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MOUNTAIN, MEADOW, & MERE

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"THE ANGLKK's rest."

MOUNTAIN, MEADOW, & MERE

A SEPdES OF OUTDOOR SKETCHES OF SPORT,
SCENERY, ADVENTURES, AND NATURAL HISTORY.

By G. Christopher Davies

WITH 16 ILLUSTRATIONS BY BOSWORTH W. HARCOURT

SECOND EDITION

Henry S. King & Co.
65 CoRNHiLL & 12 Paternoster Row, London

1874

(All rkjhts reserved.)

PREFACE

Many of the articles contained in this little volume
originally appeared in the "Field" and some Magazines,
to the several proprietors of which I am indebted for
permission to republish my sketches.

I take this opportunity of acknowledging the un-
varying kindness and courtesy of the Editor of the
" Field " to me during my literary connection with
that paper.

The four caricature vignettes are from the pencil of
Mr. W. H. Woods, of Merton, Thetford, whose keen
perception of the ludicrous and capacity for " taking
a rise " out of any one are well known to his friends.

September, 1873.

CONTENTS

PAGE

I. Introduction . ... . . 1

II. Carp Pishing 6

III. The Shropshire Mekes 13

IV. Pan 23

V. SCOULTON GXJLLERY 27

VI. Wild Shooting ....... 40

VII. Spring . . . . , 53

VIII. The Tench Pool 55

IX. Watching for Wild Ducks 62

X. A Dog Hunt on the Berwyns .... 72

XI. Verniewside 85

XII. Aphrodite 95

XIII. Burn Fishing 97

XIV. Llyn Cadws . 107

XV. A Morass Adventure 121

XVI. Breydon Jack 130

XVII. Winter-time on the Meres 145

XVIII. At "The Angler's Eest" 152

XIX. LoNG.LiNE Fishing off Ckomek .... 173

XX. Life in Death 185

XXI. Harvest-time . 188

XXII. Rabbiting 190

XXIII. A Day's Pike Fishing in Norfolk .... 197

XXIV. A Whiff of the Sea 205

XXV. The Angler's Winter 216

XXVI. A November Afternoon 225

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

"The Angler's Rest" .... FronfAspiece.

The Berwyns To face page 72

WlNTER-TlME ON THE MeRES ... „ 145

Rabbiting „ 190

Vignettes.

The Lock

Caught at Last ....

Sport Indeed ! . . . .

The Yellow Wagtail

Dog Worrying Sheep .

A Tangled Skein ....

Wherries on the Yare

A Rise at Last ....

Cromer Crab. boat

Life in Death .....

Old Tower on the Yare, Norwich

The Stile

Page

22

52
53
84
106
144
172
184
185
204
225

mou:n^tai:n', meadow, and mere

I.

INTRODUCTION

" Devotion to the beauty of the external forms of Nature affords to
men of great excitability and a passionate sense of the beautiful an
escape from many dangers and disturbances. The appetite for the
beautiful in such men must be fed ; and human beauty is a diet
which leads to excessive stimulation, frequent vicissitudes of feeling
at all events, and in every probability to the excitement of bitter and
turbulent passions. The love and admiration of nature leads /rom all
these ; being, in truth, the safe outlet for every excess of sensibility.
The pleasure so derived appears to be, of all human pleasures, the
most exempt from correlative pains."

One day, while reading Thomas Ballantyne's " Essays
in Mosaic," I came across the above passage excerpted
from Taylor's " Notes from Books," and it struck me
that I could not do better than take it as a text, to help
me to explain why and how the following papers came
to be writtea

Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

I need scarcely say that I have always found a
delight in the beauty of the daisy-starred meadows, the
heath-covered hills, the cool green woods, and the mur-
muring waters. Blue-and-white skies, or skies re-
splendent with sunrise or sunset hues, are pictures that
always charm me. Most of all do I delight in being by
running water. I love to sit on a grey boulder while
the torrent dashes past me, its roar drowning all other
sound. It seems to absorb all one's faculties, and one
sits there and rests — perhaps dreams. TJiinking is out
of the question. It wiU be seen, therefore, that I agi'ee
very fully with the spirit of the extract I have quoted.
I have one emendation to make, however. The love
of Nature pure and simple — that is, the going out into
the country for the express purpose of enjoying her
wonderful beauty alone — is apt to develop a morbid
spirit. It wiU lead to a despising of anything else, which,
by contrast to "Nature" and the " natural," can be called
"human" or "artificial." It will in eflfect lead to
" Nature-worship;" and, instead of leading up to the
adoration of the Creator through His works, \Yi\\ set
His works up as the object of worship. It wiU be con-
tent with a god who has his being in leaves and stones.
I am satisfied I take no exaggerated view of this ten-
dency. Therefore I say, let the pursuit of Nature's
beauty go hand in hand with some other pursuit, or

Inti'oduction

even be subservient to it. Whether it be the harmless
occupations of botanizing, geologizing, or butterfly-
hunting, or the more exciting and dangerous sports of
shooting, fishing, or boating, there ought to be some-
thing to occupy part of one's attention and prevent
all one's energies being devoted to pure admiration
and eye-pleasing.

Most men have sporting instincts at heart, and there-
fore they will agree with me in my recommendation of
sport ; but there are some poor puling creatures, who
sit down and weep sentimentally over the sufierings of
the sportman's victims. I class them with those mem-
bers of the female sex (I don't like to call them by the
lionest old-fashioned term of " women ") who agitate
questions they know nothing about. The Saturday
Revieiu calls the latter the " Shrieking Sisterhood." I
should call the others " The Weeping Brotherhood." I
am not going to bore my readers with a learned dis-
quisition on the alleged ci'uelty of sport. I have made
up my mind as to what is cruel and what is not, and
I strive to avoid the former. It is a question for every
man's own conscience.

Well, then, suppose a man to be an admirer of
Nature, and a sportsman. Suppose him also to have
the knack of putting down his impressions in writing.
Is it to be wondered at that he should do so — to cnve

Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

his friends some small share of the pleasure he has
himself derived ? I fancy I am not alone in the feeling
I experience when I am enjoying some lovely scene,
or taking place in some exciting sport, that I should
enjoy it more if some friend were with me to share
it. I liave often felt that part of the pleasure of
looking at an exquisite picture was lost to me because
some bosom friend was not by my side to see it also.

It was that feeling which induced me to wi'ite these
papers in the first instance, and it is that feeling which
has led to their being brought out in a collected form.
I utterly disclaim any literary ambition with regard to
them.

Many people have a mistaken notion that when a
man dabbles in literature he must of necessity neglect
his business. Can anything be more absurd ? Take
the case of a bachelor in lodoino^s. What is he to do
in the long winter evenings after his day's work is
over ? Why not amuse himself as well by writing an
article as in any other way ? Yet, if it is known that
he does so, he comes to be looked upon as an idle
fellow, rather clever, perhaps, but decidedly not a
business man. If, on the contrary, he does nothing-
different to the majority of young men, but spends his
time in a billiard-room or debating class — both which
ways of spending an evening require rather more time

Introduction

and attention than writing an article — he escapes
condemnation.

One word as to the frequent use of the word " I " in
this book. It has an egotistical sound about it, and I
have striven to avoid it as much as possible ; but in
papers like these it is manifestly impossible to do with-
out its constant use.

As I wrote these articles the freshness of the hills and
streams seemed to be wafted over me by memory's aid.
I could not wish them to do more than to bring similar
impressions to the reader.

THE LOCK..

Mountain, Meadow, ajid Mere

11.

CAEP FISHING

Well can I remember, during a bird-nesting foray,
when a chosen friend and I had rambled far from the
town, up beyond the waving uplands into the heart of
the Welsh border hills, coming upon a lonely tarn from
which a heron slowly flew at our approach, and gazing
with a feeling akin to awe at the black water, the tall
rushes and flags, and the belt of fir-trees that encircled
three sides of it. The feeling of awe was changed to one
of wonderment and delight as we saw, circling about and
breaking the calmness of the water, dozens and dozens
of big brown back-fins projecting above the surface.
We had little difficulty in seeing that they belonged
to mighty carp. I am not usually a good hand at
keeping a secret, but the secret of that pool and its
denizens we kept to ourselves for many a year — even

Carp Fishing 7

until the fear of rheumatism forbade us to fish it often
ourselves, for it could only be fished by wading knee-
deep among the rushes. Strictly speaking, we had no
right to wet a line there ; but, from visiting it often
without interruption, we came to look upon the tarn
as our exclusive property.

What heavy burdens we oftentimes carried home ! —
never a fish under a pound and a half, many up to four
pounds, but few beyond that weight. The pool, I sup-
pose, had never been fished except by us for the last
thirty years, and the very abundance of the fish pre-
vented them growing to any enormous size ; although
now and then, out at the end of the flags, where we
could never reach, a head would pop up to suck some
insect down, with a sounding gulp that would make
our hearts beat faster with excitement than they have
ever done since.

Our tarn was situated in a hollow on a top of a hill,
and had a very boggy and treacherous bottom. More
than once have we stood in one place too long, till the
flooring of matted roots has sunk lower and lower, and
at last, with a horrid swirl of black mud, has given way,
when one or other of us, but for the ready hand and
active help of his companion, might have found himself
fattening the fishes without hope of recovery. Once
we set some night-lines there. On a Friday evening

Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

in June we laid two dozen of them down, baited with
large lobwonns. On the Saturday half-holiday we
took them up. Seventeen carp, from 21bs. to 41bs. in
weight, lay gasping on the soft carpet of fir-needles.
We caught seven or eight more with the legitimate rod
and line, and, what is more, we actually carried the
whole of them home. We were a bit ashamed of that
exploit, though. It was all very well once in a way,
but too unsportsmanlike to be repeated often. It be-
came a question what to do with the fish after we had
caught them ; but the avidity with which our poorei-
neighbours received the present of a few decided the
use to which to apply our spoil. To tell the truth, we
didn't much care about eating any ourselves. They
had a muddy taste, which we found very disagreeable.
After such wholesale slaughter, it will be a relief to the
reader to see a picture of an ordinary day's sport. W^e
always found that a dull, warm day, with now and then
a shower, was the best, and that thunder in the air
rather improved our chances. On such days, if we
could procure a half-holiday, we would set ofi" at a long,
swinging pace (our wind and muscle were in capital
condition then), and in due time reach the tarn. As I
have said, on three sides it was surrounded by a wood,
and on the other side was so shallow and muddy that
it was " unfishable." Having reached the tarn, pray,

Carp Fishmg 9

reader, accompany us in imagination as we dive into
the wood and rig up our tackle — two rods each, long
and slender, with fine lines, light porcupine-quill floats,
no shot, and a moderate-sized red worm for bait. Off"
with our shoes and stockings, tuck up our trousers,
then cautiously and quietly pushing through the under-
wood, we enter the water and wade through the flags,
which reach as high as our heads ; then, fixing each foot
firmly on a root, we drop the lines as gently as possible
into the water. How quiet everything is ! A heron
stands patiently on the shallows, and another is trying,
with ludicrously unsuccessful efibrts, to perch on the
slight topmost branches of a fir. A wild duck leads
her brood by the rushes, while nodding water-hens and
white-headed coots intersect the water. What curious
little black balls the young water-hens are ! Hillo !
what's that ? A splash that echoes through the woods,
and a little black ball has gone down the hungry maw
of a pike, the only one in the pool, I think — at least, I
could never hook one of its descendants or brothers and
sisters, although I have tried early and late, and the
haunt of that monster is too far for me to cast. He hes
cheek by jowl with the big carp. No bites yet, and
the floats lie as still on the water as if there was never
a fish in the pool, and we fall into a reverie, as we gaze
up at one, two, aye, three kestrels hovering above us.

I o Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

How very still it has suddenly become, and how dark,
as the thunder-cloud throws its shadows on the pool !
I am actually afraid of breaking the stillness by shout-
ing to Campbell over yonder to ask what sport he has
had. All the water birds have sought the shelter of
the rushes, and I begin to feel quite uncanny, when I
am startled by a sudden twitch of the loop of running
line which I am absently twisting about my finger.
See ! the float has disappeared ; strike ! and up comes
the line — no fish. In with it again ! We must be more
watchful ; but we shall have no more bites until the
storm is over, A weird rustling goes through the firs,
and the water is caught by sudden flaws of wind. We
reel up and seek the shelter of the wood. A flash and
a rattle, another and another, and the water is whitened
with the wind and the rain. Then, as the storm passes
away, we run to the brow of the hill, to see it sweeping
through the valleys and glens. How dense the cloud
seems ! The flashes dart to earth and return to the
cloud with almost equal brilliancy.

As soon as our lines are in the water again, the fun
begins. The ripples are still on the water, and we can
scarcely see the tiny floats. As it gets calmer, one
moves a little ; then, after a while, a little more, and
then walks ofi" quietly along the surface. I tighten my
line ; no need to strike hard. The carp is a soft, though

Carp Fishing 1 1

leather-mouthed fish. "Whizz ! What a dash ! Again,
and again, and then backwards, and I have to pull the
slack of the line in with my hand ; then out again and
boring down into the mud, and — yes, actually there is a
bite at the other float. I shout to my friend for help,
but see him with a rod in each hand, both bending and
springing like mad ; the water in front of him white
with the struggles of his prey — as white as his face, and
as my own probably is, with excitement. Ah ! one of
mine is off", and the wet and sticky coils of the line fly
in my face. Never mind ; I land the other, a good
three-pounder, and rush round to Campbell's assistance.
We land both his fish, each above 21bs. So through
the rest of the afternoon ; to continue the picture
would be monotonous.

The carp there were vigorous fish, and gave plenty
of play at first ; but after four or five frantic rushes
they submitted to be towed in, a dead, heavy weight,
scarcely giving a flap of the tail till they were banked.

As our tackle had need to be light, we had to exer-
cise considerable caution in safely landing them. Our
plan was to walk slowly backwards until the carp were
hampered in the rushes, and then seize them in our
arms and rush ashore, generally, by the way, getting
the line entangled in the underwood. We would take
home from six to a dozen fish apiece. There were such

1 2 MoimtaiJi, Meadow, a7id Mere

incredible numbers of carp in the pool, that it was no
wonder we had good sport with this otherwise shy fish.
There was no lack of incidents to while away the
monotony of waiting. A snake would swim along
close to us, with its head and neck above water ; or a
fox would steal along by the rushes, on the look-out
for some sleeping water-fowl. Before leaving, too, we
used to climb up to the ledge of rocks which overhung
the vale, and take a glimpse at the thousands of rabbits
feeding among the debris at the bottom of the cliff; if
a stone was thrown down, the rocks seemed absolutely
moving with them. Then, when the fairy-like glens
and valleys, that looked like highways to the sunset,
became undistinguishable from the rugged hills, and the
rock dove had sought her nest in a rabbit burrow or
in a crevice of the old hunting tower, we would turn
homewards, tired and happy.

( 13 )

III.

THE SHEOPSHIRE MERES

In all the pleasant country around the Wrekin, there
are few prettier districts than that which forms the
emerald setting to the silver meres of Salop. Devoid
of the magnificence of the Welsh hills which fonn its
western horizon, it has a quiet beauty peculiarly its own.
Situate in the north-west of Shrop.shire, Ellesmere,
the starting-point of the mere district, is a pretty, quiet
little town, having for its chief attractions the Mere par
excellence ; a handsome church, of cruciform plan (and,
inside, the gloom of the middle ages) ; a hill, on the
summit of which once stood a castle formerly given in
frank marriage to Llewellyn, Prince of North Wales,
by King John, and which, after often changing owners,
was destroyed during the civil wars of the seventeenth
century, not a stone of it now remaining, and the site

14 Mountain, Meadow, and Me^'e

long ago converted into a spacious bowling-green ; and
on the opposite side of the mere the mansion of Oately,
with its well-kept terraces leading down to the water's
edge, and its undulating park, with its " tall ancestral
trees " and groups of deer knee-deep in fern. The mefe
lies on the east of the town, and covers some 116
acres. Its name is derived, say some old chronicles, from
its being Aels Mere, or the greatest mere ; others aver
that it derives its name from the quantity of eels it
contains. The Saxon derivation is by far the most
probable. There are six other meres — Black Mere and
Kettle Mere, so close together as to be almost one ;
White Mere, Newton Mere, Colemere, and, lying a little
out of the group to the south, Crosemere ; all these are
smaller than EUesmere. There are other meres and
pools at no very gi-eat distance, but not sufficiently
large or near to be worth mentioning. Boggy hollows
indicate spots which meres must have occupied in former
days. With the exception of Crosemere, all the meres
named would be contained within a circle of three miles
in diameter. Crosemere would lie a mile and a half
outside this circle to the south ; EUesmere would form
its north-west boundary. The aspect of the country
is somewhat peculiar — it is full of undulations, and the
undulations are short and steep ; altogether it looks
like an assemblage of vast molehills. In the hollo-s^s

The Shropshire Me7-es 1 5

between these molehiUs the meres nestle, and the high-
hedged lanes wind in and out.

Ellesmere can boast of its two wooded islets, sacred
to the large table-like nest of the swans ; and woe to
the unlucky boatsman who, in the breeding season, runs
foul of the pendent branches. The male swan swims
slowly and statelily around the island where his mate
is sitting, and at the jar of the branches sallies forth to
attack the invader, whose only hope of deliverance lies
in instant flight. Some years ago, I believe, there was
the enormous number of 121 swans upon this sheet of
water ; now there are not half that number. From the
mere, all that is seen of the town through the trees is the
church upon its higher ground, and a few houses, with
their gardens reaching to the mere. To the left are the
boat-houses nestling under the shade of several tall trees.
The boats are few in number, and very safe. Owing to
the inequality of the neighbouring land, the mere is
subject to sudden squalls, and sailing is attended
with some danger ; therefore the boats for the use of
the public are unprovided with sails. The pleasantest
time to be on the mere is during an autumn sunset.
On the water is perfect calm ; over the church and
the many-tinted trees the sky is one pale golden
flame, which deepens into the most delicate rose, then
darkens into crimson, and finally dies away, to give

1 6 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

place to the pale moonlight. All these colours are re-
flected in the water, on the white breast of the swans,
and from the glittering windows and pinnacles of
Oately. If the water is thrown up by the oars, the
drops sparkle and colour like a fairy fountain.

Unfortunately that prolific weed, the Anacharis
alsinastrun, has of late years spread very considerably
in all the meres, notably so in Ellesmere. It was first
introduced into this part of the country with some
timber from Canada, which had been brought to Baggy
Moor. From thence it filled the ditches and canals,
and is gradually filling the meres. Years ago the weeds
used to be cut and the mere netted, the coarse fish being
given to the poor. This is not done now, and the
weeds have gained an ascendancy which I am afraid
they will sustain. Boating has already become difficult
in many parts of Ellesmere, and fishing weUnigh
impracticable.

There is a peculiarity of the Ellesmere water which
I can scarcely account for, but which, I am informed,
some other sheets of water in England also present.
To use the local name, it "breaks." Every summer,
for a longer or shorter time, the water becomes full
of some matter held in suspension. In appearance
it is like small bran, rendering it impossible some-
times to see more than a foot throuo^h the water.

The Shropshire Meres 1 7

The mere becomes of a greenish hue, and to leeward,
where it is the worst, it gives rise to a very dis-
agi"eeable smell. It is always worse in hot weather.
To the eye the matter held in suspension seems to con-
sist of husk-like pieces of fibre, such as might be stripped
off a plant. From this I was inclined to think that the
Anacharis is chiefly to blame for this appearance, and
that in some way the outer coating of the plant sloughs
off and floats during its decay in the water. This is,
however, but a supposition.* The other meres do not
'■' break " to such an extent ; but then they are not so
full of the Anacharis, and the water is probably purer.
While the water is " broken " the fish refuse to bite.

Up and down the trunks of the trees the wood-
peckers glide and hammer, and it is astonishing how
far the sound of the tapping may be heard on a quiet
day. Steadying themselves with their tails, which are
placed firmly against the trunk, they hammer away
until a small piece of bark is dislodged, and then the
long and slender tongues shoot out, returning each time
with some insect on their tips. In the shallows the
long-legged heron patiently stands, flying lazily away
when approached. There is a heronry at Halston, some

* A correspondent of the " Field " said the organism causing the
"break" yv&a EcMnella articulata, a doubtfxd genus, some authors con-
sidering it a vegetable and some an animal organi.sm. It is depicted
in Sowerby's English Botany, Vol. xxii. p. 208, tab. 2555. I should
much like to know what it really is.

C

Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

five miles away, and in the morning and evening the
herons may be observed going to or returning from the
isolated marshes and pools. Like a streak of blue light,
the kingfisher shoots from some branch or post ; and
often during the summer the presence of white-winged,
graceful terns adds an additional charm to the mere.

To a sportsman's eye nothing is more distasteful
than the hundi'eds of trimmers scattered over the sur-
face of the water, and the netting of under-sized fish
carried on by those who have obtained leave to have a
day's " sport." It is a sickening thing to see, as I once
saw, baskets full of young jack barely 8 inches long, all
head, and useless for food, massacred — there is no other
word for it. The pike sometimes ran large, but of late
years few big ones have been captured. The trimmers
are baited with dead roach, and, luckily for the pike
and the fair sportsman, the eels get the largest share
of the bait. The rod fishing in this mere is open to the
public, and I beUeve it is not difficult to procure leave
to fish in some of the others.

A short walk along the "WTiitchui'ch road brings us to
a gloomy-looking hollow, at the bottom of which, silent
and still, lies Blackmere. On three sides the oak woods
rise, looking very sombre in their dark gi*een livery ;
and on the remaining side the canal is only separated
from the mere by a narrow strip of land ; beyond that

The Shropshire Meres 1 9

are the open fields. Looking closely, a narrow passage
can be descried through the thick of the wood ; this
leads to Kettlemere, much smaller than its neighbour.
Around both meres the Osynunda regcdis, or royal fern,
lifts its seed-bearing tops and spreads its large fronds.
This fern grows here in great profusion, and attains a
large size. When we push out from the boat-house on
Blackmere we come upon a bed of the very rare small
yellow or Highland waterlily {Nuphar pumila). This
plant is not mentioned in Leighton's " Flora of Shrop-
shire," and most probably did not exist here when that
work was written. It has hitherto been supposed to
grow only on mountain lakes. In fact, aU these meres
are the habitats of numerous rare plants, a catalogue of
which would be tedious. As we row along the margin
we brush against the fringing sweetgale and catch its
fragrant odour.

That upright, stick-like object moving along the
surface is the neck and head of a great crested grebe,
swimming low in the water, to escape observation.
There ! it dives suddenly ; by-and-by it will reappear at
some distance, and, if it thinks you are not looking,
will rise out of the water untU it swims as Hghtly and
buoyantly as other water-birds. We have it on our
meres all the year round, but, in the daytime at least,
it keeps scrupulously far from land and in the deeper

20 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

water. It is raucla oftener seen on this mere than its
common relative, the dabchick. The movements of the
latter are so quick, it is so small, and such a remarkably
expert diver, that you do not often catch a glimpse of
it. The grebes are seldom seen upon the wing except
in the breeding season, when they seem particularly
awkward in their flight. That floating lump of black,
wet weed is a grebe's nest. Lift the weeds from the top
and you will find four or five eggs — one, perhaps, the
last laid, tolerably white, the others stained to dif-
ferent degrees of dirtiness. The interior of the nest is
hot and steaming, and not cold, as you would at JBrst
imao"ine. That yellow stump projecting above the
water-lily leaves is the beak of a water-hen, who is
holding on to the stalks with her feet, all her body
being concealed under water. The water of Black-
mere is very clear, and of a great depth and coldness.

Crossing the canal, and bearing to the right, we
come to Whitemere, a very pretty sheet of water, with
a Swiss cottage on its marge peculiarly suited to
picnic parties. This is a famous place for widgeon and
other wildfowl, and a capital pike pool.

Turning sharply to the left, we cross the country to
Colemere. Passing beneath an avenue of fu's, the feet
fall softly on a thick, brown carpet of fir needles. We
reach the boat-house, and push off. Along the oppo-

The Shropshire Meres 2 1

site side is a dense belt of tall reeds, which in the
summer is alive with the low songs of the reed wrens.
These birds breed in great abundance here, and their
nests are worthy of description. Three or four tall
reeds are chosen, and supported by these, at some dis-
tance from the water, the nest is made. It is sin-
gularly deep in structure, with the top contracted so as
to form a purse-like receptacle for the eggs, which
are thus prevented from rolling out when the reeds
bend before the wind. It is slightly but strongly made,
chiefly of coarse grasses, and the eggs are of a mottled,
greenish brown. In seeking the nests the wader
must beware of the decayed reeds, which have left a
pavement of sharp-fanged stumps.

