LEST WE FORGET

I did not notice him at first sitting there on the bank half hidden by the sweet ferns and alders. He was a young man, certainly not more than in his late teens. I thought it curious that his equipment looked much older. He wore canvas waders and over his shoulder was a wicker creel. His rod was bamboo and much longer than I was accustomed to seeing. He wore a broad brimmed hat and the hat band was festooned with flies, but the patterns were not ones with which I was familiar.