sakieh dating back, 
in type at any rate, to the days of Joseph, while 
the mill-wheel at Bibury is comparatively modern. 
The point, however, is the same : that on a fishing 
excursion Nature takes photographs for the fisher- 
man through the medium of his eyes—both 
physical and mental—the negative is mysteriously 
stored away, and long afterwards the fully- 
developed photograph is presented in a flash, and 
the presentation inspires a sportsman’s grace for 
good things received from meadow and from 
stream—from rod and line and landing net. 
POSTSCRIPT 
In January of this year (1920), I was on top 
of a bus going over London Bridge. I heard a 