Peculiar to this mere, and I think to no other sheet
of water in England, are the green moss balls {Conferva
cegagropila) and brown balls composed of fir leaves. It
is supposed that the bottom of the mere is troubled with
conflicting eddies and currents, caused no doubt by
springs, and that these currents catch up the fir leaves
that faU from the trees on the south side of the mere
and roll them up, together with particles of confervse,
into balls of difierent sizes, even up to two feet in
diameter. The moss balls are composed entirely of
confervse. The currents convey these balls to the op-
posite side of the mere (where the reeds are), and there

22

Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

they may be found in thousands at a depth of three or
four feet. The cohesion of each ball is perfect. The
other meres present nothing more noticeable in their
appearance or denizens than those already described.
This mere district is often visited by rare birds. In a
keeper's house I have seen a splendid specimen of a
peregrine falcon, which he had shot some time ago.
He also informed me that he had killed an osprey here,
and that another had been seen haunting one of the
meres. Altogether the district of the Shropshire meres
presents a rich field, both to the observer of natural
history and to the lover of quiet woodland and lake
scenery.

CAUGHT AT LAST

IV.

PAN

They told me Pan was dead, and I was fain

To think that, with the other gods, his reign

Was over, and the onward march of truth

Had proved him nothing but in very sooth

A mere tradition of the olden time,

When man in fancy heard his mystic rhyme

In cadence sad and sweet ring through the wood.

(Pan played alone, but still he deemed it good

That wandering mortal sometimes heard his playing

On reedy flute, from where the bukush swaying

In summer breezes, curtained in his home,

Roofed for a roof with white and azure dome. —

For Pan was Nature's god, and had great love

For Nature's brother, Man, and oft he strove

24 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

To soften Man with song, that he might gain
Sweet sympathy and healing from the strain.)

They told me Pan was dead, and I, who love
The brown, sweet earth below and sky above.
And green of summer trees, and dance of leaves
In flood of sunshine, and the cloud which weaves
Long, shifting shadows 'mong the sheeny corn ;
Who love to hear the lark's dear carol borne
Down from the dazzling light which floods the day.
To gladden the inner soul, and fright away
Wliat's there of care and pain ; who, in a word.
Love Nature dearly, and would love her Lord
The more through her, grieved her interpreter —
Great Pan was but a myth, and dead to her.

So musing and so sorrowing, down the stream
I floated, while the misty weather-gleam
Grew golden, and the deUcate pearly gi^een
Of quiet sunset barred the western sheen.
Between the banks all bright with marigold
And starlike daisies, meadow-sweet, and manifold
Such odorous flowers, and fiinged with pendent trees
That kissed the quiet wave and sang low lullabies.
Stirred by soft breezes — my light boat drew on
With motion gentle as a floating swan.
Till in a quiet cove she drove aground
Beneath the silvering willows.

Pan 25

All around
The quiet peace of evening fell, and sound
Was only half a sound, that more profound
The silence made. The endless monotone
Of gnats that danced in level lanes of light
Part of the silence seemed. The cushat's moan
From distant coppice saddened the coming night.

The while the river o'er its shallows ran
I lay and thought me of the great god Pan,
And through my musings ran a vague regret,
A longing which my inner soul did fret
(As seeming wrong), that all the pulsing life
And varied beauty with which earth was rife
Had no alive and outward bodiment
Wherewith the soul in converse reverent
Might hold commune : a being set between
Man and his Maker.

As the yellow sheen
Died out of the West, and from the depth of blue
Shone faint white ghmmerings where the stars hung

through,
I heard a low, clear strain come up the vale ;
As when in April nights the nightingale
Rehearses his love-song, but through it ran
A rhythm so exceeding sweet that Pan
Alone could be the player. No halt or flaw

26 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

Its beauty marred. Then suddenly I saw

The god, across the stream, amid the sedge

And misty wreaths along the river's edge,

And whether he spoke, or whether a subtle sense

'Twixt him and me made an intelligence

I know not, but there came from him to me —

" If I am dead, thy God is near to thee ;

There needs no other mediator than

The one He gave, — at once a God and Man ;

Look thou within thyself, perchance the link

That's missing has been broke by thee. Yet think.

If so thou wilt, I am not dead, but merged

In one I too must love."

Then surged
Out from the West a sudden wind which tossed
The branches in the wood, and so was lost
At once the silence and the song. I lay
As one awaked, and watched the misty cloud
Enclose the starlit meadow in its shroud,
Then took the oars, and silent rowed away.

( 27 )

V.

SCOULTON GULLERY

A SOMEWHAT similar instinct to that which compels the
salmon to leave the salt water of the sea, and ascend
the rivers and streams, to deposit its spawn, would
appear to lead the black-headed gull {Lavus ridi-
bundus) from the sea-shore and cliffs, which one would
naturally suppose to be its proper habitat, to the inland
lakes and meres, where it breeds. The change is not
less great in the bird than it is in the fish — fi-om sea
insects, shell-fish, and odds and ends of salted articles
of food, to in the case of the salmon fresh- water insects
and worms, and in the case of the gull to land insects,
slugs, worms, and other the dainty dishes of inland
birds. But the salmon affect many of our fresh- water
rivers ; the gulls have only a few favourite breeding-
places, where, however, they breed in enormous num-

28 Mountam, Meadow, and Mere

bers. Scoulton Mere, in Norfolk, is perhaps the chief
of these, and is a sight no one who journeys in its
neighbourhood should miss. It is situate near Hing-
ham, and is twenty-eight miles from the sea. In that
county of lakes, it may be interesting to notice the dif-
ference in the designations of its numerous sheets of
water. The majority are called "Broads," a term
peculiar to Norfolk. The others of any size are called
"Meres." The latter have no communication with
any rivers, but are hoUows in the surface, caused, so
geologists teU us, by erosion, and supplied by springs.
The Broads are always in intimate connection with the
slow running rivers of that county — the Yare, the
Bure, and the Waveney. At one time the whole of the
Broad district must have been under water, as is evi-
denced by its flat, marshy character. As the years
rolled on, the waters subsided, the hollows silted up,
as they are doing year by year now, with reeds and
other aquatic vegetation, which, decaying, helped to
fill up the lakes, until marsh took the place of water,
and after drainage, hard, firm land the place of marsh.
The remaining waters, shallow and broad, took the
name of " Broads."

The black or brown patch on the head, from which
the name of the gull is derived, appears only during
the breeding season, and is darkest when fii^st as-

Scoulton Gullery 29

sumed. It has been observed that the change of
colour is not caused by a moulting of the feathers,
but that the pigment slowly spreads over them and
afterwards disappears without any change of plumage.
The note of this gull is a harsh cackle, and has led to
its being called by some writers the " laughing-gull."
The true laughing gull, however, is a distinct species.

There are a few other noted breeding-places of this
gull in England, notably one at Twigmoor, where the
spot is such as to suit their apparent requirements,
namely, shallow water, and spongy, almost inaccessible
marshes; but Scoulton Mere is the most numerous
colony known. It was, therefore, with some degree of
pleasure that I found business required my presence
within two miles of the mere. It was a beautiful July
day, and the drive through the well-farmed country
to Hingham, and thence to Scoulton, was extremely
pleasant. The corn-fields gave promise of a splendid
harvest, and their cool green waves were agreeably
diversified with the scarlet poppies, or " redweed " of
the farmer. From some cause or other, there appeared
to be an unusual abundance of these, and some fields
showed more scarlet than green; others were appa-
rently free from the flowers save in the fun-ows ; and
as we sped by, behind a fast horse, the alternate green
of the corn and the scarlet flash of the radiating frir-

30 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

rows, with the deep, dark green of the woods behind,
and intensest summer blue above, afforded a rare con-
trast of colour to the artistic eye.

The mere, we found, lay in a sheltered spot, bordered,
however, by the road on its most open side. Leaving
the highway, we entered a cool avenue of magnificent
rhododendron bushes, quite ten feet in height, and pre-
sently came to the boat-house. Embarking in a wide
tub of a boat, and impelled by a pair of the stoutest
sculls one could well imagine — and none too stout to
make any way among the thick weeds — we pushed out
into the open water. The mere, with its islands, con-
tains some eighty acres. The large flat marsh in the
middle, locally called the Hearth, and by Bewick the
" haft," contains a large proportion of the eighty acres.
The greater part of it is covered with low bushes, and
long reeds, flags, and grass, and is very spongy and wet.
On this the gulls breed. Their nests are built on the
ground, and are not a yard apart. They are of some-
what similar character to those of the coots and water-
hens ; made of aquatic vegetation, and but very slightly
cup-shaped. Like those of the last-named birds too,
they are, in places where the water is likely to rise and
flood them, raised a foot, or even more, above the sur-
face, but they invariably have their foundation upon
it. Only once has a nest been found in one of the low

Scoulton Gullery 31

bushes, and this was probably a freak on the part of
some eccentric bird of experimentive genius. The
nests are too loosely built, and have too little cohesion,
to rest safely among branches. The eggs are generally
three in number, and of a yellowish olive brown,
spotted with darker brown ; but, as in the case of
the guillemot's egg, there is gi'eat variety in the colour.
Sometimes they are of light, unspotted blue.

The mere has been a breeding-place from time im-
memorial. Its attractions consist undoubtedly in the
shallowness of its waters, averaging only two or three
feet in depth over the gi'eater part of it, as we found
by sounding with the oars ; and the consequent abun-
dance of weeds — both causes adducing to the prolixity
of insect life. Add to this the advantages offered
for a safe breeding-place by the " hearth," and marshy
ground in the vicinity, some parts of which are
even now inaccessible to the practised marshman, and
the whole of which must have once been in a similar
condition. Once fixed upon as a breeding-place, no-
thing but tlie extermination of the gulls would have
caused its abandonment. And had it not been strictly
preserved by the proprietor, and a fine belt of trees
planted around it, to secui-e it from intrusion, it would
doubtless have been ere this a thing of the past.

In February the guUs begin to gather together on

2,2 Mountain, Meadow, a7id Mere

the sea-coast, and a flock of them comes to Scoulton as
pioneers, wheeling around and around for a while, and
then darting away, to return in a few days with more.
In a month the great body will have arrived, and the
nesting begins. If disturbed, they rise into the air in
countless numbers, seeming in the distance like a snow-
storm. The noise of their swooping wings and their
harsh cries is deafening. They may be seen sweep-
ing round the branches of the trees, picking off the
" locusts," as the country people term the cockchafers,
or foraging over the fields in flocks, like white rooks.
Mice are eagerly devoured by them, and it is even said
that young birds are swallowed sometimes ; but this I
very much doubt. I never met anybody who had
seen an instance of such cannibalism in the gull tribe.
The eggs are laid in April and May, and by the end of
June all the broods are hatched. This is the time to
pay a visit to the mere. The end farthest from the
road is the part most frequented by the birds, and there
they sit on the water in thousands, swimming as light
as a feather, the variegated plumage of the old and
young having a striking efiect. Formerly the old
birds seem to have been killed for the sake of eating,
but now the eggs are taken instead, and are boiled and
eaten cold, like lapwings' eggs, to which they have a
similar taste, but are not quite so good. They are

Scoultoii Gtillery

sometimes palmed off upon an unwary purchaser as
lapwings' eggs ; but the fraud may easily be detected,
as there is a decided difference in the shape of the egg,
to say nothing of the colour. The right of collecting
and selling the eggs used to be rented for fifteen pounds
a year. I do not know whether this is the case now,
but the eggs are collected and sold on the spot for
eighteen-pence or two shillings a score, and at much
higher prices in Norwich and Lynn markets. The
gathering of the eggs is no easy task, owing to the
spongy and dangerous nature of the soil, and the
vigorous swoops of the indignant guUs around the in-
truder's head. Only the first laying is taken, and
only a prescribed number of raids is made in the
season. Afterwards the birds are left to hatch their
young in peace. The number collected is about fifteen
hundred or two thousand a day, and sometimes three
thousand. From this fact some idea of the enor-
mous number of birds may be gained. Once, after
the guUs had had a year of rest, the enormous number
of forty thousand eggs was gathered in one season.

In July and August the gulls begin to leave and
make their way to the sea-coast. They can be heard
passing overhead in the night, and a few years ago a
large flock came over Norwich and were attracted and
confused by the glare of the lamps, for many were found

34 Motintaifi, Meadow, and Mere

dead and disabled at the foot of the lamp-posts, against
which they had dashed.

Away to the bonny open sea, to dash and sport with
the waves, to forget the confined inland life, and the
troubles of a family, in the cool salt breeze, and the
sparkling ocean ; who would not envy them their
holiday ?

At the time I visited the mere the business of
hatching was over, and the number of gulls had in some
degree lessened, but the number remaining was suffi-
ciently great to excite wonderment and surprise. We
rowed quietly through the yellow waterhlies, disturb-
ing enormous carp, which were basking in the heat, de-
scendmg quietly round corners on unsuspecting gulls
which took to wing with a tremendous scmry, and
noting carefully the leading features of the novel sight.
In addition to the gulls, grebes great and small, wild
ducks, snipe, water-rails, coots, and water-hens breed in
numbers, and weasels, rats, and other vennin swarm,
attracted by the abundance of animal food. When the
gulls have all left, the silence must, one would imagine,
be as oppressive to the keeper as the silence of a water-
mill, when it is stopped, is to a miller. We could have
passed many an hour on and about the mere, for it was
very beautiful. There was the calm blue water, with
the golden lilies floating on its surface, like stars of

Scoultoft Gullery 35

light, and the white lilies in motionless flocks as of the
gulls themselves at eventide ; the lacing foliage of the
encircling trees casting welcome shade, the songs of
many a warbler, the wheeling gulls, and the luxuriant
vegetation of the islands, all united to please the eye
and ear ; but the birds were shining brilliantly white
against the deep blue black of a thunder-cloud : and the
sultry ominous silence that came over all warned us to
be off" and away from the tempest, and with one last,
long look, we bade adieu to Scoulton Gullery.

As a rider to the foregoing sketch, I think it may be
interesting to the reader if I quote an older account of
the habits of these birds. It is taken from Mon-is's
" British Birds," where it is stated to be quoted from
Dr. Plot's " History of Staffordshire."

" But the strangest whole-footed water-fowl that
frequents this county is the Lams cinereus, Orni-
thologi, the Larus cinereus tertius, Aldrovandi, and
the Ceppjius of Gesner and Turner ; in some counties
called the Black-cap, in others the Sea or Mire Crow ;
here the Pewit ; which being of the migratory kind,
come annually to certain pooles in the estate of the
Right Worshipfull Sir Charles Skrymsher, Knight, to
build and breed, and to no other estate in or near the
county, but of this family, to which they have belonged
' ultra hominum memoriam,' and never moved from it.

36 Mountam, Meadow, and Mere

though they have changed their station often. They
anciently came to the old Pewit poole above mentioned,
about half a mile S. W. of Norbury church, but it being
their strange quality (as the whole family will tell you,
to whom I refere the reader for the following relation)
to be disturbed and remove upon the death of the head
of the family, as they did within memory, upon the
death of James Skrymsher, Esq., to Offley Moss, near
Woods Eves, which Moss, though containing two gentle-
men's land, yet (which is very remarkable) the Pewits
did discern betwixt the one and the other, and build
only on the land of the next heir, John Skrymsher, Esq.,
so wholy are they addicted to this family.

" At which Moss they continued about three years,
and then removed to the old Pewit poole again, where
they continued to the death of the late said John
Skrymsher, Esq., which happening on the eve to our
Lady-day, the veiy time when they are laying their
eggs, yet so concerned were they at this gentleman's
death, that notwithstanding this tye of the Law of
Nature, which has ever been held to be universal and
perpetual, they left their nest and eggs ; and though
they made some attempts of laying again at Offley
Moss, yet they were still so disturbed that they bred
not at all that year. The next year after they went
to Aqualat, to another gentleman's estate of the same

Scoulton Gullery 37

family (where though tempted to stay with all the
care imaginable), yet continued there but two years,
and then returned again to another poole of the next
heir of John Skrymsher, deceased, called Shebben
poole, in the Parish of High Offley, where they con-
tinue to this day, and seem to be the propriety, as I
may say (though a wild-fowle), of the Right Worship-
full Sir Charles Skrymsher, Knight, their present Lord
and Master.

" But being of the migratory kind, their first appear-
ance is not till about the latter end of February, and
then in number scarce above six, which come, as it
were, as harbingers to the rest, to see whether the hafts
or islands in the pooles (upon which they build their
nests) be prepared for them, but these never so much
as lighten, but fly over the poole, scarce staying an
hour ; about the sixth of March following there comes
a pretty considerable flight, of a hundred or more, and
then they alight on the hafts, and stay all day, but are
gone again at night. About our Lady-day or sooner,
in a forward spring, they come to stay for good, other-
wise not till the beginning of April, when they build
their nests, which they make not of sticks, but of leaves
and rushes, making them but shallow, and laying gene-
rally but four eggs, three and five more rarely, which
are about the bigness of a small hen's %gg.

38 Mountain, Meadow, a^id Mere

" The hafts or islands are prepared for them between
Michlemas and Christmas, by cutting down the reeds
and rushes, and pulling them aside in the nooks and
comers of the hafts, and in the valleys, to make them
level, for should they be permitted to rot on the islands,
the Pewits would not endure them. After three weeks'
sitting the young ones are hatched, and about a month
after are already to flye, which usually happens on the
third of June, when the proprietor of the poole orders
them to be driven and catch' d, the Gentry comeing in
from all parts to see the sport ; the manner thus, — they
pitch a rabbit-net on the bank side, in the most con-
venient place over against the hafts, the net in the
middle being about ten yards from the side, but close
at the ends in the manner of a bow ; then six or seven
men wade into the poole beyond the Pewits over
against the net, with long staves, and di'ive them from
the hafts, whence they all swim to the bank side, and
landing, run like Lapwings into the net, where people
standing ready, take them up and put them into two
penns made within the bow of the net, which are built
round, about three yards diameter and a yard length oi"
somewhat better, with small stakes driven into the
ground in a circle, and interwoven Avith broom and
other raddle. In which manner there have been
taken of them in one morning fifty dozens at a driving.

Scoulton Gullery 39

" But they commonly appoint three days of driving
them, within fourteen days or thereabouts of the 2nd
and 3rd of June, which while they are doing, some
have observed a certain old one that seems to be some-
what more concerned than the rest, being clamorous,
and striking down upon the very heads of the men ;
which has given ground of suspicion that they have
some government among them, and that this is their
prince, who is so much concerned for its subjects.
And it is further observed that when there is great
plenty of them the lent corn is so much the better, and
the cow pastures too, by reason they pick up all the
worms and the ' Fern Flyes.' "

40 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

VI.
WILD SHOOTING

By "Wild Shooting" I mean — not pheasant shooting
in the coverts, partridge shooting over the stubbles,
grouse shooting on the moors, not even wildfowl
shooting and snipe shooting — but a mixture of all, with
a predominance of the wildfowl element. This is un-
doubtedly hard to obtain now, but there are places
where it can be enjoyed in perfection. One such is
described in the following sketch. I regret that I dare
not state its exact whereabouts. The shooting is free,
or at least the permission of the tenants to go over the
land is all that is required, and that is seldom with-
held. I am far from wishing to cry down other mode.s
of shooting. They are aU enjoyable in their turn, but
more enjoyable than all is wild shooting. In it alone
is there that smack of adventure, of wandering, of

Wild Shooting 4 1

novelty, which, to my mind, constitutes the cream of
all sport. When you start in the morning you do not
know what the day may bring forth. You cannot
estimate the probable number of your bag or even its
probable quality. It may be very small indeed, or it
may by some stroke of fortune be very large. All is
delightful uncertainty.

I well remember the first day's real wild shooting
I had. It was not long after leaving school ; and
when I received an invitation to spend a few days
one December with a friend who lived in one of the
fertile Welsh valleys, and a promise of sport in abun-
dance if I knew how to hold a gun straight, I greedily
accepted it.

" The shades of night were falling fast " as I drove
up the long steep hill and gained the crest of the valley
in whose wooded depths lay Pentrelyn Hall. The
snow was falling lightly and slowly, and there was a
sharpish frost. I knew that this would probably bring
the wildfowl to the river, which flowed through the
valley beneath me in long stretches of grey and white,
glimmering in the light of the moon, which was just
rising over the serrated edge of the pine wood on the
top of the opposite hill. Soon I entered the drive,
from the trees on either side of which several wood-
pigeons darted, startled at the noise of the wheels on

42 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

the gravel. A blaze of light from the open hall door, a
hearty welcome from my host, and a good dinner were
all most comfortable and proper things.

After dinner Mr. H — took me to what he called his
study — save the mark ! Here we w"ere soon lost in
the mysteries of guns and ammunition. " These," said
Mr. H — , " are the very best things I have ever shot
with," pointing to some gun-cotton cartridges, then
lately invented. " They shoot with such httle noise,
they do not foul the baiTel, and they will kill a good
five yards further than gunpowder. I have just
invested in a thousand of them. You will see what
they can do to-morrow."

Now, I had heard but indififerent reports of these
gun-cotton cartridges, so I said,

" Have you used many of them ? "

" No, only about a dozen ; I tried them at the
rabbits this morning, but I am quite satisfied they
are the best things out. Would you like to try
them ? "

" No, thanks ; I will stick to my own powder car-
tridges."

We went out on to the drive. The snow had ceased,
and the moon shone clearly and brightly.

" Would you like some shooting to-night ? " said my
host.

Wild Shooting 43

" Yes, if you can give me any ; but what can I shoot
now ? "

" Wood-pigeons, in the coppice yonder. They want
thinning sadly. My tenants are complaining of the
mischief they and the rabbits do. Now, if you take
your gun and go quietly under the trees, you will see
the pigeons roosting in the topmost branches, and you
can make an easy pot shot. You may possibly kill
three or four. I would come with you, but I have
some letters to write."

Nothing loth, I started otf across the paddock to the
wood. It was composed of larch and fir-trees which
grew rather wide apart, and permitted a good view
aloft among the branches. The first thing that caught
my eye was a pheasant roosting on a low branch.
My fingers itched to pull the trigger, but I nobly
refrained. It may be asked, if I could shoot wood-
pigeons while they were asleep, why not a pheasant ?
The answer is, that wood-pigeons are so wary and
difficult to approach in the daytime, that it is almost
impossible to get a shot at them, except by lying in
wait for them at certain times, so that when it is
wished to kill them it is no mean advantage to take to
surprise them wliile roosting. Even then the chances
are many in their favour. The trees are high, and the
branches are thick. The slightest noise alarms them ;

44 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

and of course, when one is fired at, the others take the
hint and scuttle away from the immediate neighbour-
hood. The pheasant, on the other hand, is an easy
shot at all times, and shooting him pn his perch is
nothing less than butchery. There is no sport in kill-
ing ferce. naturce unless some " law " is given them.
Although I take the trouble to give this explanation,
I do not expect anybody who is not a sportsman to
agree with me in my reasoning. Certainly not Mr.
Freeman.

In the wood such a solemn silence and stillness
reigned. There was no breeze to awaken the sighing of
the branches. Even the aspen, had it been there and
in leaf, would not have trembled. Carefully avoiding
the brambles and rabbit-holes, I picked my way to a
tree stump, on which I sat and looked about me. Be-
fore long I made out a dark lump in the top of a tree
close to, which I knew to be a pigeon ; but the quiet
was so great and deep, that I hardly felt inclined to
break it. I sat still and listened, like men do listen
when alone at night in the country, though what one
expects to hear I do not know. I listened with ears
strained to catch the slightest sound Oh, Jupiter —
Jehoshaphat ! What was that ? A sudden and pro-
longed shriek, that sent the blood curdling in my
veins, and made my scalp and back " creep " and my

Wild Shooting 45

fingers tighten on the gun barrel. A white shape flits
between the tree stems. It is an owl on the look out
for his breakfast, and the noise that startled me pro-
ceeded from his downy throat.

He had broken the spell that was creeping over me,
and, taking aim at the ring-dove, I fired. A hundred
echoes awoke the silence, and, as the bird slowly fell
from branch to branch ere it reached the ground,
scores of its fellows left their roosting-places in hur-
ried and noisy flight. Ere I left the wood I killed
two more.

At daybreak we made our way to a spring in a
glade of an oak plantation by the river. This, we
guessed, the frost would not have touched, and we ex-
pected the wild ducks would have found it out. We
were not disappointed. Ere we reached it we heard
them quacking and spluttering in the shallow rivulet.
They rose as we came within shot, — thi-ee couples of
them. Two ducks fell to our shots — one to each — a
fine drake with glossy plumage and beautifully tinted
neck to my baiTcl, and a duck to H — 's. " A good be-
ginning," said H — ; " now, as you are the youngest,
you take the top of that bank, and I will take the
bottom, and we will walk along and pick up whatever
we can." We did so, the dogs, a spaniel and a re-
triever, keeping to heel. Ere we had gone many yards

46 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

a rabbit popped out of a bramble bush just under
my feet. In my hurry I missed him.

