of the rod had moulded my right hand into some characteristic shape, as typewriting is said to affect the finger-tips. I asked of my expression if it differed in some subtle manner from the expressions of men who did not fish—who shot, for instance, or collected butterflies. Was it more gentle, or, perhaps, more brutal than theirs? I could find nothing in my hands or my expression that shouted the angler, nor in anything else. There was certainly nothing more clearly piscatorial about my dress-suit than about the dress-suits of other men. Yet within ten minutes of my sitting down to dinner, my partner would say, "I think you fish." After several years, I had rejected all but one of the explanations which had occurred to me. This one follows. In each case before I was presented, my hostess must have addressed the destined woman in some such words as these: "My dear, you have a terrible trial coming to you. But he fishes. Forgive me this once; it shall never happen again. Remember, he fishes." Simultaneously with this discovery, I abandoned the dining-out habit.
There was, I remember, another thing they always said. They said it immediately after I had replied "Yes" to their observation. It was this: "I always think a fisherman must require so much patience." Then they would continue with: "I'm
