inary river districts, I find that as many men wholly neglect
their food as think too much about it. This, as I know from culpable
personal experience, is a fault. It is, however, a greater fault to
waste time in a set meal in the middle of a fishing day. Fortunately a
kindred spirit will sympathise with us when the hospitable invitation
to come up to the house to lunch is declined with thanks; but there are
times when the duty has to be done, and it often happens that the
summons comes at the precise time when sport is hot and high.

Get a good breakfast before starting; secure an honest dinner at the
finish; but beware of heavy eating meanwhile. Keep going steadily with
the rod through the livelong day, taking a slight repast as it were on
the wing just to keep body and soul from premature separation. By this
method you will remain in condition for your work, and have all the
chances of sport that the time offers you. Sandwich boxes I have long
forsworn, for, after the contents (which are seldom satisfactory) are
gone, the awkward metal shell remains bulging out your pockets, or
banging about in your basket. Once I tried to fish upon a small silver
box filled with meat lozenges. It may have been as per prospectus of
the manufacturers that I carried the essence of a flock of Southdowns
in the waistcoat pocket, but the sheep after all did not seem to have a
satisfactory effect, and a sucked lunch was not at all up to my sense
of proportion. Then I tried cold chops, or sausages, carried in a fine
white napkin; and very capital they are for the five minutes you allow
yourselves on the bridge, or by the fallen log under the hedge, when
tired nature suggests rest and refreshment. Afterwards I pinned my
faith to a couple of home-made pasties, at the same time adhering to
the fine napkin, which comes in very handy for sundry purposes when the
fodder has disappeared. To anyone who likes the excitement of a
domestic breeze, as a wind up to a fine day's sport, I can recommend
nothing better than the steady use of the household serviette for
drying the hands after the capture of every fish.

As to drink, that is too delicate a subject. My friend Halford, until
he had a fishing box of his own, and could establish "regular meals,"
carried a flask of cold coffee without milk or sugar, and to this I
pretended to attribute his keen and valuable observations upon fish and
flies. One day I told him that it was all very well