" Now, see how I shall ' wipe your eye,' " said
H — , and, taking a deliberate aim, he fired. To my
delight, his gun went off with a sort of puff instead
of a report, and the shots were just ejected a few
feet from the barrel and pattered on the grass.
Bunny gave a flick of his white tail, and dived
unhurt into a burrow. " Ha ! ha ! " laughed I, " how
about wiping my eye, and those excellent gun-cotton
cartridges ? "

H — looked rather discomposed, but his faith in them
was not shaken. The same thing, however, occurring
three or four times again in the course of the day, he
was compelled to admit that, although gun-cotton
sometimes gave very satisfactory results, yet it was
not to be depended upon like gunpowder. After knock-
ing over one or two more rabbits, we walked down to
the river side. A water-hen, disturbed by our approach,
flew up stream, her legs skimming the water in the
awkward way peculiar to waterfowl when they take
to flight. I fired, and she dropped into the water,
evidently winged, and swam underneath a clump of
bushes that projected into the stream. I went up
to this clump, and climbed out upon it for the purpose
of dislodging the wounded bird. To my surprise, one

Wild Shooting 47

water-hen after another fluttered away, until nearly a
dozen had escaped. They appeared to have made it a
sort of harbour of refuge, for I certainly never saw so
many collected together before. Unlike coots, water-
hens are not gregarious even in severe winter weather.
We shot three of them, for a water-hen properly cooked,
and shinned instead of being plucked, is quite a dainty
morsel.

Passing through an oak covert, a brace of pheasants
was added to our bag, which by this time was be-
coming rather heavy. Then we came to a weii-, on the
edge of which, half-way across, was a small island.
From this island a couple of wild ducks took wing,
and went away out of shot. Presently we saw them
wheel around and come back, but at a great height.
H — took the No. 5 cartridge out of his right-hand
barrel, and replaced it with one filled with No. 1 shot.
Just as the ducks came overhead he fired. One of
them, great as the distance was, came down with its
wing broken.

" That is the fourth time in succession that you
have fired off* that right-hand barrel of yours. You
will wear it out before the other."

" It's good stuff" — it won't wear out ; but all the same
it is a bad habit to fire one barrel oftener than the
other. You see, the trigger of this ban-el comes first

48 Mountain, Meadow, and Mei^e

to the finger, and when only one barrel is fired ofi", ten
to one it is the right-hand one."

Meanwhile, the duck had fallen into the river and
floated down to the island. It became a difficult
matter to retrieve it, for the water flowed swiftly over
the weii' on to a nasty jumble of rocks below, and, if we
sent the retriever across, he would probably be carried
over and hurt. Rather than let a wounded bird escape
to pine away in agony, I determined to retrieve it
myself. I had on a pair of wading boots reaching up
to the thigh ; and as the water was only about nine
inches deep on the wooden sill of the weir, I thought I
might get across in safety. I had, however, miscal-
culated the strength of the current, which had such a
hold on the wide and buoyant boots, that I was nearly
carried off" my legs at the first attempt. I had to lean
against the stream in order to keep my feet, and before
I was half-way across a sudden slip took me in deeper.
The water rushed in over the tops of the boots, and
poured down my legs in an icy cold deluge. It,
however, answered the purpose of taking in ballast
and steadying me in my further progress. The duck
was recovered, and rather than lie on my back and
hoist my legs in the air, to let the water run out, as
suggested by H — , I made my way to a neighbouring
farm-house, and sending to the hall for a pair of
boots, I made myself comfortable.

Wild Shooting 49

A marshy tract along the river's side was the next
place "we \dsited. Here there was an abundance of
snipe, and several of them were added to our bag. My
practice at them was so bad, that H — laughed at me
heartily, and attributed it to the whiskey I had imbibed,
to keep the cold away after my wetting. I need not
tell the reader that it was nothing of the kind. I was
simply not used to snipe shooting, and the eccentric
flight of the birds was, to say the least, bewildering to
a young hand. A heron sailed majestically away from
a dyke, but we refrained fi-om shooting at it, as it
would have been no use to us, and we both had a
horror of needless slaughter. Leaving the marshes, we
made our way to a mill, H — saying,

" My land ends here ; and, although the good fellow
at the mill yonder wouldn't mind our going over his
meadows, I always make a point of asking leave. We
will leave him a couple of rabbits."

Leave was of course given. As we were turning
away, I saw a fine pike lying motionless along the
edge of the weeds in the millpool. H — said, " We will
do the miller a service, and rid him of the destroyer of
his ducks. I have heai'd that you should always fire
at the tail of a fish, and not a.t the head. It deprives
him of the power of motion at once. Let us try the
experiment."

50 Mountam, Meadow, and Mere

He fired (again the right-hand barrel, by the way) ;
but apparently the tail was not the vulnerable point
of this particular pike, for a wave of water travelling
with lightning rapidity up the pool showed us that his
means of locomotion were unimpaired.

" Humph ! So much the worse for the miUer's
ducks."

A tramp over two or three meadows brought us a
brace and a half of partridges, and to the foot of the hill.
Up the side of the hill ran a sort of marshy ravine
containing a thicket of dwarf bushes. As soon as the
dogs were in, a woodcock floated out with that pecu-
liar owl-like flight they sometimes assume. He paid
the penalty of his rashness, as did two others which
we flushed. Three more arose, but got clear away ;
and then, as nothing more remained in the thicket, we
turned our attention to the hillside and the rabbits.
The snow had melted away in the bright rays of the
sun, which shone out of a cloudless sky, and the short
grass was as slippery as glass. It was owing to this
circumstance, and our consequent ludicrous slipping
about and breakneck tumbles, that the rabbits escaped
more easily than we wished. Worse even than this
was a part of the hill, covered thickly with blackberry
bushes and thorns, and with a surface of loose stones.
These stones gave way beneath us, and shot us into the

Wild Shooting 5 1

midst of the thorns, so often and so painfully, that
plentiful as the rabbits were, we voted the gi'apes sour,
and turned our steps homeward, walking along the
high road for some little distance, and then at my
request turning down to the river again. I always
like walking by the side of water when it is prac-
ticable. It shortens the way very considerably, although
I cannot quite analyse the charm it has for me. As
soon as we reached the river's bank, a soHtary teal
arose and fell to H — 's shot. Almost simultaneously I
fired at and killed a snipe, which took wing from a
neighbouring ditch. Refore we reached home two or
three rabbits ended their existence, and H — suc-
ceeded at last in " wiping my eye " by killing a hare
I had missed as it bounded over the furrows.

Only one other incident occurred before we reached
home. That was the sight of a fox stealing cautiously
along one side of a hedgerow towards a rabbit sitting
unsuspiciously on the other. He looked so handsome,
with his fur gleaming in the sunKght, that I was sorely
tempted to shoot him for the pui^pose of having him
stuffed ; but I am happy to tell my fox-hunting readers
that virtue was too strongly planted in my heart, and
I refrained.

Not the least enjoyable part of a day's shooting or
fishing is the return home to the cheerful fireside

52

Mowitam, Meadow, and Mere

and the well-cooked dinner, the happy chat over the
after-dinner pipe, and the comfortable feeling that our
rest is well earned.

Of course wild shooting varies in character according
to place, but I think the foregoing is a pretty fair
sample of it. Whether I have made my readers feel as
I do about it I do not know, but any way the recital of
one day's experience makes me long rather overmuch
for more such days.

SPOKT INDEED '

OO

THE YELLOW WAGTAIL.

VII.

SPKING

She has come in the steps of the warm southern breeze,

Joyously greeting the hungering land ;

And the life that was hid in the winterly leas

Suddenly heareth her royal command.

The throstle sings loud 'mid the aspen's quiver,

The swallow skims swift o'er the siofhinof river.

54 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

All the trees in the greenness of leaves she has drest ;

Hedges are white with the flowering may,

And each bank wears the primi'ose's gold on its breast.

Down in the vale at the close of the day,

The reed- wren's low song through the rushes shrilleth,

The nightingale under the moonbeams trilleth.

On the hills, in the glens, by the rills and the streams,
" Spring has come ! " nature cries, laughing with joy.
On a thousand new tints see the sunlight now gleams,
Over all light zephyrs playfully toy ;
The brooks in their glee are a welcome singing.
That chimes with the chant through the bhthe woods
ringing.

In the sky, like a speck 'gainst the fleecy spring blue,

Merrily carols the lark to his fair ;

As the melody falls with the freshness of dew,

Jaded hearts di'ink it in, casting out care.

The doves in the firs to their mates are cooing ;

Life's joy was never so worth pursuing.

( 55 )

VIIL
THE TENCH POOL

No part of England is so dear to me as that which
lies along the borders of North Wales. On the east
stretches the broad and level plain, with the Severn
winding mazily through it, loth to leave its fertile
fields and luxuriant woods. On the west are at
first the lower hills ; but wild and picturesque enough
in spite of their puny height ; and beyond, the grand
and rugged mountains, with cloud shadows creeping
up their sides, giving an infinite variety to their sober
tints of brown and grey and purple ; and the clouds
themselves rest on their tops, shrouding them from
our ken, and seeming to isolate them completely
from the world below. It was our practice to make
for the hills in all our sporting rambles. We seemed
freer and lighter in spirit up there than down on the

56 Motintain, Meadow, and Mere

flats, shut in by high hedgerows and stem fences.
Better was it by far on the uplands, with nothing
to stay the breeze that gave us elasticity of limb
and freedom of breath. What was there in the low-
lands to compensate us for the wide map of landscape
below us, with dark forest patches and kaleidoscopic
effects of sunshine and shade on the bright greens
and golds of meadows and corn lands, and the sudden
whitening of the leaves in the near woods as the
breeze swept by ?

Out of the rich plain, too, rose the Wrekin, proud in
its solitary majesty, with the noble river laving its
foot, and hundreds of the bravest lads and fairest
lasses in all England gazing towards its bold bluff as
they give utterance to the time-honoui'ed sentiment
" To all friends around the Wrekin." Wliat more
glorious than to see the sun rise to the left of the
Stiperstones — first a band of pale orange, then a stripe
of delicate gTeen that lifted higher and narrowed as
the venerable orb rose in full glory, thi'owing into
sudden and distinct relief church spires, white cot-
tages, and shivering poplars ! Awakening, too, with
a gladness that the night is over, the birds burst
out into a deafenins; chorus that loses much of its
charm and sweetness, as the fields, which were silver-
white with the gossamer weavings of the night.

The Tench Pool 57

resume their pristine hue, and the regular business
of the world begins. But I think we felt a deeper
delio^ht in the sunsets over the Welsh mountains.
Rugged rocks were ruby stepping-stones to the far-
off crimson glare, that looked like the gates of fauy-
land at the head of the glen, lighting up tarn and
stream with an unearthly lustre, while the bare
outlines of the hills were toned down by the radiant
evening mists in a manner that would have delighted
Turner and all his school.

But where is all this leading ? Why, to another
fishing sketch ; but you must let me approach it in
my own way. I have told you of the pool on the hill
where the big carp lie. Now, I want you to come
with me to another pool, not far from that, but nearer
the lowlands, where we catch fish that used to have
more fascination for me than perhaps any other — the
mud-loving tench.

At one time we, visited that pool almost daily.
Sometimes we would start at five in the morning, and
be back by school time. One night, I remember, I
had been kept awake by a most racking toothache ;
losing all patience with the malady, as soon as it
was light I dressed, and, taking my rod, set off on that
raw, damp morning, tench fishing. It was too much
trouble for one of us to call the other up, so we arranged

58 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

a code of signals, by means of stones placed on a certain
gate, to tell who had passed that way. But most fre-
quently we went in the evenings. Unlike the carp
pool, we could not count upon having it all to our-
selves, and it was sometimes a regular race which
should first seize on the best places. It was a nearly
circular pool of considerable extent, and, like the carp
pond, surrounded by wood ; not, however, dark fir trees,
but massy oaks, with open spaces, where grew the
" silver birk." There was a narrow pathway all
around, but between that and the water's edge was
the great beauty of the spot — a belt of luxuriant
rhododendron bushes, which at the time of year the
tench bit best were one mass of pink blossoms, relieved
here and there with white. It was a singularly pretty
scene, with the circle of blue sky and white cloud
overhead, the circle of green oak foliage below it, with
its uniformity broken by taU pine trees peering above
it and piercing the blue, then the pink and white of
the rhoc'odendrons, and all the details of the picture,
repeated in the circular mirror of the lakelet. Bottom
fishing is prosy enough, but in such a scene it has a
borrowed fascination. What could be jollier for a
dreamy lad than to sit on a bank that was a perfect
bed of flowers — blue violets, yellow primroses, and
wild hyacinths — sleepily watching the float resting so

The Tench Pool 59

innocently on the still water, glancing at the rabbits
frisking in the glades of the wood, the creeper actively
flitting up the lichened tree trunk, and listening to the
hum of the insects dancing in the lanes of green light
that stream between the tree-tops from the outer
glare ?

But, see, the game has begTin. One of the half-
dozen lads who have wormed their way in among the
rhododendrons has landed a fine tench. You see to
your worm, and let it sink gently down by the flood-
gate in an open space between the lily leaves. You
watch it intently for a few minutes ; but the attention
is distracted by a furry little water-rat swimming
along by the edge of the bank. How quietly, and
yet quickly, it gets along ! With an Englishman's
instinct, you seize a stick and raise it with a mur-
derous intent, for the little creature is within arm's
reach ; but pity asserts her sway, and the rat is allowed
to visit in peace his wife and family. But the float is
bobbing up and down. There ! it rises slowly, and at
last reclines quietly on its side. That is a sure indica-
tion of a tench, and you strike. What a determined
way your victim has of boring down into the mud
but you are too much for him, and without any splash
he is safely landed — a curly -finned, muscular-backed
fish of three-quarters of a pound in weight. As the

6o Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

evening closes in the bites become more numerous, and
the float is taken down or oflf with more of the perch's
rush. At last it is too dark to see the bites, and a
piece of white paper is fixed to the float to make it
more conspicuous. When that is of no avail the line
is shortened, and you fish by feel. The spirit of rivalry
that erewhile prevailed among us, leading to frequent
cautionings not to make any noise or splash the water,
for fear of spoiling sport, has given way under the
influence of success to careless laughter and fun as
fish after fish is lost in the long and dew- wet gTass, or
falls back into the water after a hasty strike. At last
it is positively impossible to fish any longer. Some
hooks have been lost in the weeds, which it was not
light enough to avoid ; and one (I will not say who) is
not astonished that he has had no bites for the last
ten minutes when he discovers his hook in his coat
sleeve instead of in the water.

Then there was the walk home, blundering tlirough
the wood and stumbling over fallen branches. We
held on to each other for support ; but, in truth, it
was the blind leading the blind. However, there is
comfort in companionship, even if it is all in a heap
at the bottom of a ditch.

Uneventful as such an evening may be, yet the
memory thereof is passing sweet. Well-earned sue-

The Tench Pool 6i

cesses and triumphs leave their mark for a time ; but
there is ever something of pain mingled with them.
These quiet enjoyments are bright resting-places in a
man's Hfe, whereon he loves to ponder. They come
back sometimes so vividly, that one strives to grasp
and seciu-e them for ever. Moved by such an impulse,
I have seated myself down and fixed a memory
brought up by a chance allusion.

6 2 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

IX.
WATCHING FOR WILD DUCKS

No sort of shooting has such enthusiastic votaries
as wildfowl shooting, or followers who will take so
much trouble and undergo so much privation and
inconvenience. Perhaps the cause of this is that
the human mind has an irresistible hankering after
what is difficult, and a pleasure in overcoming diffi-
culty for the sake of overcoming alone. For my part,
although I am extremely fond of wildfowl shooting,
I cannot seriously argue that the amount of pleasure
gained — putting aside the feeling just alluded to — in
any way compensates for the discomforts attending its
pursuit, yet I always pursue it when I have the chance,
and would uphold the sport most strenuously were I
able to do so. Of course there are many modes of

Watching for Wild Ducks

getting at wildfowl, but perhaps the most seductive
is watching for the ducks at night as -they come to
some favourite feeding-place. To do this the night
should be clear and starlit enough to enable you
to see the ducks against the sky or water. Moonlit
nights are not so favourable. A north-east wind and
a keen frost are also most useful aids. Of course
one must be well hidden from the birds, their
powers of sight being very gi-eat. Sometimes a tub
is sunk in the ground on the edge of the pool or
marsh where the ducks assemble, and if this be partly
filled with dry straw the shooter may keep himself
tolerably warm as he lies ensconced in it. It is
seldom, however, that such a shelter has been pre-
pared beforehand, and more frequently the driest
ditch one can find has to be chosen. But, whenever
it is possible, a boat should be used. The following
short sketch will, I think, give the reader a fair
idea of what watching for wildfowl really is.

It was one New Year's Eve. The winter had been
very mild and open up to Christmas Day, and then a
heavy fall of snow occurred, followed by a sharp frost,
which brought the wildfowl down from the moors
and mountain tarns to the more sheltered river, the
greater part of which was free from ice. The day
had been clear and cloudless ; there was a light breeze

64 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

from the north-east, and for the first time during the
winter did there seem a prospect of getting some
wildfowl shooting. Accordingly, Jack and I had
arranged to start about eight o'clock to an unfre-
quented part of the river, and we had sent a man
on with the punt up the river, to leave it in readiness
for us when we arrived at the spot.

After dinner, when we had joined the ladies, and
one of them began to sing one of those charming old
Scotch ballads, which in their simplicity are ten
times prettier and sweeter than the run of modern
music, I did not feel so ready to turn out in the
cold as I could have wished. Indeed, I had a sort
of half hope that Jack would feel equally loth to
leave the comfortable drawing-room ; and I resolved,
if he did not mention it, to be careful not to di'aw
his attention to our proposed shooting excursion. He
was too keen a sportsman, however, to let an oppor-
tunity slip, and, just as I thought he had forgotten all
about it, he said,

"Now, old fellow, time's up. It is no use your
making yourself comfortable in that easy chair. You
have got to change your dress, you know."

" It isn't eight o'clock yet," I pleaded.

« We must be there by eight o'clock, or we shall miss
the flight."

Watching for Wild Ducks 65

" Flight of what ? Where are you going, Jack ? "
asked his sister.

"Wild ducks — shooting," said he, answering both
her questions in the laconic and scarcely polite tone
which brothers often adopt in speaking to their
sisters.

" But you promised to play bezique with me," said
Miss Clara in a reproachful tone.

" Ten thousand pardons, but I am afraid Jack can
claim a prior promise;" and I unwillingly left the
room with him, to dress more suitably for the
occasion.

I had been loth to leave the drawing-room, but
when we got out into the keen, frosty air my spirits
rose, and the instinct of the sportsman began to thrill
through me, infusing its own peculiar pleasure. The
snow lay deep on the ground, and muffled the sound of
our footsteps. We took a short cut through the
wood, where, however, it was so dark that we could
scarcely find our way along the numerous rides.
Startled by the cracking of the rotten branches
underfoot, the ringdoves left their roosting-places
in the fiir trees, and shook down showers of snow
from the laden branches. Leaving the wood, we
crossed a meadow and took the path by the river's
side for nearly a mile. A sudden plunge of some

F

66 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

heavy body into the water close by attracted our
attention.

" What was that ? "

" An otter, I expect. If you see him, let fly at
him."

The otter, however, had disappeared, but on the
margin we found the remains of a fine trout. Master
otter must have been hungry, for the fish was nearly
all devoured, instead of only the dainty part on the
shoulder, known as the otter's bite.

" Are there many of those gentry about here ? "

" Yes, too many, unfortunately. We had a pack of
otter hounds here not long ago ; they started two otters,
but killed neither. The master of the hounds was
nearly drowned. He attempted to jump a narrow
part of the river by means of his spear, using it as
a leaping pole, but the end of it jammed in between
some rocks at the bottom, and he was checked in
mid air, and of course fell in. He was carried by the
force of the stream into deep water, and, not being
able to swim, he had a near squeak for it. Here is the
place where we are to shoot. I wonder where the boat
is ! Can you see it ? "

" No ; your man has either hidden it very carefully,
or it has been taken away."

"Ah, here it is, underneath this bush. Be careful

Watching for Wild Ducks 67

how you step in. You take the guns, and I'll paddle
her up."

The boat was a shallow, square-ended punt. It was
impelled either by a pole — what the Norfolk people
caU a " quant " — or by a paddle. The latter was like
a shovel in shape, with a long handle, and used in
this manner: the paddler sits in the stern and takes
long strokes on which side of the boat he prefers,
letting the paddle drag a little in the water at the
end of each stroke, in order to counteract the natural
tendency of the boat to turn to the opposite side to
that on which the paddle is worked. We soon
reached our position, which was a clump of bushes
and flags. Making the boat fast, stem and stern, we
sat down to wait patiently until the birds began to
arrive. It is needless to say we had a retriever with
us, as, owing to the current, the ducks might get
lost if left until the morning before being picked up,
as may be done if the sport is pursued on a pool or
mere. At the spot we were stationed the river took a
great curve, the part enclosed by which was mostly in-
accessible marsh. Our hiding-place was at the broad-
est part of the river, in the centre of the curve, so
that before us across the stream, and to the right and
left, up and down, we had a tolerably large expanse of
water on which the ducks were expected to alight first.

68 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

The current was slow, but there were eddies and
under-cuiTents which prevented its freezing, and made
the water flow and well up in a mysterious way.

There was time for a pipe ; and as we smoked we
watched the sky and the water. The sky was cloud-
less, and the stars shone out with that vivid brilliancy
peculiar to frosty nights. The wind blew across the
river, but the ripples raised were not sufficient to pre-
vent our seeing anything on its surface. The only
sounds audible were the lapping of the water along
the stones of the further bank, the gurgle of an eddy
suddenly waking up from its giddy, silent whirl into
a bubble and boil, and relapsing into quietude again,
and the occasional note of a bird. Presently I felt
Nero, who was lying against my leg, start up, and I
saw some object swimming across the stream towards
us. " It was only a water-hen, Nero, so lie down again,
good dog."

My legs were getting cramped, so I stood up in the
boat to stretch myself. A couple of ducks arose from
the marsh behind, and made away with a gi-eat
splutter.

" How the dickens did they come there ? I did not
see them come."

" We must keep a better look out. Sit dowTi and
put your pipe out."

Watching for Wild Ducks 69

" It must be nearly nine o'clock. Hist ! here they
are."

Three dark bodies shot into view against the sky,
disappeared for a moment against the dark back-
ground of the opposite bank, and then made three
distinct splashes in the water.

Bang ! bang ! went the guns, and two of the ducks
lay on their backs quite dead. The other rose, but
was dropped before he had got far. Nero easily and
quickly retrieved all three, and scarcely had he done
so ere he had to go into the cold water again for a
fourth duck, which came by itself, and hovered for a
second right over us,

" I say, can't we stop this dog shaking himself in
the boat ? I shall be wet through, directly."

"No; he can't do without his shake. Bear it
philos — missed, by Jupiter ! "

He had fired at a duck which was passing overhead
and behind him, and therefore had a very good chance
of getting off unhurt.

" Hark ! hark ! I believe that was the call of wild
geese. My man says he saw some on the hills. There !
look ! don't you see them, over the trees ? "

I certainly thought I saw some large dark bodies
passing at a great distance. They might have been
wild geese, but they did not come close enough to

70 Mountain, Meadow, and Mo^e

enable us to decide the point. A considerable time
elapsed without the appearance of any more ducks.
Then a flock of curlews passed overhead, at a very-
great height, making the air resound with their cries.
A heron flapped along down the river, just above the
surface of the water, evidently looking out for a place
to settle. Then a couple of teal came within shot, but
one only was secured. Then another duck, and then
it really seemed as if no more were coming. It must
be remembered that one cannot obtain a very large
bag at this sort of sport, except on preserved waters,
and we considered we had done very well indeed when
three more wild ducks were added to the heap in the
bottom of the boat — which certainly had not much
right to the name of " bag " (although in sporting par-
lance it would be called so), seeing that there was
nothing in the shape of a bag any^vhere near.

It was now getting late, the cherry brandy was
nearly finished, and the cold was every minute be-
coming more unbearable. Still, we did not like to
leave the spot while there was a chance of any more
ducks coming. The chance was but slight, as it was
so late, but it wanted only a quarter of an hour to
twelve o'clock, and we resolved to see the old year out
and the new year in before we left.

Even to the most thoughtless it is a solemn time

Watching for Wild Ducks 71

when the old year passes away, with its load of varied
experience of joy or sorrow, and the new year comes
in, fresh and unsullied, waiting for us to use it as we
wiR. Don't be afraid, dear reader, that I am going to
moralize. I write now more to amuse than to in-
struct, and serious thoughts are out of place ; but is it
to be wondered at that we neither of us spoke the
while the last moments of the old year died away in
the silence and stillness of the starlit night ? The
thoughts of each were busy with his own concerns,
and he forebore to interrupt the other. There was a
soughing of the water in the eddies, a sighing of the
wind over the rushes, a wailing of curlews in the
upper sky, and the new year was upon us.

" A happy new year to you, old man ! We had
better be going home."

May each year be a happy new year to all honest
men and good sportsmen !

72 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

X.

