k upon
for many a long day. In a reach of water not exceeding one hundred yards
in length there will be fish enough to occupy you throughout the day.
You may catch seven or eight brace of trout, none of which are under a
pound in weight, where you did not believe any large ones existed. The
fact is, the larger fish of a trout stream are more like rats in their
habits than anything else; they stow themselves away in holes in the
bank and all sorts of inconceivable places, and are as invisible by day
as the otter itself.

That man derives the greatest enjoyment from this annual carnival among
the trout who has been tied to London all through May, sweltering in a
stuffy office and longing for the country. Though his sympathies are
bound up heart and soul in country pursuits, he has elected to "live
laborious days" in the busy haunts of men. He does it, though he hates
it; for he has sufficient insight to know that self-denial in some form
or other is the inevitable destiny of mortal man: sooner or later it has
to be undergone by all, whether we like it or not

"Quanto quisque sibi plura negaverit
Ab dis plura feret"

Horace never wrote anything truer than that, though we are not to
suppose that the second line will necessarily come true in this life.

We will imagine that our friend is a briefless barrister, but a fine,
all-round sportsman; a crack batsman, perhaps, at Eton and Oxford, or
one of whom it might be said:

"Give me the man to whom nought comes amiss,
One horse or another, that country or this--
Who through falls and bad starts undauntedly still
Rides up to the motto, 'Be with them I will.'"

There may be good sportsmen enough enjoying life throughout the country
villages of Merrie England, but in my humble opinion the _best_
sportsmen must be sought in stifling offices in London, or serving
"their country and their Queen" under the burning sun of a far country,
or maybe in the reeking atmosphere of the East End, or as missionaries
in that howling wilderness the inhospitable land of "the
heathen Chinee."

Sitting in his dusty chambers, poring over grimy books and legal
manuscripts, our "briefless" friend receives a telegram which he has
been expecting rather anxiously the last few days. As brief as he is
"briefless," it brings a flush to his cheek which has not been seen
there since that great run with the hounds last Christmas holidays. "The
fly is up; come at once."