A DOG HUNT ON THE BEKWYNS

Thanks to the columns of the sporting papers, every
Englishman, whatever his occupation, is sufficiently
familiar with the details of fox-hunting and the other
kinds of hunting usually practised in merry England ;
but few, I fancy, have either seen or heard of a dog-
hunt. It has fallen to my lot to participate in such a
hunt — one, too, which was quite as exciting as a wolf-
hunt must have been in the olden time, or as that
most glorious of sports, otter-hunting, is now. Imagine
to yourself a three days' chase after a fierce and savage
dog, a confirmed sheep-worrier, and that in the midst
of the picturesque ruggedness and grandeur of the
Welsh hiUs.

Some three or four miles east from Bala, the Berwyn
mountains raise their heathery summits in the midst

A Dog Hunt on the Berwyns 73

of a solitude broken only by the plaintive bleat of a
lost sheep, or the shouts of men in search of it. For
miles the purple moorland rolls on without a moving
creature to break the stillness. Deep ravines run
down on either hand through green, ferny sheep-
walks, dotted with innumerable sheep. These ravines
in winter time, when the snow lies deep on the hills,
are, when not frost bound, roaring torrents. In the
summer huge blocks of stone are scattered about in
strange confusion, and a tiny stream can scarcely
find its way between them. Lower down still can
be seen, here and there, a farmhouse, in some sheltered
glen kept green all the year round by the trickling
moisture. Further off still, in the valleys, are villages
and hamlets tenanted by hardy Welsh sheep-farmers
and dealers.

In the least-exposed corners of the sheep-walks are
folds built of loose, un mortared stones, in which the
sheep huddle to find shelter from the fury of the
frequent storms which sweep over the mountains.

As the wealth of the hiU farmers consists chiefly
of sheep, if a dog once takes to worrying them, it is
either kept in dm^ance vile, or killed. The habit once
acquired is never got rid of; and after a sheep-dog
has once tasted blood, it becomes practically useless
to its owner. The quantity of sheep that can be

74 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

killed by such a dog in a short time is almost in-
credible.

It may be imagined, therefore, with what feelings
the Berwyn farmers heard of sheep after sheep being
killed on their own and neighbouring farms, by a dog
which nobody owned, and which ran loose on the
mountains, catering for itself Descending from the
lonelier part of the hills, it would \dsit the sheep-
walks and kill, as it appeared, for the pure love of
killing, in most cases leaving the mangled bodies on
the spot.

Month after month ran by, and it still eluded the
vengeance of the indignant hillmen. The most ex-
aggerated accounts were current respecting its size
and ferocity. No two versions agreed as to its colour,
though all gave it enormous size. As it afterwards
turned out, it was a black-and-white foxhound bitch.

Everybody carried a gun ; but, on the few occasions
that the dog came within shot, it appeared to be shot
proof The loss of numerous sheep was becoming
serious ; in some instances the farmers suffered heavily.
It was the staple topic of conversation. From time to
time paragraphs such as the following appeared in
the papers pubhshed in the neighbouring towns : —

" The Rapacious Dog. — The noted sheep-destroyer
on the Berwyn hills still continues to commit his

A Dog Htmt on the Be7''wyns 75

depredations, in spite of all efforts to kill him. The
last that was seen of him was on Sunday morning,
by Mr. Jones, on the Syria sheep-walk, when the dog
was in the act of killing a lamb. Mr. Jones was
armed with a gun at the time, and tried to get within
gunshot range ; but it seems that the animal can scent
a man approaching him from a long distance, so he
made off immediately. After it became known to the
farmers and inhabitants of Llandrillo that he had
been seen, a large party went up to the mountain
at once, and were on the hills all day; but nothing
more was heard of him till late in the evening, when
he was again seen on Hendwr sheep-walk, and again
entirely lost. On Monday a number of foxhounds
were expected from Tanybwlch, and, if a sight of
him can be obtained, no doubt he will be hunted
down and captured, and receive what he is fully en-
titled to — capital punishment."

On a bright May morning, five months after the
first appearance of the sheep-destroyer, a pack, con-
sisting of a dozen couples of fox-dogs, with their
huntsman, started up the lane from Llandderfel to
the hiUs, followed by a motley crowd of farmers and
labourers, armed with guns and sticks, and numbering
many horsemen among them.

Up the lane till the hedges gave place to loose stone

76 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

walls, higher still, till the stone walls disappeared, and
the lane became a track, and then a lad came leaping
down the hill, almost breathless, with the news that
the dog had been seen on a hill some six miles away.

Up the mountain, down the other side, up hill after
hill, following the sheep-tracks, the cavalcade proceeded,
until we reached the spot where our quarry had been
last seen. A line of beaters was formed across the
bottom of a glen, and proceeded up the hill. Up
above was Dolydd Ceroig, the source of the Ceriog,
which came through a rent in the moorland above.

A wilder scene could not be imagined. On either
side the hills rose up, until theu' peaks were sharply
defined against the blue. The steep sides were covered
with gorse and fern, with fantastic forms of rock peer-
ing through. At the bottom the infant Ceriog eddied
and rushed over and among rocks of every shape
and size, forming the most picturesque waterfalls. In
front, up the ravine, the numerous cascades leaped
and glittered, growing smaller and smaller, until the
purple belt of moorland was reached.

The hounds quartered to and fro, and the men
shouted in Welsh and English. The hardy Welsh
horses picked their way unerringly over the debris.

" Yonder he is," was the cry, as up sprang the chase
a hundred yards ahead. From stone to stone, fi-om

A Dog Hunt on the Berwyns jj

crag to crag, through the water, through the furze
and fern, fled the dog, and the foxhounds, catching
sight and scent, followed fast. At first they gained ;
but when the pursued dog found it was terrible
earnest for her, she laid herself well to her work,
running silently without a single yelp.

Startled by the unusual noise, the paii-ed grouse
flew whirring away. The sheep were scattered in
confusion, and a raven flew slowly away from a car-
case. Upward still we went, the footmen having the
best of it on the uneven ground.

" Upward still, to wilder, lonelier regions,
Where the patient river fills its urn
Prom the oozy moorlands, 'mid the boulders,
Cushioned deep in moss, and fringed with fern."

Now the hounds are over the crest, and soon we
followed them. We now had the bogs to contend
with, worse enemies than the rocks.

" Diawl ! John Jones, I am fast," we heard, and
saw an unfortunate pony up to its belly in the bog.
Another stumbles in a crevice, and sends its rider head-
long. We footmen have still the best of it, although it
is no easy matter to run through the heather.

We had now reached the other side of the mountain,
and were fast descending into the valley of the Dee.
There seemed a probability of our catching the quarry

78 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

here ; but no, she left the heather — much to my relief,
it must be confessed — and made for the valley, past a
farm ; now well in advance of her pursuers ; over the
meadows ; then, for a short distance, along the Bala
and Corwen line. Then past Cynwyd village, where
the crowd of people, and the various missiles sent after
her, failed to stop her. Then through the churchyard,
and along the road for some distance.

Here a man breaking stones hurled his hammer at
her, but missed her.

Turning again, she made for the hills, running with
unabated speed, although she had been hunted for
nearly ten miles. The original pursuers had melted
away, but we were reinforced by numbers of others.

Here I obtained a pony, and set off again.

By this time the hounds were in full cry up the
hillside. Mile after mile, over the hills we followed,
now only by scent, as the dog had made good use of
her time, while the hounds were hampered by people
crossing the scent at the village.

Night was rapidly coming on as we reached a
brook flowing from the moorland. Here the scent
was lost, and the wild dog was nowhere to be
seen. We held a council of war as to what was to be
done. I was the only horseman present at first, but
by-and-by the huntsman and others came up, bog-

A Dog Hunt on the Berwyns 79

besmeared, and in a vicious frame of mind. We looked
a queer group, as we sat in the light of some dead fern
that had been kindled. Some were sitting on stones ;
others kneeling down, drinking from the brook ; some
whipping the tired dogs in, and others gesticulating
wildly.

One thing was evident — nothing more could be done
that evening ; and the hounds were taken to their"
temporary home, to rest all the morrow, and resume
the hunt the day after.

On the morrow, from earliest dawn, messengers were
coursing the glens in all directions, with invitations to
people far and near to come and assist in the hunt.
For myself, I was glad to rest my tired limbs. Al-
though pretty well used to mountain work, I was
uite done up ; still, I resolved to see the end of the
fun, and hired another pony.

The day after, the men kept pouring into the place
of rendezvous, till I was sure the majestic hills had
never before witnessed such an assemblage. From far
and near they came. Many, like myself, were mounted
upon Welsh ponies. We commenced beating ; and the
Berwyns rang with the unearthly yells of the crowd.
We reached Cader Fronwen, one of the highest of the
Berwyns, without meeting with a trace.

Here I was put hors de combat by my pony sticking

8o Mountam, Meadow, and Mere

fast in the bog ; and, as every one was too busy to help
me, there I had to stay, and the hunt swept on. Soon
the noise of the beaters died away, and I was left
alone, sitting on a stone which peered out of the bog,
holding the bridle of my unfortunate steed, and every
now and then cutting heather, and pushing it under
its belly, to prevent the poor creature sinking any
deeper into the mire. " Here's a pretty fix," I thought.

Soon the mist which enveloped the summit of Cader
Fronwen came sweeping down the gorge in a torrent
of rain ; and, even if my pony had been free, it would
have been madness to stray from where I was, as I
could not see two yards before me, and I did not know
the paths.

By-and-by I heard the huntsmen coming back, and
then saw them looming gigantic in the mist. After
having extricated my pony, as I was chilled and wet
through, I made the best of my way to Llangynog,
while the rest of the party — or multitude, rather —
made for the Llanrhaiadr hills, but, as I afterwards
learnt, without success. Tired with a hard and long
day's work, the men separated, and made ofi" for their
respective homes. No traces of the dog had been found,
although every likely hill had been well scoured.

Some people averred that the devil must be in the
dog. The major part of the farmers believed that the

A Dog Hunt on the Berwyns

savage animal had been frightened away, and most
probably would not be met with again for some time.
Acting under this conviction, the hounds were sent
back by train the next morning.

The morrow was beautifully fine ; and, little expect-
ing I should see the death of the sheep-worrier, I had
gone for a ramble over the hills, anned with my geo-
logical hammer. I was sitting on a slab in an isolated
quarry, watching the varying tints of the hill side, as
shadow and sunshine coursed each other over the
tender spring green of the grass, the darker green of
the new fern, and the warm yellow-brown of the last
year's fronds, and admiring the contrast of the grey
rocks angrily jutting out amidst the loveliness, and
the whole crowned with the purple heather, rising
above a narrow belt of mist, when a man, gun in
hand, came clinking down the sloping rubbish, digging
his heels in at each step, and excitedly told us — the
two or three quarrymen and myself — that he had seen
the dog lying on a rock about a mile away.

A boy was despatched to summon the neighbouring
farmers. In a very short space of time about fifty
people were on the spot, armed with guns of every
conceivable make and age. Stealthily creeping up
the hill, we were sent in different directions, so as to
surround the sheep-walk where she lay.

82 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

In half an hour's time, a gradually lessening circle
was formed, all proceeding as silently as possible, and
taking advantage of every tuft of fern or stunted
thorn, so as to get as near as possible before arousing
the sleeping dog.

There was a distance of about eighty yards between
each man, when the brute rose up, and stretched her-
self, showing her white and glistening fangs.

Uttering a low growl, as she became aware of her
position, she set off in a long, swinging gallop towards
the heather. Just in that direction there appeared to
be a man missing from the cordon, and a wide gap was
left, through which it seemed probable she would
escape, and a storm of shouts arose. Just, however,
as escape seemed certain, a sheet of flame poured out
from behind a clump of thorn bushes and ferns, and a
loud report went reverberating over the glens. The
doer's neck turned red, and she rolled over and over,
uttering yelp after yelp in her agony. There was a
miscellaneous charge from all sides. Crash came the
butt-end of the gun which had shot her on her body
with such force, that the stock was splintered. Bang !
bang ! everybody tried to get a hit at her, even after
she was dead. When life was quite extinct, we all
gathered together, and a whoop of triumph awoke
the echoes, startling the lapwings on the moorland.

A Dog Hunt on the Berwyns 83

As we marched down to the village we fired a volley
in token of our success, and cheer after cheer told of
the gladness with which it was welcomed by the
villagers. The man who fired the lucky shot was
carried through the streets of the village on the
shoulders of two stout quarrymen, and the whole
population gave themselves a holiday and made merry.
A subscription was started, and contributed to hand-
somely, in order to pay for the hounds and other
expenses.

Upon examination, the bitch was found to be
branded on the left side with the letter " P " ; so if
any of my readers have lost such a dog, they will
know what has become of it.

I do not suppose that a more exciting chase was
ever witnessed since the old wolf-hunting days.

The reader may think that a great deal of fuss was
made about a small matter, and that the dog might
have more easily been secured, but those who know
the -district will know how easy it would be for a
wild animal to evade all pursuit in the solitudes and
fastnesses of the hills. A careful stalk might have
brought a shooter within shot, but the excitable
natures of the Cymry would scarcely be satisfied with
such a finale under the circumstances. It must be
a,dmitted that the damage done by the dog was suffi-

84

Mountain, Meadow, a7id Mere

ciently provocative of excitement, and the desire to
avenge their losses to make any trouble in the fulfil-
ment seem small.

It may seem strange to many, as it did to me, that
foxhounds should chase one of their own breed, but
the fact remains that they did so.*

* The occurrence above related is really a fact, and caused a great
deal of excitement in the neighbourhood at the time. My account of
it is taken from good authority, and I have since had it confirmed in
every particular by eye-witnesses of the hunt. The article first ap-
peared in " London Society," and was copied in the local papers, so
that if I had failed in telling the tale as it was told to me, I should
soon have met with contradiction. The dog is stuffed, and I believe
may be seen at an inn at Llandrillo. — G. C. D.

DOG WORRYING SHEEP.

( 85 )

XL

VIENIEWSIDE

ViRNlEWSlDE has seen some of my best remembered
wanderings. To me the Virniew is one of the most
attractive of rivers. Never, in all its course, so boister-
ous as its neighbour, the sacred Dee, you are not over-
whelmed by the roar with which the latter deadens
your angling faculties, and absorbs you in oblivious
reverie as you stand gazing at the tumultuously rush-
ing water.

My first acquaintance with it commenced when I
was about thirteen years old. A friend and I came
upon it at its source, after a toilsome walk over the
hills from Bala. It was a terribly hot day. We had
lost our way more than once, and had been chevied by
a diminutive black bull of exceedingly fierce aspect
and savage disposition. After our troubles it was

86 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

delicious to come upon the tiny, lucid stream, and
follow it down all the way to Llanwddyn, never losing
the sound of its cheerful murmur. The inn we stayed
at — I forget the name — is endeared to my memory by
the excellent provender set before us, and the moderate-
ness of the charges. After our meal we visited the
stream, here of a good size, and flowing for some dis-
tance through very boggy land. The trout were
numerous and large, and, from what I hear, have not
deteriorated since. Few people seem to ascend so
high, and I believe the place is comparatively free
from the crowd of Lancashire anglers, who literally
swarm on Virniewside at Easter. It was at this place
that an eminent solicitor of my acquaintance went
poaching — in all innocence, though, for he was no
angler. Perched astride the shoulders of a Welshman
who knew the bog, none of his clients would have
recognized their staid adviser, as he eagerly watched
the operations of a gang of netters sweeping the stream.
With his fingers clenched in the red hair of his two-
footed steed, our friend tracked the trout to their
holes, and was with difliculty restrained from taking
a header after a three-pounder that threatened to
elude the nets.

From Llanwddyn to Meifod we have twenty miles
or more of good trout- water. With this part I am but

Virniewside 87

little acquainted. Above Meifod the river is increased
by the accession of the Banw, by some called the true
Virniew. For exactness, I ought here to state that
the name of the river is properly spelt " Vyrnwy/' but
I prefer following the English style, which gives a
better idea to a " Sassenach " of the pronunciation.
Below Meifod are still some good trout reaches, but
the pike are gaining an ascendancy which seriously
interferes with the welfare of the red-spotted gentle-
men. I heard of a Manchester man taking an enormous
number of small jack with the minnow one Easter
week. As far as I can see, there are no very large
ones.

Above Pontyscowrhyd weir are some excellent deeps
and back-waters for pike, and some good ground for
wUdfowl. A few winters ago I shot a bird here
which was wholly new to me, being, I believe, rare so
far north. I had to retrieve it myself off some rotten
ice, over which I had to crawl at full length. It was
a fine specimen of the water-rail. It was here also
that a friend of mine got bogged, and had to be hauled
out with ropes, minus his wading boots. A little
lower down, I once counted more than twenty salmon
on one ford, and picked up half as many lying dead
on the banks. This is not an uncommon siofht on
the Virniew. On the first day of the season, and

Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

a few days after this, I saw the river netted for a
considerable distance above and below this ford, and
not a single fish of any kind was caught. The next
fishing station is Llansaintflfraid, and for a long way
above the weir are deep stretches of water, that just
above the mill being particularly deep.

I believe this water holds plenty of pike, though I
never had much sport in it myself The last time I
was there, not very recently, the water was dotted
with trimmers — quite allowable, perhaps, when the
object is to thin the pike and preserve the trout, but,
nevertheless, not at all pleasant to any one who carries
a trolling rod. From Llansaintflfraid to the mouth of
the river Tanat I have always had my best sport with
the pike. There are two spots where I rarely failed to
have a run — one just opposite the first bush going
up-stream from, and on the same side as, the Tanat,
and just where the deep begins to tail off into a rapid ;
and the other about eighty yards higher, where some
sunken trees project into the stream. It was a little
above this last spot that nine of the largest perch I
ever saw were caught by a fellow-angler, one bright,
hot summer's afternoon, when the water was perfectly
clear. The shoal of fish slowly circled round the bait,
and cunning Griffith guided the worm accommodatingly
to the noses of the largest.

Virniewside 89

The Tanat is a capital trout stream, but a great part
of it is preserved by Sir Watkin Wynn, and can only
be fished by ticket. All the way down to Llanymynech
the Vimiew has holes where the big chub sleep away
the lazy day, under the swaying branches of the wil-
lows, and shallows where the tender-mouthed grayling
hover, and now and then the large Severn trout find
their way up, and make glad the heart of some fortu-
nate angler. Below Llanymynech the river retains the
same character. The trout are gradually dying out,
and the coarse fish reign in their stead. This is much
to be regretted ; yet it is an ill wind that blows nobody
any good, and it is pleasant to see the numerous
bottom-fishers from distant towns, who would never
dream of throwing a fly, but who enjoy themselves
vastly, sitting under the shade of the willows, and
studjdng intently the movements of their floats as
they are influenced by the seductive bite of the chub
or the rapid dash of the perch. Pleasant is it to them,
and who shall say that it is not as profitable as the
more scientific amusement we indulge in ? The fords
are fewer and more gravelly, and the deeps are longer
and muddier, as the Vimiew nears the Severn; the
pebbles give way to gravel, and the gravel to clayey
soil and rich alluvial loam.

While canoeing one summer, I was often seriously

90 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

bothered by the clay banks that abound near Melverley,
where the rivers join. These banks reach up in steep
ledges and pinnacles close to the surface, and the canoe
would drive on to one without warning, for they are
not easily seen. With deep water before and behind,
and perhaps on either side, or, what is worse, tenacious
mud, it was a difficult and dangerous job to get free.
Many of the labourers in this neighbourhood make a
good thing of setting night-lines along the deeps,
nominally to catch eels ; but of course, if any other
fish gets on, it is not thrown back again. I have seen
large baskets of fish caught in this manner exposed
for sale in Oswestry streets.

When canoeing, I came suddenly upon a man, waist-
deep in the water, shovelling the mud out on the bank.
In reply to my inquiry, he said he was looking for
" lamperns " to bait his eel-lines wath.

Between Llanymynech and Melverley is Pentre-
heilin Mill, and it was to this place that my last
Vimiewside ramble was directed. It was a beautiful
day, early in the autumn, and, mounted on my bicycle,
I threaded the fragrant lanes with the intention of
enjoying the holiday and a brisk ride through a
pleasant country, that stretched,

" With all its autumn bowers.
And crowded fai'nis and lessening towers,"

Virmewside 9 1

till it mingled in the distance, not with the " bounding
main," but with the blue haze that hid the far-off hills.
Alas for the vanity of human wishes ! A plague of
gTiats, which visited the country that year, was then at
its height, and into my eyes and nose and mouth they
came by hundreds ; not pleasant at any time, but
doubly unpleasant when steering a bicycle along rutty
lanes. At last, fairly blinded, I ran against a heap of
stones while descending a steep bank, and had, without
doubt, the worst fall it has been my fate to have in all
my bicycle experience. Bicycle, basket, rods, and
myself all appeared tied up in an inextricable knot.
However, I was very little the worse, and the river
was reached at last without any further tumbles.

Gudcreons had to be cauoht for bait, and while catch-
ing them I conversed with the miller. He told me
that the grayling and trout fishing had fallen off very
considerably of late, but that the pike and chub were
on the increase. He once killed a seven-pound pike
\^dth no less than fourteen samlets and small trout in
its maw. In the spring, when the water is high, great
numbers of jack ascend the brook Morda (which here
flows in) up to the mill, in a vain attempt to get
higher.

" We caught a good many with the net a fortnight
ago," said the miller.

92 Mountain, Meadow, a7id Mere

" With the net ? Confound it ! have you left any
forme?"

" Oh, yes. One I should take to be over ten pounds
broke the net and escaped. It was in the thu'd hole
below."

I fished carefully down to the hole indicated
without a run. The river was low and clear, and
the banks were high and wooded. Where the big
pike lay there was a slowly-circHng eddy, right under
some overhanging bushes, whose branches trailed in
the water. A difficult place to fish ; but, casting with
all care, I cleverly pitched the bait, armed with two
triangles and a large hook, right into the thick of
the branches. Some time was spent in getting clear,
and, as I had only two hours to spare, it was, to say
the least, annoying — especially as the big fish was
doubtless lying snug in his hole witnessing my dis-
comfiture. Some distance below, where the stream
flows broad and deep, with a bed of weeds on either
side, I had a good run fi-om beneath some floating
duckweed. After a sharp fight, I lost a nice fish.
The river here makes a sweep round a large field, and
doubles back almost upon itself. I walked across the
neck of this peninsula, and, casting in the eddy at
the confluence of the Morda, had a decided run. It
was dusk, and I allowed the fish too much line.

Virniewside 93

getting him fast in something at the bottom. Laying
the rod down, I ran up to the mill, and, impressing
a boy into my service, we loosened the punt and
drifted down to where the line was fast. With the
aid of a pikel I freed it from some sunken branches.
The jack was still on, and I soon landed it — a nice
little fish of four pounds.

It was then time to go, and the ride back in the
cool moonlight was delightful. I halted at the top of
a hill to rest, and how solemn and beautiful the
night was ! All the plain before me was shrouded
in mist — an ever-changing shadowy sea, with island
trees and copses peering through it. The sky above
was clear, and out of the profound silence the moon
looked down chilly and clearly upon the earth that
was " sleeping ofi* the fever of the day." The weird
stillness was only broken at times by the shriek of
an owl that was flitting over the meadows, and the
churring of a pair of nightjars around an oak. I
stayed for a long time, thinking — but what do men
think of on such nights ? I venture to say that
most men's thoughts would run in the same channel
as mine ; and this is, perhaps, not the place to talk of
these times and things.

To sum up ; the Vnniew is rapidly (save in its upper
waters) ceasing to be a trout stream. As a salmon

94 Motmtain, Meadow, and Mere

stream I never had much opinion of it. It has good
spawning beds, but few of those haunts where the
salmon love to lie and rest. For jack and bottom
fishers the river has many attractions, and to them
T can heartily recommend its willowy banks.

( 95 )

XII.
APHEODITE

The wind that swept along the shore

In one grand psean died away,
And with the last faint echo of its roar

Far o'er the deep there 'rose the break of day ;
The heavy storm-clouds parted right and left,
Red burned the flashes through the rugged cleft.

And then the sun clomb in the sky.

To send a broad'ning crimson track
Across the waves to where the wet sands lie,

A glistening scythe that cuts the bold waves back ;
And now and then, with quick' ning interval,
Gleamed through the waves a light most magical.

96 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

And now the day was well begun,

The sunrise rays had left the sea,
The shamefaced clouds had fled before the sun,

Of fairest blue the heavenly canopy ;
'Twas then a wave that overtopped the rest
Surged on, and bore tlie Goddess on its crest.

She crouched within a monster shell.
Her blue-black hair around her clung.

As shaking off a heaven-created spell.

With sudden motion to her feet she sprung ;

And iridescent gleams of green and gold

Flashed from the shell in glories manifold.

Abroad her massy hair she threw.

And bared her white limbs to the day ;

With happy wonder in her eyes' deep blue
She glanced around the circle of the bay ;

And from the inner chambers of the shell

A sweet ^olian music 'gan to swell.

Then when her shell-car touched the strand

She scanned the fertile valleys o'er.
And, glad at heart, she raised her pink- white hand

And sang, " I love, I love," and evermore
With that sweet song and those sweet words doth ring
The world where Aphrodite seeks her king.

( 97 )

XIII.
BURN FISHING

Every trout-fisher knows a spot like that described
by a Shropshire clergyman in the following lines : —

' ' Where round about the mossy stones the glimmering water whirls,
With bubbles making rings of light and strewing shadowy pearls ;
Where through the sunlights and the shadows, by the ancient roots,
Under the grey arch fringed with fern, the arrowy ousel shoots.
Where the larches' glorious greenness shines all up the slanting

height —
Greenness shining, not a colour, but a tender living light."

And although he may not be able to reproduce in
print, for the benefit of others, the impressions that
the beauty of earth, wood, water, and sky make upon
his mind, or though he may not even care to talk
about them, for fear of being accused of " sentiment "
(of which most men have a wholesome horror), yet he
feels them all the same, and perhaps all the more
deeply.

98 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

The praises of trout fishing have, goodness knows,
been sung often enough, yet there are hundreds for
whom the dose cannot be made large enouo'h. With
the hope, therefore, of pleasing these, and of bringing
to the recollections of the elders of the guild the
keen delights and healthy excitements of their
younger days, I ask my readers to accompany me
on another fishing excursion.

It is a sunshiny afternoon late in April. A few
showers in the morning have wakened into life all the
myriad forms of animal and insect life that we see
about us as we strike into the wood. The singing
of the birds is almost deafening. No wonder they
put forth all their powers on such a day as this ; I,
too, feel inclined to burst into song, but am restrained
by the knowledge that I have no voice. My vocal
powers have been so persistently denied by an other-
wise appreciative family, that I do not care to commit
myself Never mind, I can listen. As we wend our
way along the mossy glades, the rabbits flit across in
nvmibers, giving a derisive flip of their white tails as
they seem to recognize the harmlessness of the fishing
rods we carry. Acting on the rule that it is always
best when walking along the side of a hill to keep
high, we proceed along the crest of the wood and
listen to the brawling stream which flows far down on

BtLTu Fishing 99

our left. We catch glimpses of it sometimes thi'ough
the lacing branches and the " tender, living light " of
the fresh spring foliage. We are not going to angle in
a river, but a brook, or, more properly, I suppose, a
bui^n, seeing that it is a mountain stream. Here we
are, at last, at the path which leads down to it, and
a quick run, with a leap or two over fallen logs,
brings us to its banks. The rain of the morning
has raised the water a little, but has not discoloured
it much ; the mud soon clears away in a quick run-
ning stream. It is in famous order for fly-fishing,
though.

It is quite probable that a wonn would be as suc-
cessful as a fly, and could be more easily worked in
and out of the crannies, and under the roots and bisf
stones ; but, as we aim at being thoroughly sportsman-
like, worm fishing is tabooed, and — we had no time to
get good bait before starting. How easy it is to be
virtuous when we can't be otherwise ! Well ! on with
your fly — only one. It does not matter much what
' fly it is, so that it is in season and has a pretty rough
body to hide the hook, for sometimes you are con-
strained for room in burn fishing, and you may not
be able to give sufficient life to your fly to induce
a trout to run at it without dehberation. Suppose,
for instance, you had crept through the underwood to

lOO Mountain, Meadow, aiid Mere

the tail of a pool to which there was no possible access
higher up, and you have to cast up stream, and let the
fly float down towards you ; then it is very important
that it should have the look of a drowning caterpillar,
and have its sting well concealed from the spotted
gentleman, who sails up to it without hurrying himself,
for he knows that it cannot escape him. Then you
may have the satisfaction of knowing that in all pro-
bability he will not escape you.

Generally speaking, one man is quite enough to flsh
a small burn ; but, if there are two, let them take the
pools turn and turn about, which is generally easy
enough, if the banks are open, as, owing to the
sinuosity of the brook, the pools, though close to
each other, are yet not within fish sight. Each hole
has a gradually deepening shallow above it, which is
usually productive, and this can always be fished
without interfering with the tail of the next. After
first wetting our casts in the shallow under the
wooden bridge, we are ready to begin. Now, it will
not do to stand close to the stream unless there is
covert; and here there is none. The brook flows
through a green, mossy glade for about eighty yards,
without a bush on its banks, and in no place more
than six inches deep. So crouch do^vn at some dis-
tance off", and watch the sparkling water, golden-

Bur 71 Fishing loi

brown against the gTavel, and by-and-by you will
see shadows hovering here and there, which you
know to be trout on the feed. As the capture of
one will effectually frighten the others in its imme-
diate neighboin"hood, you may as well look out for
the biggest. There he is, under the lee of the op-
posite bank. Now, throw just above him. Ah ! you
have thrown too high, and one of the small fiy has
darted in, and in an instant is hopping about on
the grass. That is a pity; but it cannot be helped,
so basket it. We should throw it in again if we
were fishing in a river, but we cannot afford to do
so here. And now, for a while, we shall have a series
of nice pools, from each of wliich it is easy to pick
a trout, or, perhaps, two ; but the cream of the sport
awaits us fui-ther on. For a quarter of a mile the
water comes down in a series of small cascades,
wildly huiTying over the rocks, and boiling furiously
in deep pools under overhanging ledges. On either
bank, all the way up, the alders, hazels, and brambles
crowd and hang over the deeply-cut channel, form-
ing an impervious barrier to the thin-skinned
angler, and meeting overhead ia a leafy tunnel, up
which we must wade. Ah, how cool the water is !
Take care how you make your way over the polished
stones : you may easily slip in up to your waist.

I02 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

There, you've done so already,. and nearly broken the
top joint of your rod against the rock. You must
shorten your cast to about 3 ft., and wind up till the
gut touches the top ring. Then pitch your fly against
that large, mossy stone that breaks the rush of the
water ; then, as the fly falls back into the eddy, look
out for squalls. There, you've got him, and a nice
one, too : but the difficulty is to get him out. You
cannot lift your rod, because of the branches overhead ;
so you let the line run out, and push the rod further
up stream, and move up yourself till you come within
reach of your captive, who is held, by the help of a
good yard of gut and a stiff rod, right under a little
cascade, and you insinuate your fingers softly under
him, and ladle him out. Risky work, undoubtedly, but
all the more pleasant because exciting. There will be a
little more room higher up, and you may probably get
more than one fish out of each pool. This one is a
good half-poimder, and in a certain hole further on
you may expect to get one three-quarters, or, if you
are extremely lucky, a pound in weight ; for the deep
holes sometimes shelter uncommonly good fish, and
just here are not sufficiently "comeatable" to be
cleaned out every summer by the farm lads groping
and netting with two pole nets, after tlie manner of
their kind.

Burn Fishing 103

The reader must imagine the captui-e of the succeed-
ing fish for himself. To help his imagination, let him
think of the dark, cool water, eddying in and out of
the cracks and crannies, boiling over the polished
locks, and splashing the long golden-brown and dark-
gTeen moss on the perpendicular rocky sides of the
chasm — for such it is — up which we wade ; of the
graceful ferns and odorous flowers that grow on every
ledge, of the drooping branches and pendent wild
roses, and, in spite of the deafening noise of the water
and the monotone of the insects, of the strange feeling
of loneliness and quiet which — '■ — Murder ! what's
that ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! While you were sitting on a stone
fastening on another fly (the last was sucked under
that root and lost), you were not aware that your
head was within a foot of a dipper's nest, and that, just
as you were turning your head to seek some fresh
V)eauty to descant upon, its occupant, thinking all was
not quite as it ought to be, or alarmed at the idea of
a poet being so near her, left her nest with a mighty
whirr, brushing your face as she went. Enough to
startle anybody, wasn't it ? What a 'cute place for a
nest, under the edge of the bank, and looking like a
magnified wren's ; and how effectually that drooping
fern conceals it ! The five pure white eggs are quite
hot, and will soon be hatched. It is late, though,

I04 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

for the dippers to breed, for I have found their nests
early in March ; but, perhaps, her first was plundered.

Now we come to the last and best pool of all, and
oh ! for the skill of — but no ! no one's skill could
reproduce that picture. The stream, after a wild leap
over a ledge, spreads out to some five yards in width,
deep at the upper end, but shallowing as it broadens-
Through the leafy archway, which there comes sud-
denly to an end, you see a small meadow bright with
flowers, a picturesque farm and mill, and then the hill
side, and, beyond and above, the bright, fleecy blue.
On either side the wood comes down to the brook, and
here and there we see the blue haze of the hyacinths,
while through the green roof a marveUous chequer-
work of light and shadow falls on the rippling water,
and is thrown back in quivering reflections on the
rocks and tree stems. To crown the picture, on a pro-
jecting branch, and in a patch of sunlight, sits a king-
fisher gorgeously attired. But we are fishing, not
painting — so silence. There, if that beauty is not
within an ounce of a pound, I am much mistaken !

Turn them out on the grass in the open — two
dozen ! That's what I call good sport for bm-n fishing,
and sport, also, that you will only get in the spring. By-
the-by, how dapjpled many of the fish were when they
came out of the Avater ; sometimes one whole side

Burn Fishing 105

would be light-coloured and the other dark, or maybe
the shoulder light and the rest of the body dark, or
otherwise curiously varied. This, I suppose, is caused
by the fish lying in deep holes, against the stones, and
with but a scanty allowance of light. They are begin-
ning to get of a uniform colour now, though.

Over the crest of the hill yonder you come upon
boggy land; and, although the brook there is very
small, it contains some fair-sized fish of a deep rich
colour, and were it not getting late we would take
a cast there ; but it is time to be turning. When
we get to the high road we see two or three anglers
who have been fishing in the lower waters of the
brook, where the fishing is much easier, though to my
mind not so pleasant. That man in a mason's dress
with bulging coat pockets, has, ten to one — for I know
him of old — been fishing with preserved salmon
roe ! * Here is a city youth out for a week's fishing
in the country. Look at his big basket and bran new
rod. Poor fellow ! the former is empty, and its owner
is downhearted. He probably does not admire burn
fishing ; we who are successful do.

Burn fishing, however, can only be enjoyed to
advantage in the spring. In the summer heavy rains

* It is the most deadly bait known, and its use is prohibited by Act
of Parliament, under a penalty of £2.

io6 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

will bring the fish upon the feed, but as the water is
then thick, the worm (or sometimes a small minnow)
must be used. Often, too, on hot bright days, when
the water is low and clear, a small weU-scoured red-
worm will take them when nothing else will. Of
course one cannot expect the sport in burn fishing
that one gets in a river, but nevertheless it is very
enjoyable.

A TANGLED SKEIN.

( I07 )

XIV.
LLYN CADWS

A POACHING REMINISCENCE

We were a merry party at Sandmouth — Eva and
Winnie Morton, their cousin Carrie Morton, their
brother Jack, Mrs. Morton, Tom Seymour and myself,
Alec Hinton. We had the most glorious rambles over
the Welsh Hills, that hemmed us in all round, save
where the broad estuary with its overhanging woods
swept back in a succession of lake-like stretches for
miles inland.

I shall never forget that summer holiday, nor how,
when the dusk of the evening came on, we used to
saunter along the promenade, and watch the sun set
far over the Cardigan bay, and Bardsey island showed
distinct against the rosy light. One day we had all,
with the help of donkeys for the ladies, scrambled to
the top of a mountain second only to Cader in height.

1 08 Mountam, Mcadoiu, and Mere

It was rather misty immediately below us, especially in
one hollow, but to seaward it was beautifully clear,
and we could see the white line of surf that marks the
dangerous causeway of St. Patrick reaching far out
into the bay. Suddenly the mist opened in the hollow
where it was deepest, and we saw the gleam of water.

" Hollo ! what Llyn is that ? " exclaimed Jack.

Seymour pulled out a guide book, and referring to
the map — " Wliy, it must be Llyn Cadws, where that
old guide said there were such big pike."

"What do you say to going down to it?" I said,
" that is, if the ladies don't mind staying here alone
for a time."

" You two fellows go, and I'll stay," said Sejrmour.

Morton and I soon ran down to it, rousing a heron
and a couple of wild ducks as we did so. It was some
four or five acres in extent. On one side the cliffs rose
perpendicularly from the water in some places, and in
others the debris had formed a rugged and picturesque
shore. On the other side it was shallow and open,
and — a rare thing in mountain lakes — a thick bed of
weeds reached some distance out.

Jack, who was prowling along here, stopped, and
sinking down on his knees beckoned me to do the like
and join him. I did so, to the no small detriment of
my cuticle, and saw a sight which aroused all my fish-

Llyn Cadws 109

ing proclivities in a moment. A large pike was bask-
ing over the weeds, eyeing us savagely.

" Twelve pounds, if an ounce," whispered Morton, as
the big fish slowly backed out of sight in that myste-
rious way that fish will disappear if they are looked
at but not rudely startled.

A splash, and then another, in the middle, showed
us that there were, as indeed the gTiide-book would
have told us, some large trout in the tarn. Tlie pre-
sence of pike was a guarantee, too, that there wouldn't
be many small ones.

Two or three days afterwards Morton led me down
to the Railway Station, and pointed triumphantly to a
large hamper. On unfastening the lid, I saw that it was
full of "trimmers," which, for the benefit of the un-
initiated, I may explain are round pieces of wood with
lines fastened to them. These, when baited with
small fish, are set to float on a river or lake, and sad
havoc they make among the pike. They are not, of
course, considered fair contrivances amongst sportsmen,
and so I exclaimed, " Why, you poaching sinner, what-
ever are you going to do with those ? "

" Set them in Llyn Cadws."

" But how will you get them there ? "

" Donkeys," he answered laconically, as he tied the
lid on as:ain.

no Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

" And how will you set them, and take them \x\)
again without a boat ? "

" Sent up to Dolgelly for a coracle : there it is," said
he, pointing to one of those desperately unsafe
washing-tub-like things, made of laths, and covered
with tarred canvas, which the Welsh fishermen use.

" And bait ? " I again asked.

A wink was the sole answer.

" I'm game, old fellow, though I'd rather go and fish
fair ; but it will be a bit of an adventure, and there
are two things in regard to which I could never resist
temptation, and those are — falling in love and getting
into a scrape."

I left the arrangements to Morton, and the next
afternoon a couple of donkeys awaited us at the door
of the hotel, laden with the coracle, trimmers, pro-
visions, a tarpaulin and some short poles for a tent,
and a big bait tin, which, when I took a sly peep at it,
I found to be full of samlets and small trout neatly
packed in bran. I thought it best not to ask where
they came from, especially as a man, who looked like
a river-watcher, was dodging about in a suspicious
manner, and taking great interest in our proceedings.
To these impedimenta I added my pike and fly rods,
with the et ceteras.

We intended to set the trimmers that evening, and

Llyn Cadws 1 1 1

stay on the mountain all night. The ladies promised
to join us on the morrow, and assist in taking up the
trimmers. So, with a boy to di'ive the donkeys, off
we started. It was a hot Aug-ust day, but Cader
Idi'is wore his cap of cloud, and we knew that rain was
not far off. Up we went with frequent pauses, osten-
sibly to look at the piled-up hills or the majestic
curves of the estuary, do'>vn which a yacht was di'op-
ping with the tide, her sails hanging idle, with not a
breath of air to fill them. It was oppressive enough
for thunder, and we were still some distance from the
Llyn, when our donkey boy called out, "The storm
is coming, sii'," and, looking in the direction of his up-
lifted stick, we saw the far-off hills suddenly covered
with mist, that tumbled and tossed about and whirled
down the glens in a manner suggestive of violent com-
motion.

" Look out for the squall ! down with ^^our top-
sails ! " roared Seymour to the yacht below, forgetful
in his excitement of the distance that separated us
from her, for she seemed so dii-ectly below us, that one
would almost fancy we could throw a stone on her
deck.

There were sharp eyes on board, however ; and, as
we crouched under the lee of a rock, we had the satis-
faction of seeing her taking in sail, and preparing to

112 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

meet the storm. Then the blinding rain hid every-
thing from our sight. It was soon over, and the sun
shone vsdth increased brilliancy. The yacht was some
two miles further down the estuary, shaking out the
reefs in her mainsail. We hurried to reach the tarn,
and saw the water literally boiling with trout, while the
dashes along the margin told us that the pike were on
the run. The coracle was soon launched, the trimmers
baited ; and while Seymour and Morton proceeded to
set them, I took my fly rod and set to work with a
will, for the trout in all these Llyns are very capri-
cious, and there was no knowing how soon they
might leave off feeding.

The two in the coracle did not begin very auspi-
ciously, for they went on spinning round at a tremen-
dous rate, and made progress in every du-ection but
the one they desired. At last, profiting by my
directions, Morton got into the figure-of-eight stroke
by which these boats are impelled, and they got along
more smoothly. They set the trimmers at regular dis-
tances along the edge of the weeds, around the rocks,
by stones, and finished with a line straight across
the tarn to windward, so that they might diift across.
In the mean time I had landed two speckled beauties,
one two pounds in weight, and the other one pound
and a half ; and by the time they had finished their

Llyn Cadws 113

work the ripples had died away, the trout had gone
off the feed, and I laid down my rod and prepared for
a bathe. Oh ! the delights of a header off a rock ten
feet high, and an unknown depth of clear, cold water
below you ! And that tarn vxis cold. We swam across
and back again, and then, after dressing, Seymour and
the boy started off home, with the intention of bring-
ing the ladies up the next day. Left to ourselves,
Morton and I rigged up our tent, lit a fii'e of dry
gorse and fern, broiled one of the trout, and then
concocted a glass of gi'og to accompany our cigars.

Reader, if you are fond of the mysterious, and de-
light in supernatural stories, spend a night on the
mountains. You will soon be in a condition to believe
the most marvellous fairy-tales that ever were told by
the light of peat fires, in lonely mountain cottages. It
was very awful and solemn, that gTadual approach of
night, amid the stillness of the hills — stillness that
was only broken now and then by the cry of the
lapwing, a cry that always makes my blood curdle
when heard at night, when it comes with startling dis-
tinctness upon the ear. We could almost fancy at
times that it came from those ghost-like forms of mist,
that rose in slender columns from the water, and which
needed but little imagination to transfer them into fays
and water sprites emerging for their nightly gambols.

I

1 1 4 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

Few other sounds reached the ear. Somethnes the
splash of some monster in the pool, or the rattle tA a
stone down the mountain side, broke the quiet. Witli
the natural instincts of men in such a position, we
spoke in whispers ; and if now and then we made an
effort and spoke in our natural voice, it went echoing
so loudly from rock to rock, and seemed so out of
place, that we gladly lowered our tone, and half ex-
pected the spirits of the night to take instant ven-
geance on the two daring men who had invaded theii'
solitudes. Wrapped in our rugs, on odorous beds of
fern, and well protected from the mist by the tar-
paulin, we were soon in a sound sleep. When I awoke
the dark was just lifting ; and arousing Morton, we
got up and stretched ourselves, and then climbed tt»
the top of the mountain to watch the sunrise. Below
us all was one sheet of mist. To the eastward the
mountain tops peeped above it, and were just fringed
with the daylight. The first silvery white of the dawn
changed into a beautiful green, which rose higher and
higher, and diminished in size, until it became a mere
streak between the more brilliant colours of red and
orange. One by one the rosy rays darted across the
mist to our feet, and at last the sun was fairly up. The
clouds then began to roll up from the hill sides, and
melt away in the blue. The mist shot up in many-

Llyn Cadws 115

tinted columns, or passed in heavy billows away to
seaward ; and as it opened out, glens, villages, lakes,
and farms showed clearly in the morning air. We sat
quietly looking at it all, and listening to the click of
the stonechat perched on a boulder near us, and the
not unmusical call of the cow-boy far down below.
Morton was the first to speak.

" I say, old fellow, I want to speak to you about
Winnie. I know you're considerably spooney upon
her. Why don't you pluck up courage and speak to
her ? we shall be away in a week, and you mayn't
have another opportunity goodness knows how long.
I'd as soon have you for a brother-in-law as any
fellow I know."

" Thank you, Jack," I said ; " but you see how she
avoids me."

" That's because you were too impetuous at first :
you frightened her ; and besides, somebody's been
regaling her with some precious stories about you ;
and between you and me. Alec, you know you ain't so
good as you might be."

" That's just it. I'm not half up to her, and I am
afraid it will be labour in vain ; but I'll try — to-day,
if I can."

" That's right ; and now let us have some breakfast."

During breakfast we " spotted " several trimmers with

1 1 6 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

the red side up — a sign that a fish was on, and one in
particular was careering across the pool in famous
style. We bathed, of course, and Morton could not
resist the temptation of taking a trimmer line in his
teeth, and swimming ashore with the fish, an exploit
which nearly cost him his life, through the line getting
twisted round his legs.

About twelve o'clock we saw four donkeys coming
up the hill, three with the girls, and the fourth con-
siderately laden with a large basket of provisions.
The girls were delighted with our camp, and Carrie must
needs go out by herself in the coracle ; and as she, like
all tyros, could only spin it around, we had to get her
back by tying a stone to my pike line, and, throwing
it across her, drag her gently back by its means.

We had grand fun hauling in the pike. True, there
were not many — twelve, I think — but then not one
was less than four pounds, and one was nearly
thirteen. Some of them fought so stoutly that we had
to paddle ashore with the line for safety's sake, in
which case the lines were given to the girls, and then
there was such screaming and laughing, as they pulled
the struggling, snapping brutes ashore. Winnie did
not seem to enjoy it so much as the others ; she was
sorry for the poor fish, and I thought looked rather
disgusted as I gave them the quietus with a big stone.

Llyjt Cadws 1 1 7

After all the trimmers had been taken up, and we
had lunched in right royal fashion, close by a bub-
bling spring. Jack proposed a stroll, and offered his
arm to his cousin Carrie, to whom he was engaged.
Eva with a sly look at me took Seymour's arm, and
Winnie placed her delicate little hand within mine. I
don't think I have told you what she was hke. Well !
I am not a good hand at describing female beauty ;
but if you imagine her to be perfection, you will be of
just the same mind as I was, and am too, for the
matter of that. I was very much in love with her,
and lovers' descriptions of their mistresses are apt to
be very tedious, I think. She was distrait, and so was
I, for I was concocting a neat little speech, which was
to begin with a classical quotation' meaning " while
we catch, we are caught," in allusion to the sport we
had lately been engaged in. By the time we had
turned I had prepared a most burning and eloquent
address, and, watching my opportunity, I detained
Winnie with some remarks about the scenery, until
the others had rounded a point of rock, and then I
commenced " Dum" — and then stuck fast — the
" capimus capimur " refused to come forth, and all
the fine things I had intended to say vanished to the
winds.

" I beg your pardon ? " she said interrogatively, and

1 1 8 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

then, seeing my embarrassment, she added mischie-
vously, " I hope you are not really dumb, though I
confess I was afraid that such was the case."

This unkind cut threw me so completely on my
beam-ends, that I forgot to remind her that she had
been as silent as I ; but I felt desperate, and turning
round and facing her I said, " Just listen to me, Miss
Morton. Winnie — the fact is — that is — I — " but I do
not intend to tell you what I did say. I know 1 came
to grief sadly with my gi'ammar, and I was devoutly
thankful that my audience could not be a very critical
one. I managed, however, to make her understand
what I meant, and then when I finished she stood for
some minutes looking very seriously at the hole she
was absently digging in the turf with the point of her
parasol. When she looked up, there was a smile on
her face, that told me all was well.

" Will you promise me three things ? " she said.

" Anything in the world," I answered.

" You must give up fishing and shooting, because
they are such cruel sports."

" I promise," and may I be forgiven if there was a
mental reservation.

" You must not flirt."

" My darling, do you think I would ? "

" And you must be very, very good."

Llyn Cadws 119

" rU do my best."

" Then — " but there was no need for any more words.

When we came to our camp, they were just begin-
ning to pack up.

" All right, Jack," I said.

" We know that," replied he, " and next time you
make a proposal on the hills, remember that sound
travels a long distance ; but we'll charitably suppose
that certain noises like that " — clapping one hand on
the other — "were multiplied by the echoes to the
extent we heard them."

" Pax ! Jack, spare us," I exclaimed, and I verily
beheve I blushed. If I didn't, Winnie did.

When we came back to the hotel, I saw the river
watcher who had taken such an interest in our
departure, loitering about in company with a police-
man, and the latter came up to me and said —

" Beg pardon, sir, are you Mr. Morton ? "

" No ; that's Mr. Morton," I replied.

" Ah, then, perhaps you are Mr. Hinton ? "

" That is my name."

" And that gentleman's name is Seymour, perhaps ? "

"It is."

" Then I am very sorry," rapidly giving each of us
a blue folded paper, "but when gentlemen like you
break the law, what are we to expect from the lower

I20 MoM7itain, Meadow, and Mere

classes ? " and with a pompous " Good evening," our
friend in blue marched off with the watcher, leaving
us three staring at each other, and the girls half ready
to cry.

"Just my luck," thought I, as I found the paper to
be a summons for unlawfully taking samlets and
aiding and abetting therein.

It took us a long time to persuade the guis and
Mrs. Morton that a fine would be the only punishment,
and that no particular disgrace was attached to our
offence. As for me, I thought a wife was worth win-
ning, even at the enormous expense of two pounds and
costs ; and she, in return for that assurance and a dozen
others, was so kind as to let me off the first of my
three promises.

( I--I )

XV.

A MORASS ADVENTURE

In the latter part of last summer I was led in com-
pany with some relatives to spend my holidays at a
little village on the Welsh coast, out of the ordinary
beat of tourists, but otherwise remarkable for nothing
but its general air of bleakness and sterility. The
place was very quiet, but the lodgings were cheap
and tolerably comfortable. These essentials being
secured, we had to put up with the scenery, which
was not very attractive. A long, low line of beach,
surmounted by a high pebble ridge, leading on the
one hand to the foot of some bold jutting cliffs,
and on the other losing itself in an estuary ; behind
this, a black and dreary-looking bog, stretching three
or four miles inland, and intersected in every direction
by wide, artificial ditches, and deep, natural fissures

122 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

connecting the inky pools. A small river flowing into
the estuary divides the bog, its course being marked
by mounds of peat, cut from the firmer ground which
forms its banks. Branching out at right angles to the
river are other lines of peat-stacks, following the course
of the larger drains, which herald the attempt to culti-
vate the dreary waste.

This was the view I beheld, as, standing one
evening on the top of the stony ridge, I faced east-
ward. The sinking sun threw my shadow far over the
bog, distinctly visible as it fell over the gilded rushes
and the crimsoning pools. I had been strolling out
with my giui, in the hope of adding some specimens
to my cabinet, and was thinking of returning home-
wards, when a long-legged heron slowly sailed high
overhead, in the direction of the river. I watched the
bird till it alighted near one of the peat-stacks, and
carefully noting the spot, I proceeded to a careful
stalk, hoping to secure an acquisition. I contrived to
get within seventy yards of the heron, and, as there
was no cover of any kind nearer, I lay down behind
the last mound I had reached, and with finger on the
trigger watched patiently, in the hope that m}'- quarry
would feed towards me. I was not disappointed ; it
gradually approached some yards nearer my hiding-
place, and either caught sight or scent of me, for it

A Morass Adventure 123

suddenly rose, but in so doing came within range.
Bang ! went both barrels. Uttering a hoarse croak,
the heron flew heavily away, keeping close to the
ground, and evidently hard hit. I sprang up and
followed, jumping the ditches, and avoiding the soft
ground as best I could. During one particularly long
jump, I lost sight of the heron for a moment ; I caught
sight of it again just in time to see it fall to the earth
as softly as a snow-flake, and lie still with wings out-
spread to their full stretch. Between the bird and me,
however, there was a crevasse wider than any I had
yet leaped, and a dozen yards on the other side lay the
object of my pursuit. The black slimy sides of the
ditch overhung the water, which lay deep and still
some six or seven feet below, and a few yards to the
right connected with a large pool, having equally high
and muddy banks. To the left was a labyrinth of
similar ditches. Some distance in front, a broader and
straighter crack in the flat expanse showed where the
river lay. The bank on which I stood was a foot or
two higher than the opposite bank. I describe the
situation thus minutely in order to make the reader
understand what afterwards happened.

Not liking to lose the prize so nearly in my grasp ,
I resolved to risk the jump. Laying down the gun,
and taking off" my coat, I made the effort, and cleared

1 24 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

the ditch, only, however, by a few inches. I secured the
heron, and smoothing its beautiful plumage, but little
injured by the shot, threw it across to the bank from
which I had just come. Then, on looking around, I
found myself in a sort of cul-de-sac. The bit of lirm
ground on which I stood was an island, and the only
way for escape was the one by which I arrived. Hav-
ing to " take off " from a lower level, it was much
harder to get back than it was to come ; but, as there
was no alternative, it had to be tried. I did not leap
quite far enough, and pitched with hands and knees
together against the edge. There was no vegetation
to catch hold of, and after hanging on the balance
for a few moments, vainly clutching at the mud, I
fell backwards with a heavy splash into the water. .
Fortunately, I am a good swimmer, and at first,
while treading water, the ludicrousness of the affair
alone struck me ; but when I began to see that it
might be difficult to get up those slimy, overhanging
banks, I must confess I felt rather frightened. It was
impossible to get out at the spot where I had fallen in.
I swam farther up the ditch, and, trying to bottom it,
felt my feet touch the soft, tenacious mud, that gave
no support, but was ten times more dangerous than
the water. The water became shallower as I struggled
on, but the muddy bottom refused to give me a stand-

A Morass Adventure 125

ing-place, and the muddy sides afforded no hold for
my hands. It at last became so shallow, that I had to
turn on my back to avoid kicking the mud as I swam ;
and when in this position I could push my arms into
it with almost as much ease as I could push them
through the water ; but to draw them out again was
far from easy. With a horrid fear of being unable to
extricate myself from the mud, and of a slow suffoca-
tion, I made a sudden dash back into the deeper
water, and tried the other ditches, only to be repulsed
in the same manner. I swam round and round the
pool, seeking for an outlet, and beginning to feel my
boots and clothes very heavy. Even now I involun-
tarily smiled at the comparison which suddenly occur-
red to me, between myself in this plight and a mouse
swimming round a bucket of water ; but the thought
that I too, hke it, might be swimming for my life soon
drove all ludicrous thoughts out of my head.

Matters now began to look very serious, when I saw
a root or branch of some long-buried tree projecting
out of the bank. I caught hold of it ; but it was not
strong enough to enable me to lift myself by it out of
the water. All that I could do was to support myself
with my hands just sufficiently to keep my head above
the surface. I took this opportunity of kicking off
my boots.

126 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

Up to this time I could scarcely realize my position ;
but now the conviction began to dawn upon me that I
might never again see the mother and sisters I had left
in the cottage a mile and a half away. I looked up
at the sky, in which the twilight was fast giving place
to the moonlight, and across which the clouds wei'e
merrily driving before the evening breeze ; and then I
looked at the black and slimy walLs which hemmed
me in, and felt as though I were about to scream wdth
terror. From my childhood I have always had a
horror of confinement of any kind. I have felt
strangely uncomfortable when I have been persuaded
into exploring a cave, or when I have been shown
through a prison. This feeling I now felt more
strongly than the fear of drowning. To die hemmed
in by those gloomy walls would be terrible.

To add to the discomfort, a hollow booming sound,
almost amounting to a roar, ran through the quivering
bog, intensified to me, no doubt, by my imprisonment
in the heart of the morass. This, though I had
never heard it before, I knew to be the note of the
bittern. During the night it was repeated several
times, and anything more dismal it would be hard to
imagine.

I had not as yet thought of shouting, but I now did
so till I was hoarse. The only answer was the eerie

A Morass Adveiiture 127

scream of the curlew. The improbability of any one
being near enough to hear me, so late, struck me, and I
desisted from the useless labour. The stillness was
intense, broken only at rare intervals by the bittern or
cui'lew. How long I clung to the branch I do not
know. Fortiinately, the water was not cold. The
clouds had cleared away, and the moon, near the full,
shone brightly. Had it been dark, my courage must
have given way, and I should most probably have
sunk. As it was, I cannot say that I quite despaked of
a rescue in some way or other. If I could only hold
out till morning, some one might, I conjectured, come
for the purpose of carrying away the turf sods, and
might see my coat and gun, which would lead to a search.
I had not much hope in the event of any search from the
village ; I had started in the direction of the cliffs, my
favourite evening haunfc, and I fancied that would be
the direction the searchers would take. As the night
wore on, oh ! so slowly, with the moon so calmly
gliding tlirough the stars above me, I fell into a kind of
stupor, and I can distinctly remember repeating scraps
of verses totally unconnected with each other. From
this state I was aroused by the loud note of some
night-bird, probably an owl, and found my arms very
stiff from holding on to the root, while my legs felt
like weights of lead suspended beneath me. While

128 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

trying to change my position, I fancied I heard the
gurgling sound of running water, and that not far off.
I listened intently, and found it was no fancy. Water
was evidently running into the pool, and I saw by the
root to which I was clinging that the water had risen
some inches.

A cheering hope sprang up within me, as it flashed
across my mind that the tide must be rising, and that
the pool must have an outlet into the river.

The thought infused new life into me, and I struck
out in the direction of the sound. Then, to my intense
joy, I saw distinctly, in the clear moonlight, that the
water was streaming in fast through several small inlets,
and pouring in quietly and steadily through one of
the ditches up which I had previously swum. I knew
that if the tide rose 'another foot or eighteen inches I
could, by treading water fast, spring up so high as to
be able to catch hold of the top of the bank, and so
swing myself up. I knew also that the water could
not possibly begin to flow into the bog-pools until it
was nearly high tide. Returning to my resting-place,
I watched anxiously, the prospect of speedy deliver-
ance banishing all weariness. The water continued to
pour in steadily and in greater volume. The dawn
was now breaking, and I had not much longer to wait.
The water had ceased flowing, and the bank in one

A Morass Adventure 1 29

place was barely five feet above the water. Taking a
long breath, I let myself sink low ; and then treading
water as strongly and quickly as possible, I threw half
my body above the surface of the pool, and caught the
top with one hand. Before the soft earth had time to
crumble beneath my weight I had obtained a firmer
grasp with the other hand, and in another moment
stood on the moss — saved, drinking in with eager
gasps the fresh air of the morning.

The white haze was rapidly clearing away, and
through it I saw five or six men hurrying towards me.
I have a confused idea of being helped to my lodgings,
and of afterwards telling my adventure to many eager
questioners.

The soaking I had had, and the exposure to the
unhealthy mists which rise from the morass in the
night, caused an illness for a time, but the etiects soon
wore off.

The heron is stuffed, and adorns my cabinet, uncon-
scious of the revenge which overtook its destroyer.*

* This ai'ticle, whicli originally appeared in "Chambers' Journal,"
must not be taken as describing an adventure of tlie author's.

130 Moimtahi, Meadow, and Mere

XVI.
BREYDON JACK

All who are led by business or pleasure to visit the
quaint old town of Great Yarmouth must be familial'
with Breydon Water. About five miles in length, and
of proportionate width, Breydon, when the tide is in,
forms a noble lake. At its head the sluggish waters of
the Yare are released from their parent marshes, and,
uniting with the purer stream of the beautiful Wave-
ney, enter Breydon on their journey seawards. When
the tide is out the rivers run through a wide channel,
on either side of which stretch miles of glistening
mudbanks, the ugly monotony of which is unrelieved
by anything but stranded wreckage or flocks of wild-
fowl. One's first thought is — how easily might all this
expanse of mud be reclaimed and rendered good pas-
ture by merely banking the river in ; but upon con-

BreydoJi yack 131

sideration it is easy to see that Breydon is a safety-
valve for the tide, which would, if it had not room to
expand after the narrow entranee at Southtown, " back
up " the river water, and flood the inland marshes.

The river-channel is marked by a double row of
massive square posts, one row being painted red and
the other black, to enable the crews of vessels driven
against them in the night to ascertain, by the simple
process of striking a light, on which side of the
channel they are.

" Breydon Jack " was one of a species of men peculiar
to waterside places. He was the proprietor of an old
and " creechy " boat ; and when not in bed, Jack (whose
real name was much more aristocratic, although he
was never known by any other than his soubriquet)
was in his boat on Breydon, or up the river seeking a
living in all kinds of ways. In the warm summer
weather he might be seen " picking " for eels between
Reedham and Cantley. Standing up in the bows of
his skiff, he would drive his " pick," or spear, deep into
the mud, and in the act of drawing it out impel his
boat a yard or two forward, ready for another stroke,
shaking off such eels as were impaled by the spear into
the boat. When tired of picking he would make his
boat fast, stem and stern, and bob for eels with a bunch
of worms strung on worstead. Or perhaps you would

132 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

find him on Surlingham Broad, or in some reed-bed on
the banks of the Waveney, armed with his gun — like
himself, a curiosity — shooting the pretty and rare
bearded tit for sale, or shooting anything else that was
marketable, and in the spring collecting birds' eggs for
the naturalists. Jack, too, kept a sharp look-out for
flotsam and jetsam — old rope, wood, iron ; all was fish
that came to his net.

He had a room in a cottage near where the Bure
debouches into Breydon. He was a widower, and with
him lived his son and daughter. The son had work
in the town, and Alice, who was about eighteen, did
odd jobs for the neighbours when her household duties
were over. She was a comely, honest girl, and a great
favourite with her father, who was himself a decent
sort of fellow.

One of Jack's occupations in the winter months
was shooting wildfowl on Breydon muds, where they
were sometimes very numerous. This resource had of
late years been of little value to him, the increase in
the number of sportsmen being so great, and the pur-
suit after the birds so keen, that they were much more
difficult of access than they formerly were.

It was a blustering Saturday afternoon in December
The west wind came sweeping down Breydon with in-
creasing force. The wherries, the crews of which were

Breydon J^ack -133

anxious to reach Yarmouth before nightfall, were run-
ning before the wind with their large single sails close
reefed and the peaks lowered half-way down the masts.
The white suif which broke over their bows and
seethed along the decks told of the force with which
they were impelled through the water. When the
sails gybed one could hear the deep, thunderlike flaps
of the brown canvas at a great distance. Inky banks
of clouds rose in the western horizon, and broke up
into detached masses, which coursed each other rapidly
across the pale, stormy blue of the heavens, the white
wings of the sea-birds gleaming against them. Alice
sat at the window watching the railway passengers
come over the bridge, and now and then looking over
the waste of waters. Her father had a job at South-
town, and she did not expect him home until dark,
which would not be for another hour. The fire was
banked up in the grate, ready to be stirred into a blaze
when her father came home ; and the kettle was sim-
mering on the hob. She had thrown a shawl over her,
to keep herself warm, and a thumb-worn copy of
Watts' Hymns lay on her lap. She was neatly though
poorly dressed, and she had a patient, hopeful expres-
sion in her face that one could not help but like. The
extreme cleanliness of everything in the room showed
her housewifely care.

134 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

-A heavy step on the stair startled her from a
reverie, and she was surprised to see her father — for
it was he — return so early.

" What's the matter, father ? " she exclaimed.

" Nothing, Liss ; let's have some tea, there's a good
girl."

Alice, or " Liss," knew her father disliked being
questioned, so she set about giving him liis tea as
nimbly as possible, a " dab " (a kind of flat fish) which
he had brought home with him giving a relish to the
humble meal. Tea over, her father took down his gun
and proceeded to clean it, rinsing it out with hot water,
and afterwards inserting the breech end of the barrel
between the bars of the grate, a proceeding which
apparently did no harm to the old shooting-iron, and
speedily dried it. After well oiling it, the barrel was
replaced in the stock, and the gun was ready.

" You are not going out shooting to-night, father ? "
said Liss.

" Ay, my wench, I am — after good game, too. I seed
five wild swans make for Breydon this afternoon, and
they'll be on the muds to-night," answered he, as he
drew on his long woollen stockings over his trousers,
and then a pair of well-greased thigh boots.

" But the water is so rough, father dear," urged Liss,
as she handed him his oilskin jacket and sou'wester.

Breydon Jack 135

" Never fear. I'll row up with the tide and sail
back. Maybe I'll not be gone more'n an hour or
two."

" Do be careful, father ; I'll sit up until you come
back. I wish you weren't going."

" Tut, tut, child ; give me a kiss, and come and see
me off, for luck."

He had a tough pull to get out of the in-coming
tide of the Bure ; but once clear of its current he
rapidly made headway against the wind, and Alice lost
sight of him in the swift coming darkness. Then she
returned, and, after washing the teacups and putting
them away, she sat over the dying fire — coals were too
dear to allow her to replenish it, as there was only her-
self to warm — alone with her thoughts. Her father
had been out on nights quite as bad as the present, but
she had never before felt the strange yet vague fear
that now beset her. She would have sought her
brother's company, but he had gone in the country for
his Sunday outing, sweethearting.

Meanwhile Breydon Jack pulled his skiff along the
edge of the channel, where the wash caused by the
opposing currents of wind and tide was less. Before
the daylight quite faded away, and the boundary of
marsh and waving reeds was lost in the mist which
arose even on that cold wintry night, he had marked

136 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

the swans down on a mudbank on the south side of the
channel and noted with satisfaction that he was the
only gunner in pursuit. Indeed, he was the only-
human being afloat on Breydon. His design was to
cross the channel when the tide had slackened suffi-
ciently to enable him to do it with safety, and to
paddle up to leeward of the swans under cover of the
darkness. By that time they would be gathered close
together on the last few yards of bank which would
remain uncovered by the tide. This, when the time
came, he succeeded in doing, and in getting within a
hundred yards of the swans, whose white bodies were
just discernible ahead. A few more strokes of the
sculls, then drawing them quietly in, he seized his gun,
while the current bore him closer to his quarry. He
was just within shot when his boat slewed round broad-
side to the waves, which were dancing about in a nasty
manner over the mud. There was no time to get an
oar out to right her, as the swans had taken the alarm,
and one of them had arisen. Standing up, the better
to cover them. Jack shouted, and as the others lifted
their wings he fired. One lay struggling on the sloppy
mud ; the others rose heavily, but flew away unhurt,
with the exception of one, which shaped its com'se
away from its companions and rose high in the air or
" towered," bearing away towards Yarmouth, and most

Breydon Jack 137

probably fatally wounded. Jack, however, could not
reap the reward of his successfid shot, for the recoil
of his gun, which he had loaded too heavily, acting
upon his insecure footing, had thrown him back-
wards, and in an instant the skiff capsized, and he
was struggling in the water, unable from his burden-
some clothing to swim, and with not a soul near to
help. He was borne past the mud, but he made no
effort to reach it, for he well knew that its treacherous
surface would afford no support to him, and also that
the tide would soon cover it deeply. His only hope
lay in clinging to his boat; but that had floated
beyond his reach and out of his sight. Thousands of
distracting thoughts coursed through his brain, the
chief of which were for his daughter Alice. The cold
water was numbing his limbs, and his sodden clothes
were dragging him down. He tried to pray, and re-
signed himself to his fate, while a pair of laughing
gulls were screaming above him ; and the moon shoot-
ing with startling suddenness over the jagged edge of
a cloud shed a fitful light over the angry waters, and,
by showing him how distant was all hope of succour,
augmented his misery.

Liss still sat alone in her room. The fire had gone
out, and she had rearranged the wood and coal so that
a cheerful blaze might easily be procured when her

138 Mountam, Meadow, and Mere

father came home. After a while, feeling restless, she
went out, and, wrapped up tightly in her shawl, walked
along the Acle Road, and thence across the railway to
the embankment which fringes Breydon. Hearing a
rustling overhead, she looked up and saw a large white
mass hurtling through the air towards her. It fell on
the marsh a score or two of yards away. Going up to it,
she found it to be a dead swan. Guessing that it was
one which had been wounded by her father, she took
it up, and not liking to carry it into Yarmouth herself,
she hid it under a stack of the coarse marsh hay. She
felt that she might now expect her father's immediate
return. The tide was hurrying seawards like a
mill-race, and he would not be more than half an hour
reaching home. She went in and lit the fire, and then
went down to the wharf to meet him. As the moon-
light shone through frequently recurring rifts in the
clouds, she tried to make out his boat on the gleaming
surface of Breydon. But in vain. An hour passed
away, and she went to the quay to see if by any chance
he had landed there. But no ; and Alice felt seriously
alarmed. She was a brave girl, and, with a conscious-
ness that there was nothing to be gained by sitting
dpwn and crying, she paced up and down the deserted
wharves, trying to hit upon some plan of action. It
was now late. The church clock had struck the

Breydon Jack 139

hour of eleven. Her father should have been back
two hours ago. She wondered if she could get a boat
and go in search of her father ; but she knew no one
to ask. A voice startled her.

" Hallo, young lady, not meditating suicide, I hope ? "
exclaimed one of two young men who were strolling
along arm in arm, staggering either from the effects of
wine or the strong wind. She drew back into the
shadow, fearful of insult, to which, poor girl ! she was
not a stranger. These two, however, passed on and
jumped on board a small yacht lying moored just out-
side a wherry. Then lights appeared in the cabin ;
and out of a desire for some sort of company in her
loneliness she drew near, and stepping on board the
wherry, she sat down on the hatches and watched the
yacht.

" Look here, old man," she heard one of the gentle-
men say to the other, " you had better finish that cigar
of yours on deck. This pigeon-hole of a place is as full
of smoke as it can be ah-eady."

" All right ; to oblige your dehcate constitution, I
will ; but there's time for you to go and sleep on shore
now if you like," and the speaker emerged from the
cabin, catching sight of Alice as he did so.

" By Jove ! here's the suicidally-minded young lady
again. What's the matter, my dear ? "

1 40 Mountain, Meadow, and Mei^e

Alice had made up her mind to seek assistance from
the yachtsmen, and she spoke —

" Oh, sir, may I speak to you for a minute ? "

" Certainly," and fishing up a lanthom, he turned
the light on her face. Seeing that she was not what
he had taken her to be, he asked her to step into the
cabin, if she had anything particular to say. She went
and told her story, beseeching his help. Her misery
touched his heart, and her youth and comeliness
aroused his gallantry.

" I don't see that we can do much for you. Miss," he
said. " If, which I trust is not the case, he has been
capsized, there is little chance of his being alive now,
unless he clings to his boat, and the tide would have
carried him out to the sea by this time. But don't be
afraid. I will do what I can for you," he added, seeing
her imploring look.

" Huke ! Huke ! " and presently Huke, a long-legged
young sailor, stumbled aft, half dressed and half asleep.
Now, Huke had seen Alice many times before, al-
though she did not know him, and he was a deep
admirer of hers, so that when he understood the posi-
tion of matters, his alacrity in setting the canvas and
getting ready for a start rather astonished his master.

""WTiy, Harrison, you are not going to take the
yacht out ? " said Brown, his friend.

Breydon Jack 141

" Yes, old chap ; why not ? the jolly boat wouldn't
live. You needn't come unless you like."

" You wooden-headed charger of windmills, do you
think I wouldn't stand by you in your maddest of
tricks, if only to see that you didn't hurt yourself?
Besides, you will want me to-night. The young
woman had better keep below, out of the way. Very
likely we shall find her father safe at the Berney
Arms " (a public-house at the top of Breydon).

All the reefs of the mainsail were taken in, and the
yacht's head was canted for a tack across the river.
She shot across, gunwale under, and came back on the
opposite tack, to find that she had not gained a yard,
the ebb tide was so strong. This performance was
twice repeated, and then Brown and Huke got out
with a rope and worked the boat up along the line
of wherries moored to the wharves, until they got
around into the mouth of the Bure, and some little way
up it. Casting off, they were carried by its cross
current well out into the open, where they caught the
wind more aslant. Slowly, very slowly, they beat
their way up the channel in silence. Huke stood
on the counter with the mainsail sheet in his hand.
Harrison stood at the helm, and Brown took charge
of the foresail sheet. The wind roared, the water
hissed under the bows, and foamed in a white wave

142 Mountam, Meadow, and Mere

astern ; the lee rail was continually under water, and
the chafing of the sheets, the rattling of the blocks,
and the whistling of the gale in the shrouds, made
conversation an impossibility. Alice left the cabin and
curled herself up at the heel of the bowsprit, heedless
of the spray which stung the face like hail as it was
driven against it, and straining her eyes to catch sight
of any object which might resemble her father's boat.
" A wild goose chase, this," muttered Harrison to
himself, as the yacht neared one of the boundary posts,
and he was in the act of putting the helm over for
another tack. A piercing shriek came from the bows,
and he saw Alice standing up and pointing to the
posts. Sure enough he saw some dark mass attached
to it. Hesitating a little in his management of the
helm, the yacht missed stays, and drifting back, two
more tacks had to be made before they reached the
post again. Bl•o^vn, pushing frenzied Alice back,
grappled it with the irons. There was poor Jack
lashed to a mooring staple in the post with his neck-
cloth and braces and the shoulder strap of his shot
pouch. It appeared that he had drifted against the
post when just on the point of sinking, and he had
sufiicient strength left to lash himself securely to it.
He was cold and apparently lifeless. While Alice and
Brown, who was fortunately a doctor, did what they

Breydon yack 143

could to revive him in the cabin, Harrison and Huke
worked the yacht up to the Berney Arms. Here they
stopped and made the yacht fast. After a great deal
of knocking and shouting, they succeeded in getting
the people up, and a fire lit in one of the rooms. Poor
Jack was taken in there, and then began the slow and
doubtful process of arousing life in the cold and
inanimate body. After a long time — and a time of
agony to Alice — Jack began to breathe and give signs
of returning consciousness. During this anxious time
Huke won favour in the eyes of the maiden by his
ready and efficient assistance.

By means of unremitting care and attention for
many hours, Breydon Jack recovered. His naturally
strong constitution, rendered hardy by his mode of life,
pulled him through, but he was never afterwards the
same man as he had been previously. Rheumatism
seized him in its clutches, and left him powerless to
resume his old occupations. He was made comfortable
for the rest of his life by his son and his son-in-law, —
for the upshot of it was that Alice married Huke. Jack
died the other day, and I learned the story from Har-
rison on board the same yacht, and on Breydon Water,
l>ut under far different circumstances. The wind was
aliaft ; the sun was shining brightly, and the wavelets
danced merrily in its beams. The topsail and balloon

144 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

jib were set, for we had come in, the winners of a race,
and were sailing home to the westward under racing
canvas. The waterman who steered the yacht in the
match was sailing her then, and we were in the cabin
discussing some lunch when the story was told.
Harrison says, that exciting as the race Avas, it was
not half so exciting as the slow and dangerous beat
up Breydon the night he rescued " Breydon Jack."

WHEKKIES ON THE YABE.

( 145 )

XVII.

WINTEE-TIME ON THE MEKES

The Meres of Salop, so pleasant to the eye in the
bright summer, are even more attractive, to my think-
ing, m the depth of winter. Black water beneath, grey
sky above, bare trees, gaunt and grim, with equally
grim shadows on the water ; dull green of sodden grass,
with brown stains of decayed vegetable matter soiling
it here and there ; over all a chill wind sweeping — such
are the meres at a first glance in the winter.

Not by any means an attractive picture, one wovild
think ; but a little careful use of the eyes will make
it most interesting. At such times the book of nature
is freely opened to the observer. No longer hidden by
the summer foliage, bird life especially is more dis-
tinctly revealed to us. Pushing along in a punt by
the wooded margin, many a discovery of some rare
bird is made ; many an action of dumb life, that leaves

L

1 46 Mountain, Meadoiv, and Me7'e

us in some doubt as to whether instinct has not a
wider meaning than we are generally disposed to give
it, is observed ; and many a lesson to oneself is learnt
in a few short hours.

Still more beautiful are the meres when a keen, hard
frost has been for days binding the land in its iron
chains ; when the upland and plain are hidden in a soft
white carpet of snow ; when the wildfowl nestle among
the rotten reeds and long dead herbage by the side of
the mere, and send forth their strange cries to the
wondering air. Then numerous tracks in the snow
tell of the passage of animals and bii'ds, whose exist-
ence one scarce suspects in the summer. The holly
bushes near the houses are crowded with blackbirds
and thrushes, eager for the crimson berries. If the
trees are leafless, yet they are not bare, for the snow
hangs in fantastic shapes from every branch and twig,
all its feathery crystals glittering in the sunlight. By
the shallow and undisturbed part of the mere you can
hear in the night the ice crystals tinkling like fairy
bells in the starlight, as they shoot across and across,
to and fro, in strange intermixture, along the surface
of the water that by the morning will be black and
hard. Hark !

" Then arose a joyous clamour from the wildfowl on the mere.
Beneath the stars, aci'oss the snow, like clear bells ringing."

Winter-time oji the Meres 147

There is a beauty in the dead of the winter that is
unlike everything else. Mornings dawn in a rose-red
flush, with interspaces of pearly green, and myi'iads of
gemlike sparkles flashing from the snowy waste
between you and the east ; long purple and violet
shadows of delicate purity lie along and beautify the
bright white snow between you and the west ; on the
moors the distant hills stand out strangely clear in the
weather gleam, when from the brow of the upland you
can see up glen after glen far away into the heart of
the hills, between the marble peaks with tinted outline
that shoot up so silently into the pale cold blue ; and
silence is over all The evenings shine with an amber
radiance ; moonlit nights are wonderfully bright ; on
starlit nights, far overhead, you hear a clanging and
calling of passing wildfowl, and see a star momentarily
blotted out by the intervention of a dark body — wild
geese, for a certainty. Verily there is beauty in the

winter, and he who can enjoy it most is he who has an
object in view which leads him with a purpose into the
country. Be it fishing or shooting, some active pursuit
is necessary to the perfect enjoyment of a winter scene.
When the frost has cut down the weeds, and the cold
north-easter " hungers into madness every plunging-
pike," make your way to the water's side ready for the
fray ; for I can promise sport to any one who can

148 Mountain, Meadoiu, and Me7'e

stand the inclement weather. That pest of the meres,
the "breaking of the water," has passed off", and the
water is clear and fresh. If there is any sort of a
breeze, a spoon is as killing as anything on these meres,
and you escape the nuisance of baiting with fingers
benumbed with cold.

Some years ago I had capital sport on EUesmere,
the day before Christmas day. It was bitterly cold,
and the snow lay deep on the gi'ound. It was in my
early days, and an additional charm was lent to the
adventure by the fact that I was playing truant-
There was, as it happened, a wedding from the house ;
and, as I have a mortal hatred to any sort of fuss, I
had arranged with a friend to drive to EUesmere and
escape it all. The dog-cart was ready waiting in a by-
way, with our rods deposited in it. As soon as the
ceremony had been performed (and it was early) I
made my escape, and off we drove exulting. We
manacled to secure some smaU roach for bait, and were
soon at work. The rods were stuck out from either
side of the stern, and one of us took charge of them
while the other rowed. Of course little skill was
required, but simply a knowledge of the localities, and
some little care in shortening lines when the water
shallowed. At the end nearest the workhouse we
caught several magnificent perch, and when the shoal

Winter-time on the Meres 1 49

ceased biting we rowed up and down by the boat-
houses, where we succeeded in taking several small
jack. Wlien a sudden tug at the rod told of a run, its
owner seized it, while his companion laid hold of the
sculls and backed water. With clear water and no
favoui', it may be supposed that very few fish were
lost.

That day we caught a " whopper." On the Otely
side of the mere my rod gave a heavy lunge that told
of a big fish ; and after a severe contest, during which
it was a wonder the crazy old boat was not upset, we
got him close alongside, and a frantic and lucky dig
with the gafi" secured him. I forget the exact weight
of the fish, but it was so large that we could not get it
into either of our creels, and we hit upon the happy
expedient of cutting it in half with our pocket knives,
using the seat of the boat as our operating table. We
cast lots for the portions, and the head and shoulders
fell to my share.

Lately, on Whitemere, two of us made a large bag
on just such another winter's day, but by far the
greater number were caught by my companion. The
first run was at my rod ; and, after I had played a large
fish until it was close to the boat, my friend made an
excited lunge at it with the landing net. The flight of
hooks caught in the meshes, a savage shake of the

1 50 Mountaiii, Meadow, and Me7'e

pike's head followed, and I lost my first fish — ^always
an unlucky omen, and peculiarly so in this instance.
My companion had nearly all the runs afterwards.
Although we changed rods and places, and fished in
exactly the same manner, and I was a constant fisher-
man while he was only an " outsider," he had all the
luck, and nearly all the fish.

I remember we had the best sport on the leeward
side of the mere, where the waves were such as to toss
our punt about in quite a lively manner, and make it
difficult work to row. The fish would touch nothing
but a large spoon, and they rushed at it frantically.

Large flocks of coots, and numbers of teal and wid-
geon, swam cautiously in the centre of the mere, at a
very safe distance fiom the boat. A great crested
grebe kept popping up in all sorts of unexpected places,
and diving again immediately ; vasts clouds of starlings
wheeled and manoeuvred in the air ; and a heron or
couple of wild ducks would rise from the sedges as we
approached. I confess I allowed my attention to be
distracted by these and kindred sights, for I am not
unselfish enough to take a keen interest in a com-
panion's sport if I have none myself

The meres in the winter are full of interest to the
naturalist as well as to the sportsman : a better hunt-
ing ground for specimens of all kinds could not be

Winter-time on the Meres 1 5 1

desired. I write from Norfolk, and it will be a long
time before I again wet a line in sight of the Wrekin ;
but of all the places I have seen for pleasant memories
and never-failing gladness, give me, in summer or
winter, the seven meres of Salop.

152 Momitain, Meadow, and Mere

XVIII.
AT "THE ANGLER'S REST''

The quaint, quiet old hostelries of Izaak Walton's time
are very few and far between nowadays. I know but
one which would have delighted the Father of Anglers.
It stands on the margin of one of England's chiefest
rivers. Down the eastern bank of the river for a
couple of miles are cliffs of red sandstone rising
abruptly from the water, and trailed and trellised all
over with vegetation — creepers and ferns, whose bright
green shines in delicious contrast to the warm hue of
the rock. At regular intervals the cliffs descend, and a
charming well-wooded valley is disclosed to the view
of him who joui'neys by the river. In one of these
valleys, within twenty yards of the river bank, stands
a large old-fashioned inn. It is low — only two stories
in height — and the roof is thatched with straw, on

At " The Anglers Rest " 153

which the moss grows, and clusters of houseleek, the
juice of which is so good for warts. The bay windows
are made of the very smallest diamond panes, and the
window-seat inside is large enough for a bed to be
made upon it if need be. The bedroom windows
have a little roof of their own projecting fi'om the
main roof. The chimneys are in all sorts of pictur-
esque and irregular clusters. On one side of the porch
a rose bush is trained up to the eaves, and on the other
side a clematis bush grows luxuriantly. The porch and
door pillars are clothed with honeysuckle, on which
the bees gather in too great numbers for timid people
to sit comfortably on the bench outside. On a bracket
overhead swings the sign, on which is written " The
Angler's Rest." There is no garden in front of the
house, but, except a narrow pathway to and around the
house, the green turf bank slopes away to the water,
where there is a sort of staithe at which boats can be
moored.

The river is wide here, but is beautifully clear, and
runs by over its pebbly bed with a swift ciu-rent. You
would have to go down it a score of miles ere you
found it fouled by passing through a town. The pretty
little villages it so far passes by leave it vmsullied.

Inside the house is as charming as the outside.
Everything is spotlessly clean. The bedrooms have

154 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

an indescribably fresh and snug look about them.
Although the chief articles of food are eggs and bacon,
yet the eggs are new-laid, and the bacon is home-fed
and home-cured.

" The Angler's Rest " has only lost one charm of late
years. Formerly the landlord used to brew his own
ale, and grand old ale it was — brewed in October and
not allowed to be drunk for at least six months. Now
the former owner has sold the " Rest " to a brewer, and
honest old Parker has to buy all his ale and liquors of
his new landlord. The consequence is, you do not
get anything fit to drink in the house. Brewers
nowadays brew good ale enough for those who can pay
for it, but the country " publics " are supplied with the
greatest and most undrinkable rubbish out. I have
invariably found this to be the case in all parts of the
country. Pure ale you cannot get out of the towns.
Whether the fault lies with the brewers in general or
with the publicans I am unable to say. Parker would
not adulterate his beer, so in his case the fault lay
with the brewer. I should like to see a law passed
prohibiting a brewer to be the o^vner of a public-house,
or at least to prevent the introduction into the tenants'
leases of a clause compelling them to buy their liquors
of the landlords. This may be thought a digression ;
but I have so often had my meals in the country

At ''The A ngiei's Rest " 155

spoiled by the filthy stuffs I have been obliged to
drink, that I must ventilate my grievance.

The "Rest" is two miles away from any village
proper, and it is a matter of wonder how any one came
to think of establishing an inn there, or how, being-
established, it supported itself until it became known.
Now, however, anglers from all parts of the kingdom
come and stay there for days at a time. Artists come
to paint and sketch, and literary men sometimes, to
write. Very occasionally young men go there to read,
which they do furiously for two or tln-ee days, then
less and less attentively, until all pretence of studying
is cast aside, and they very sensibly take to enjoying
themselves while they may. In the summer panting
canoeists stop for a refresher, and ask how far it is on
to the next stage, receiving the answer as a rule with
little pleasure, for it is wonderful how distance seems
to multiply itself on the water. You are told a place
is ten miles off. After paddling or rowing what you
imagine to be about six miles, you inquire again, and
are told your destination is about seven miles still.
Sometimes, too, an eight-oar or a four-oar comes up
the stream with long mechanical strokes of the oars,
and after its crew have consumed a large quantity of
beer and tobacco, starts off again. The only other
visitors are the bargees, who navigate barges laden

156 Mountain, Meadow, and Mei^e

with fragrant hay or corn up the stream and return
with ore from the iron country.

In the winter " The Angler's Kest " is of course very
quiet and dull. They have no one there then but the
bargees, who are not the best company in the world ;
though, rough as these fellows are, if you don't meddle
with them, they won't meddle with you. I have
boated a great many miles over different rivers and
canals of England, and I have never met with any
discourtesy.

Considering that the river is not preserved, there is
fine sport to be had here. In every bend of the stream
there is a fine chub hole. In the still deep below the
house there is many a fine pike. On the fords trout
(and large ones), grayling, dace, roach, gudgeon, and
bleak are in pleiity. Here and there perch are nume-
rous. But my favourite spot was a tributary of the
river, which ran into it about half a mile above the
house. It was not large, but the very beau-ideal of a
trout stream. It ran down a narrow valley where the
oak woods grew thickly. It danced and bubbled over
slabs of grey and brown rocks, it splashed and eddied
around the roots of giant trees, it laved clusters of fern
and mossy ledges ; it flowed quietly through shady
glades where the grass was long and soft and green,
and it spread out into clear and open pools, which

At " The Anglers Rest " 157

reflected the beauty around. From visiting it often I
had got to know every nook and cranny of it. There
was the big stone behind which there was always a
trout ; there was the soft earthy bank where the sand-
martins burrowed, and flew in and out, in close prox-
imity to your head as you waded up the stream. There
was the unsavoury smelling hole — probably an old
sand-martin's hole made larger — where the same pair of
kingfishers nested year after year. Have you ever
seen their eggs ? They are so round and smooth and
white, and the shells are so thin, that the yolk imparts
to them a delicate pink while they are fresh laid.
There too is the old grey bridge, in a crevice under
which a pair of dippers nestle year after year, and
where one or two broods of water wagtails are hatched.
If you were to look very closely you might also find
the abode of that beautiful bird, the redstart, or " fire-
brand tail," as the country boys call him, from his red
tail. Many are the creelfuls of trout I have caught in
that stream, and many the pleasant days I have passed
by its banks. If the trout were not on the feed, why,
one could be happy enough wandering aimlessly up
and down, noting this bird or that flower, laying up a
store of innocent knowledge, casting off insensibly
one's weight of care, and asking for nothing more full
of content than the present hour.

158 Motmtam, Meadoiu, and Mere

Then how pleasant to come back to " The Angler's
Rest," and lounge the time away until bedtime in
utter idleness.

Old Parker, the landlord, merits a few words. It is
unnecessary to say he was an angler. He was one,
however, of the old-fashioned school. He believed in
oils and unguents wherewith to anoint the bait or the
hook. The oil from a heron's legs was, he had heard
and believed, an irresistible attraction to the finny
tribe. If he could have procured it, he would have
been happy; but he never could. Gum ivy he had
plenty of, and he was wont to attribute the success —
which was in reality owing to his patience and know-
ledge of where the fish lay — to his use of the gum to
flavour his bait. If he used worms, they had been
scoured in moss with a piece of gum ivy in. If paste,
it was made with a little boiling water just poured
over the gum. Artificial flies he never used, but gum
ivy was kept with all his lines and hooks. It was a
wonder where he procured it all from. Wherever there
was any ivy plant of tolerable thickness, you might
find an incision cut by him for the gum to accumulate.
It was useless to attempt to con^ance him of the ab-
surdity of his faith in such things. Indeed, it was the
way to quarrel with him, if you wished. He was great
as a chub fisher, and many a day Avould he pass seated

At " The Anglers Rest " 1 59

under the shade of the willows which overhung some
deep, quiet hole, where the big chub lay. " Once a
chub hole, always a chub hole," was his saying, and he
stuck persistently to one or two favourite places. In
dress he was the exact model of those cheap illustra-
tions one sees of old Izaak. A long snuff-coloured coat
with huge lappets and pockets, a low, coloured waist-
coat and nondescript sort of trousers, a pair of spec-
tacles, and a large brimmed hat, formed his costume.
He was a good-natured old fellow, always ready to
spin you a yarn about enormous pike or chub, and
adventures piscatory or otherwise. His wife was a
nice motherly sort of body, and they had their grand-
daughter living with them, a bright-faced, cheerful
lassie of eighteen, who waited on the parlour people.

One hot August day a four-oared boat might have
been seen coming up the river at a leisurely pace, until
within sight of the " Rest," when the coxswain cried,
" Now, put it on for a finish. Pick it up the bow side.
Time, Two. You're in too soon. One more, and an-
other, and another, now another. A good one for the
last. Easy, all. Take care of your oars, stroke side.
Hallo, Parker ! " and Parker came down to help out
the oarsmen. Bow stepped out first, a light slim-built
fellow, just suited for the bow of a racing boat. No. 2
followed. He was like all other young men, and calls

1 60 Mountain, Meadoio, and Mere

for no particular remark. No. 3 came next, a heavy,
lumbering fellow, but who always managed to pull his
weight. Stroke unfolded himself rather than rose.
He was such a length — six feet two in his shoes — and
capable of setting a terrible stroke in a race. The cox-
swain, as in duty bound, stepped out last. He was a
dapper little fellow, all laughter and good humour,
and, if anything, rather too fond of a practical joke.
He had brought his pencils with him, and meant to
spend a few days in sketching. The others had
brought their fishing-rods, and intended to go in
heavily for the slaughter of the finny tribe.

"You won't touch a fin, gentlemen," said Parker,
" while this broiling weather lasts."

They did get a little sport, however, in spite of the
unfavourable state of the weather and the water,
which latter was as clear as glass. Every pebble at
the bottom was distinctly visible, and it was impos-
sible to get within yards of the river's side without the
fish catching sight of you, and darting away. Still, by
fishing early and late, the crew managed to pick up a
few fish here and there, for they were by no means
deficient in angling skill.

One afternoon they were sitting under the trees in
the orchard, chatting and smoking — that is, all except
No. 2, who was in love, and therefore spent aU his

At " The Anglers Rest " 1 6 1

spare time either in writing letters to his beloved or
in composing poetry in her praise. Just then he was
sitting a little apart from the others, with his writing-
case on his knees, apparently deep in the agonies of
composition. The others lay in various attitudes —
more easy than elegant — on tlie grass, lazily inter-
changing sentences now and then, but paying more
attention to colouring meerschaums than anything else.

Suddenly up jumped No. 2 with a yeU of astonish-
ing power, upsetting his writing-case, and scattering
its contents about in lamentable confusion.

" What the deuce is the row ? " said Three, as Two
started off for the house at a very quick trot.

" He has been sitting on an ants' nest," shouted
Coxswain ; " look at the Kttle beggars crawling about.
I would sooner sit on a beehive than on an ants' nest.
They bite most awfully. I shall go in and help him to
get rid of the little pests."

Presently he returned with the information that
Two had been bitten in three or four places, and
was engaged in rubbing them as well as he could
with oil.

Coxswain, ever in mischief, began poking about
among the papers Two had left behind him.

" Hooray ! he was writing some poetry. Just listen,
boys," and he read out with great gusto —

1 62 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

"To

" Glorious eyes that, flashing love, are on me softly beaming ;
Mine seek hers with ardent gaze, and see the lovely gleaming.
Witching time, when hand meets hand "

Stroke, too lazy to get up, had been rolling himself
along the grass towards the coxswain. When he got
within reach, his long arm descended upon him, and
rescuing the paper, he said, "Coxswain, you've no
business with another fellow's private papers. Re-
member, you are not a woman, and therefore should
not have a woman's curiosity. As captain of the boat,
I shall fine you half-a-crown if you don't shut up."

" All right, old man ; but it's so awfully dull here.
We want some amusement. Here comes the Laureate,
with a slower step than when he left us."

" I say," called out No. 3, " I have got an idea."

" No ? "

" You don't say so ? "

" Does it hurt ? "

" Where's my note-book ? "

" And it's not a bad one," continued Three, unruffled
by their chaff

"It ought not to be, for it's the first you've had
since we came here. What is it ? "

"Why, I propose that to-morrow, being our last
day here, we have an angling match, the winner to
have his bill paid for him by the others."

At " The Anglers Rest " .163

" Hear ! hear ! "

After some little discussion, the resolution was put
to the meeting and was carried. It was arranged that
they were all to start off in the morning and go where
they liked. They were to return by five, and the one
who had the greatest weight of fish was to be adjudged
the winner. Nothinof but fair anoiinff was to be
allowed, and any one using unfair means to fill his
basket was to lose his chance. Coxswain kept out of
the match, as he was a non-fishing man, and he and
Parker were to be the judges.

The next day was, if possible, hotter than ever, and
it seemed almost impossible to catch any fish at all.
The betting was two to one on Three, as he was con-
sidered the most patient, and they had an idea that
he, being the first to propose the match, had a plan
whereby he hoped to come in the winner. The sequel
will show that he had.

We will follow Bow first. He was a trout fisher
and nothing else, so he naturally made for the tribu-
tary stream I before mentioned, and set to work to fish
it carefully from its confluence with the larger river
upwards. He tried flies, minnows, and worms. He
fished as carefully and skilfully as he could, but not a
fin could he touch. The morning had gone by, and
his basket was still as empty as when he began;

1 64 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

indeed, more empty, for he had disposed of his lunch.
As he ascended the stream, the quantity of water
became less and the pools shallower. He saw three or
four trout dart away and hide under a large flat stone,
the top of which was above the water. Immediately
an idea occurred to him. He strove in vain to banish
it. He saw how he could fill his basket "vvith trout,
and in all probability win the prize. But was it fair ?
Ought he as a sportsman to do such a thing ? Suppose
the other fellows found it out. Pooh ! it was only a
lark, and it was quite fair to try and overreach them a
little. If they asked him how he had caught his fish,
why, he would tell them. If they didn't, aU the better
for him. One shoe was pulled off — then he hesitated.
The other came off. Should he or should he not ? Off
came his stockings, and tucking up his trousers above
his knees, he entered the water. The temptation had
been too much for him. Kneeling on the stone, with
his arms bare to the shoulders, he felt under it and
commenced the process of " tickling " the trout. When
he felt the tail of a fish he lightly ran his fingers
up to its gills, where he " grabbed " it hard and fast,
and drew it out. The lowness of the water was in his
favour ; and, trying all the best holes up the stream,
he had in a couple of hours secured fifteen fine trout.
Then a feeling of compunction seized him, and he

At " The Anglers Rest " 165

stayed his hand, feeling pretty secure of being the
winner of the match.

He retraced his steps to where he had left his rod.
What was his consternation to find it gone ! He
searched up and down and on all sides, but he could
not see any trace of it. Beyond a doubt some one had
stolen it — his new fly rod. Heartily vexed at the
occurrence, he made his way to the inn, and, after
changing his clothes, took up a paper, and lit his
pipe, to while away the time until the others came
home.

Two, after mature consideration and a consultation
with Parker, resolved on " dibbing " for chub as the most
likely way of filling his basket. Chub, be it kno^vn to
the uninitiated, are fond, on hot days, of basking on
the top of the water under the shade of the willows or
other trees. At such times they may be caught by
presenting a natural insect, a beetle, cockchafer, bee,
or large fly, to their notice. The hook is run tln-ough
the back of the insect, and the latter is " dibbed " or
dabbled on the top of the water just before their noses,
the operator taking care to keep well out of sight.
Often a gi'eat number may be taken in this maimer.
Two, however, only succeeded in landing five, all of
them good sized ones, though, and he felt pretty sure
of winning, until he saw, at the end of a long reach

1 66 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

of still, deep water below him, the stalwart figure of
Three engaged in a lengthy contest with some large
fish, presumably a pike, wliich he at last succeeded in
landing. " Confound him ! " said Two to himself ;
" who would have thought pike would take a bait this
weather ? " That one fish would outweigh all mine.
By the way, nothing was said about not adding to the
weight of one's fish. Mine were cauglit faii\ Why
shouldn't I make them weigh a little more ? Here
goes."

He collected a quantity of small stones and gravel,
and with the aid of a small stick he crammed the
stomachs of the defunct chub with them as full as he
dared.

" There, that will add materially to their Aveight.
It's time to be going now. Wliat a lovely day it is,
and how blue both sky and water are ! All ! Arabella,
how I wish you were here with me to enjoy tliis beau-
tiful scene. I wonder if you are thinking of me —
sweetest, dearest, BEST ! "

And with an approving conscience Two marched
along.

Three knew where a big pike lay. He judged its
weight to be about twelve pounds. It had run at his
bait several times, but he had not succeeded in landing-
it. This day, however, he was determined upon

At " The Anglers Rest " 167

securing it, by fair means if possible, by foul means if
fair were not sufficient. He spun the reach where the
pike lay. He gave it a rest, and trolled up and down.
He caught a g^idgeon and tried live-baiting. Then he
tried spoon bait ; but all was of no use. Then he gave
himself a rest for an hour, and afterwards walked
quietly up one bank, waded across at a ford, and walked
down the other bank of the river. There the pike was*
in his old haunt, and over which Three had cast his
bait several times that day. The fish lay suspended
midway in the water, and apparently asleep. Three
drew from his pocket a piece of long, thin, pliable wire,
with a noose already made at the end of it, and
artistically blackened in the fire to make it less visible.
This he attached to the end of his line, and reeled up
until the end of the wire entered the top ring of the
rod, and so held the noose out with some degree of
stiffness. Crafty Three, kneeling down, inserted the
rod in the water, and very quietly and cautiously
guided the noose over the head of the pike. A sudden
jerk fixed the wire tight around his gills, and after a
little cautious play the pike was basketed.

Of Stroke's doings there is little to be said. He
managed somehow to catch a great long eel, and after
this, finding his efforts unavailing, he bathed and then
fell asleep on the grass, in which happy state he con-

1 68 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

tinued until he was awakened by a cow trying to
munch his hair. He then strolled quietly homewards.

Coxswain took his sketch-book up to the high-
wooded ground behind the house. From thence he had
a good view of the trout stream. Struck by the
eccentric movements of Bow, he stole downwards, and
came upon that individual lying flat on his stomach
on a ledge of rock, with his arms in the water, and too
busily engaged in groping to see his coxswain. The
latter crept away unperceived, carrying Bow's rod
away with him, justly observing that its owner did
not appear to want it.

The time for ascertaining the winner had come.
Parker stood ready with a pair of scales. Coxswain
sat in a big armchair, in his most important attitude.

" Now, Bow, produce your fish."

Everybody admired the speckled beauties, and en-
vied their possessor. They weighed six pounds. Bow
looked modestly conscious of his merits as an angler.

" By the way. Bow, how did you catch those fish,
considering I have your rod ? " said Cox.

" You beggar ! Have you got my rod ? I am so
glad. I wouldn't have lost it for worlds. Where did
you find it ? "

" Where did you get your fish ? "

" Oh, bother the fish ! I gi'oped for them."

At " The Anglers Rest " 1 69

Strange to say, this confession did not meet with
the indignation it should have received. Stroke only-
looked reproachfully at his Bow, and thought of his
big eel.

"Two, turn out your bag. Eight pounds — I
shouldn't have thought it. Why, how hard they feel-
Well ! if he hasn't stuffed them full of stones. He and
Bow have forfeited their chance. They may well re-
tire into the background. Three, what have you
caught ? Why, look ! look at the mark on his
shoulders. You have snared him. Shame upon you ! "

Coxswain's expostulations were drowned in an uni-
versal roar of laughter, in the midst of which long
Stroke pulled out his long eel, which he had caught
fairly, and he was pronounced the winner.

A merry evening closed the day. After a famous
dinner, the pipes and " materials " were ordered in, and
the fun by-and-by grew fast and furious.

Two volunteered a song, which he said was of his
own composing. Here it is :

"WHERE THE TROUT LIE."

" Where wave the alder branches,
Shadowing o'er the stream,
And round the drooping leaflets
Changing circles gleam,
There lie the trout

So cannily.

1 70 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

" O'er fords of golden gravel,
Eound the mossy stones,
Where thousand wavelets warble
Passing sweet in tones,
There play the trout

So merrily.

" Where moan the gurgling deeps,
Full of seme great mystery
(The big trout only know
Half of their dark history),
There lurk the trout

So solemnly."

" And in all those places, boys, we follow him and
take him. ' Oh, the jolly angler's life ! It is the best
of any/ as somebody says."

Siaging once started, one after another took it up,
and while the room was ringing to the chorus of " The
British Lion," "Beware how you tread on his tail,"
the door opened, and Parker's granddaughter appeared.

" Please shall you w^ant anything more to-night ? "

" What, is it late ? " said Stroke. " Come, Jenny,
you must sing to us, and then we will go to bed like
good boys. We won't go without."

Jenny demurred very much, but was at last pre-
vailed upon to sing to us. She was, in fact, too timid
to refuse pointblank. Silence being obtained, she
began in a low sweet voice, while the fragrant evening-
air came in at the open window, and we coidd only

At " The Anglers Rest " 171

just see her in her white dress as she stood there in
the gloaming —

" Abide with me ; fast falls the eventide ;
The darkness deepens ; Lord, with me abide ;
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, 0 abide with me."

By the time she had finished the whole crew was
quieted and softened.

" You are a good girl, Jemiy," said Stroke. " I am
glad you sang that. It suits the time better than the
noisy songs we have been singing. Good night."

So to bed they went, and slept the sleep of the just,
notwithstanding the attempts at cheating which had
been made by some of the crew. As a rule, conscience
is very lenient with healthy young men.

When they met the next morning at an early break-
fast, each acknowledged to the others that he felt
somewhat sad that the short holiday was over, and
that the approaching break-up of the party was an
event greatly to be deplored.

StiU it was inevitable. Life could not be all play,
and business had claims upon them which could not
be gainsaid. A hearty meal did something towards
relieving their depressed spirits. It may be a very
unsentimental thing to say, but our mental troubles
are very greatly assuaged by the creature comforts.

172

Moiintai7i, Meadow, and Mere

The four-oar was launched, the looms of the oars
greased, the men settled themselves firmly in their
seats, the coxswain took the tiller ropes in hand.
" Ready — forward — row ! " and the boat shot away
from the " Rest " and was lost to sight around a bend
in the stream.

"The Angler's Rest" has seen many pleasant gather-
ings, but few better friends than Bow, Two, Three,
Stroke, and Cox. Yet short as the time comparatively
is since the angling match, these fiiends are widely
separated, and hear but little of each other. Do you
not think they retain the memory of their meeting —
the last one — at " The Ansrler's Rest " ?

A RISE AT LAST.

( 173 )

XIX.
LONG-LINE FISHING OFF CROMER

Cromer — where the sun rises from, and sets in, the
sea — is one of the most delightful of seaside places. It
is an oasis of beauty on the uninteresting coast-line of
the Eastern Counties. Its comparative inaccessibility
keeps it select. The two four-horse coaches which ply
daily between Norwich and Cromer do not convey the
shoals of noisy excursionists which overfow Yarmouth
and Lowestoft. In the months of August and Septem-
ber Cromer is full of the better class of seaside visitors.
In those months it is as nearly perfect as a watering-
place may be. Not only is there the broad expanse of
sea, with the numerous vessels dotting its surface — long,
low, black steamers and large ships in the distance,
coasting schooners and brigs inshore, and slow moving
trawlers and saucy little crab-boats with their brown

1 74 Motmtain, Meadow, and Mere

sails — but on shore are delicious walks alonor fragrant
lanes, over breezy knolls, between ferny glades of wood,
the sheeny undergrowth of fern having for close com-
pany the bright bog heather in masses of pink and
purple, shaded by the thick branching oaks, and lit up
here and there by brilliant shafts of sunlight. The sight
of heather in a wood is sufficiently uncommon to be
noticeable, even if it were not for the rich feast of
colour it affords to the eye. The first view of Cromer
fi'om the Norwich road is one not easily to be forgot-
ten. As you gain the top of the hill above the little
town, there bursts upon the eye the sea, the little
cluster of houses which form Cromer town hanging, as
it seems, right above it ; the stately church tower ; the
woods in the hollows; the knolls and hills covered with
heath and fern and yellow gorse ; the white lighthouse
tower, and the meadows where the sheep and cows are
tethered by ropes pegged to the gTOund. The view
appears so suddenly that one is surprised as well as
delighted.

Cromer has had a hard fight of it as:ainst the sea,
which is ever making encroachments. The old church
stands some distance out at sea, and the waves wash
and fishes feed where parsons preached and sinners
listened years ago. The old lighthouse disappeared
some time since with a fall of the cliff. The set of the

Long-line Fishing off Cromer 175

tides being north and south, or nearly so, the soft
material of the cliff is easily worn and carried away.
When a great fall of cliffs occurs, geological specimens
are often found in abundance. Remains of sie-antic
creatures that existed before the flood turn up again in
these later days, to teach us something of the wonder-
ful past. If there were men in those prehistoric times,
they must have had an extremely uncomfortable time
of it, with creatures of such devouring capacity as then
existed in numbers around them. Perhaps the reason
that we find no fossil skeletons of man of so ancient a
date, is that they were "chawed up" by the mam-
moths, &c., and never allowed to die a natural death.
It is a wonder the flint implements were not swallowed
and digested too, instead of being allowed to remain
on or in the earth, and set otherwise rational men by
the ears.

Wooden breakwaters project out at intervals to
break the force of the current, and the part of the cliff
upon the very verge of which the village stands is
faced with flint masonry — armour-plated, in fact,
with stone armour. Access to the beach and jetty is
gained by means of zigzag paths and steps of uncom-
fortable steepness. The jetty is not a very imposing
structiire, but it answers all the purposes for which it
is intended. As Cromer has no quay, the coal vessels

176 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

take the ground at high tide, and are unloaded as
rapidly as possible, several horses, however, being re-
quired to drag a cart-load up the soft beach.

Pleasant as Cromer is in the summer, it is not at all
a bad place in the winter, when the days are fine
enough to go out sea-fishing. I had a few days there
one November, and one morning I enjoyed capital
sport amongst the codlings.

The wind blew fresh the night before, and it was
doubtful whether the boats would set out in the morn-
ing. I had arranged to go out with two of the fisher-
men, provided they started early enough to enable me
to leave Cromer by midday. The morning broke with
little wind and a slight smiur of rain, but the distant
horizon looked soft and mellow, and there was nothing
of the harshness which precedes heavy rain. We had
two sets of lines for our boat. Each set was thirteen
hundred yards in length, so that when the two lines
were out they extended about a mile and a half. At
short intervals were hooks attached to lengths of
snooding. These are baited over night with, in the
present instance, and indeed generally, mussels. Bait-
ing them is not by any means a pleasant or enviable
job, especially when it has to be done, as is too often
the case, in the kitchen, where all the family are col-
lected. The mussels, by the way, are caught in Lynn

Long-line Fishing off Cromer 177

deeps, and then taken to Cley and Blakeney harbour,
where they are deposited in troughs to fatten and
grow. From thence they are supplied to the fishermen
on the coast. The lines being baited and coiled, so as to
be paid out freely, are conveyed to the boats, and then
you may notice a curious custom. They, and also the
nets, are put in at the right-hand side of the boat, then
the nets are also cast from the right-hand side of the
boat, or as nearly so as practicable. A doggrel form of
prayer is also said by the fishermen before the latter
are cast. This faint echo of Galilee has become a
superstitious observance, kept as much by the gTaceless
blackguard as the honest man who may see a meaning
in it.

The Cromer and Sherringham crab-boats are of a
class which is unlike any other boat on the British
coast. They are, for aU the world, like the half of a
walnut shell in shape. Stem and stem are pointed
alike, and the shell form is further contributed to by
the absence of rowlocks, instead of which are holes
pierced in the top straikes. The oars are thrust
through these, and when not in use the holes are
stopped by corks. The oars are weighted with lead on
the looms, in order to give greater leverage power. To
launch a boat, an oar is passed through two opposite
rowlock holes, and two men half lift half drag it down

N

178 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

to the water. The average length of the boat over all
is about fifteen feet. They mount a large lug sail,
which has to be dipped every tack, but with which
they can sail very close to the wind, and at a spanking
pace. A friend of mine in one of these little boats,
rigged cutter fashion, has sailed around England. For
sea work I cannot imagine any boat better fitted for
the purpose of saihng and rowing, and also standing
rough weather.

I went to bed betimes (people go to bed early in
Cromer), and, as I suppose my head was full of the
subject, I must needs dream about it. In my di-eam I
foregathered with an ancient fisherman, who gave me
the most copious and marvellous information upon
marine matters, of which I took full notes, congratulat-
ing myself upon meeting with him. At last, however, he
told me that the average length of a Cromer crab-boat
was forty-three feet. This was too much, and by way
of proving him wrong I used myself in default of a six-
foot measure, and, turning myself over as a draper does
his yard, and with the utmost gravity, measured a
boat near us as two lengths and two-thirds of a length
(equal to sixteen feet), and triumphed.

To return to our codlings. " Wliich way, skipper ? "
said one of the men to me. "To the southward,"
answered I, at a guess, seeing several boats making off

Long-line Fishmg off Cromer 1 79

in that direction. "No, no, sir, that won't do," he
replied. We pulled a mile and a half straight out
to the eastward, and dropped the anchor, with the buoy-
rope and the en<l of the line attached, in seven fathoms
of water, and then began the tedious work of paying
out the line.

" There's a foul," I cried, seeing that a snooding was
entangled round the line. " Yes, sir ; but we dare not
pull it in again, or it would raise the whole of the line
that is already out, and foul the other snoodings." We
paid half the line out, and then, making a turn, laid
the rest in the opposite direction. The buoy and
anchor were then let go. The other line was laid in a
similar manner, and then we rowed about for an hour,
to give the fish time to bite. Another boat not far off
was hauling in her line. We kept her company for
awhile, and watched the glittering fish being swung
out of the water in rapid succession.

" Do you never get in a mess with other fellow's
lines ? " I asked.

" Oh yes ; one boat often lays her lines over others,
and then there's a lot of trouble before they can be got
free."

While tossing aimlessly about, the two men began to
relate foi- my edification unpleasant anecdotes of sea-
sickness, and at length I asked,

i8o Mountain, Meadow, aiid Mere

" When are we going to take up the lines ? "

" Just now, sir ; we'll pull that way."

The buoy was shipped and the anchor hauled in,
and then began the fun. First came a small codling,
then a dab, then another codling, then nothing for
several fathoms, save " five-fingei-s " and starfish, the
latter looking most excruciatingly uncomfortable with
the hooks in their stomachs and their thirteen fingers
curled up around them ; then a ling, and then a suc-
cession of fine codlings. If they were slightly hooked,
or were very large, the " pick " or gaff was used.
They were shaken ofi" the hook very unceremoniously,
and the line was carefully coiled round as it was
hauled in. Soon the bottom of the boat was covered
with fish of all sizes. Sometimes a heavy strain on
the line would tell of a big fish, and the excitement
increased as fathom after fathom was hauled in, and
two or three intermediate codlings were scarcely
heeded until the big one was gaffed. It took a long-
time before both lines were on board and it was " up
and away," and by that time I was rather tired of it.
It was not such good fun as hand-line fishing. There
was too much of the wholesale and mechanical about
it. Of course, it is more business than sport.

Our take was about ten score of aU sizes, and this is
about an average one. If such a take could only be

Long-lme Fishmg off Crmner 1 8 1

had in the summer, the men would clear a pot of
money by it, but just at this season the market is
glutted, and the profits less.

In fine weather, this does not seem such a bad way
of getting a hving ; but the rough has to be taken with
the smooth, and very rough and hard it is at times.

" WeU, you are safe back," quoth my friend, as I
jumped ashore.

" Yes, and hungry enough to eat you up." So,
having first bought a 9 lb. codling for a shilling, we
made om- way up the " gangway " to our lodgings.

I have had variable sport with hand-lines at Cromer,
I recollect one occasion, when I spent part of a sum-
mer holiday there, going out with two friends to fish
with hand-lines for anything that might turn up.
' Six)i*t was rather slack, so we turned our attention
to practical joking C — , being rather afraid of sea-
sickness, had brought a bottle of rwm and milk with
him. It was a most extraordinary compound to take
to sea, and would, one would imagine, be sufficient to
upset any stomach. Probably C — , being a lawyer,
had a sterner stomach than other men. He was the
most patient angler of the three, and scarcely took his
eyes off the line which he held in his hand. Thus he
gave an excellent opportunity to abstract the bottle
from his pocket and taste the contents. T — did so,

1 82 Mountain, Meadow, and Mei^e

and passed it to me, and I had a sip. So had the
boatmen. They seemed to like it, so we let them very
nearly finish it, of course while C — was intently look-
ing at the water. I then filled up the bottle with salt
water, and replaced it. Presently C — took it out for
a pull, amid our laughter. He said nothing, and
l^efore long his turn came. The tide slackened, and
the lines were continually fouling each other. C — , on
hauling his up, found that he had hauled T — 's hooks
up with it, of which T — was quite unaware. C —
immediately slipped off the large oilcloth apron he
was wearing to keep oti' the water, and hooked it on
to T — 's line, letting it slip into the water again.

" I've got such a whopper on ! " by-and-by ex-
claimed T — . " See how he tug-s. Bear a hand here,
somebody."

The apron kept sheering to right and to left in the
water, and T — got proportionably excited.

" Now, where's the gaff" ? — the line will break. It's
a skate, I saw him. Here he is. Steady. Law ! ! ! "

Amid our uproarious laughter T — sat looking,
and probably feehng, more sold than he had ever done
before.

If there is nothing else to do, the visitor can go out
with the men to haul in the crab and lobster pots. It
is a very pretty sight to see the crab-boats start out

Long-li7ie Fishing off Crmner

together to the fishing grounds. You follow the large
lug sails of the fleet with your eye, and all at once
they suddenly disappear from view. This is caused
by their lowering their sails when they anive at the
spot where the crab-pots are. You may then, on
looking closely, just distinguish them as dark specks
on the sea. They as suddenly reappear to the eye as
the sails are hoisted, and they come sailing merrily
home, the white foam flying from their bows.

I do not know whether any fishing is to be had
from the pier, as at Yarmouth, or from the beach, as
at Lowestoft, where the custom is to throw out fines
armed with several hooks, and pegged into the sand
at one end, while the other is leaded. They are
thrown out by means of a stick with a notch in it.
Dabs, small codlings, and bass are caught by them. I
should say that both these methods might be tried with
success at Cromer.

Cromer has no gas, and consequently it is a fittle
difficult to find one's way about after dark. I recollect
walking up and down the short sti-eet in which the
Post-office is situate four or five times before I suc-
ceeded in finding the letter-box, and then I discovered
it by feeling for it.

I have mentioned that the sun both rises from and
sets in the sea, thus affording two beautifiil sights each

184 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

day to the lover of nature. People take a very great
deal of trouble to get to mountain tops in the dark to
see the sun rise. They can see it under equally beau-
tiful, and far more comfortable, circumstances at
Cromer. Not long ago I was up at half-past thi-ee in
the morning, and went down to the fii'st breakwater
for a bathe. Early as I was, there was a gentleman
there before me. He said he had got up at that time
to see the sun rise for three mornings, and " it had not
risen satisfactorily yet,"

" What do you mean ? " said I.

" Wliy, it rises out of a bank of clouds, and not direct
from the water."

He expressed his intention to be up as early the
next morning. I hope the sun rose satisfactorily then.

Cromer will be spoiled when the rail goes there.

-'-'-^^jr. sriti^C.\ """"

j;^-<^

CROMEK CKAB.BOAT.

( i85 )

LIFE IN DEATH.

XX.

LIFE IN DEATH

Birds often choose strange nesting-places. Instances
are not very rare of tomtits building in letter-boxes,
pumps, and such-like erections which are in constant
use. Only the other day I read that a robin's nest
was found in the pocket of a labourer's coat which had
been hanging up in an outbuilding for some time. To
the credit of the owner of the coat, the birds were

1 86 Mountam, Meadow, and Mere

allowed to hatch their eggs and bring up their young.
Thrushes often build their large and conspicuous nests
in what would appear to be anything but safe places.
Last spring I sa,w a wagtail's nest built under the
sill of a bay window of a public-house, just outside a
room where noisy dances were often carried on, and
above the entrance to a skittle alley. Not only was
the wagtail so fearless, but a cuckoo also laid her egg
in the nest, and the young cuckoo was hatched, and of
course looked at many times a day by curious eyes.

Perhaps the strangest nesting-place chosen by any
bird is that depicted in the sketch at the top of this
article. A human skull, a stray from a neglected pri-
vate museum, was lying in some out-of-the-way corner
in a garden, and a wren built her nest in it. The
skull is in the possession of my friend Harcourt, who
made the sketch from it.

What a subject this presents to moralize upon ! The
head that once was the birthplace of so many thoughts,
to be now the birthplace of innocent little birds. The
head that once felt so many hopes and fears, so many
anxieties and troubles, to again have within it, in the
persons of the wrens, the joys and cares of a family.
Just imagine the contrast between then and now.
Did the man who owned that head ever think, as he
trod the pavement in all the vigour of life, of the

Life in Death, 187

ultimate fate of his headpiece — to be the nursery of a
bird. Faugh ! it makes one shudder to think of One
is used to the idea of worms and corruption and decay,
but not to the thought that one's head should be so used.
It is worse than to be made a skeleton of and hung up
in a museum for the advancement of science.

The sketch is an exact delineation of the position of
the skull and the nest, and shows how the bird entered.
I forget how many eggs were laid, but it was rather
more than the usual number.

88 Mo2intaifi, Meadow, and Mere

XXL
HARVEST-TIME

The welcome warmth of the summer sun has yellowed

the waving corn,
And over a golden billowy sea the south wind greets

the morn ;
Wealth and plenty all over the land have fallen in

gentle rain,
And the breezes murmur their requiems soft o'er the

sheeny waves of grain.

In the healthful life of the early dawn the reapers go
forth to mow ;

Before the sweep of the long scythe blade the sorrow-
ing ears lie low.

A sigh and a moan go over the fields like to the
softened roar

Of the saddening voice of the distant waves that surge
on the lonely shore.

Harvest-time 189

The noontide comes with its glaring heat, and the

earth lies breathless and still ;
The breeze has fallen, a haze has risen, that blots out

valley and hill ;
The birds in the wood have ceased their song, the

sleepy murmur of bees
Is the only sound we hear in the heat, amidst the

motionless trees.

The evening neai's, and the weary team is toiling
adown the lane

Where arching hazels seem whispering words of mys-
tery to the grain.

A mellowing light falls over all from the fast westering
Sim,

And silent thanks are given to God as the long day's
work is done.

Now all the valley is filled with mist, an ocean with
island trees,

And queenly and clear the harvest moon looks down
on shadowy seas

With holy light and a holy calm, and across the gazer's
soul

Glad thoughts of the harvest-time of Life in long pro-
cession roll.

iQO Mountai7i, Meadow, and Mere

XXII.
RABBITING

Raebiting is the third stage in the shooter's progress.
The first may be taken to be the surreptitious practice
with pistols at marks, at an age when our fond
mothers believed we possessed no such dangerous toys.
Then comes the hedge-popping stage, when blackbirds
and thrushes, fieldfares and redwings, with sometimes
an incautious woodpigeon, formed our prey. It is a
question, too, whether those hedge-popping days did
not give us the best sport of all. It needed a quick
shot to stop a blackbird as it just topped the hedge,
and was lost to sight the other side. The long and
careful stalks, too, from hedge to hedge, after a flock of
redwings and fieldfares, presented aU the elements on a
smaller scale that are contained in a grander sport ;
and as we were smaller ourselves, and much more

UALUlil.NU.

Rabbiting 1 9 1

easily satisfied than we are now, why, I think I am not
far wrong in saying that we enjoyed our humble sport
then quite as well as we have more ambitious sport
since. Then, when we aspire to rabbit shooting, we
consider ourselves to be fully fledged sportsmen, want-
ing only the opportunity to distinguish ourselves at
anything, from battue shooting to deerstalking.

I can well remember the first rabbit I killed. We
were ferreting for rats under a haystack, when a rabbit
unexpectedly bolted out. I had that day been en-
trusted with a double-barrelled gun. I fired the first
barrel off somewhere or other, being in too much of a
hurry to take aim. Fortunately I hit nobody. With
the second barrel I managed by a wonderful fluke to
hit bunny and lay him kicking on the grass. My
second rabbit gave me far more trouble. It frequented
the flues under an old brickmaking shed, and when the
ferret was put into one of these flues, the rabbit just
popped out of the other end of the flue and into the
next one as quick as hghtning. We went there for
three evenings before we could make him give a clean
bolt, and then we shot him.

In some respects it is fortunate that the rabbit is so
prolific, for he is very relentlessly pursued. Farmers,
of course, are not very fond of them, and the tenant
farmers should always be allowed by their landlords

192 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

to kill as many of them as they like, upon condition
of their preserving the winged game and hares. It
may be as well where the preserving is very strict
not to allow them to be shot, as it is a very hard
thing for a man, when he has a gun in his hand,
to resist the temptation of taking a sly shot at a hare
or a covey of partridges when nobody is looking.
Trapping and ferreting the rabbits ought, however,
to be always allowed. With the aid of ferrets we
have long odds against the poor rabbits. The very
scent of a ferret entering a burrow is sufl&cient to
start bunny oflf, if he is not aware that there are other
ememies waiting for him outside. Then he will not
bolt until he is absolutely compelled. Ferrets and
rabbiting are so closely concerned, that it may not be
amiss if I say a few words concerning the former.
Any boy reading this chapter may thank me for a
few practical hints, which those who have no interest in
them can skip. It is no easy matter to keep ferrets in
good condition, and it is still harder to rear a litter of
young ones successfully. Useful information, too, is
hard to get, as I found when I used to keep ferrets,
which I did much against the wish of my people at
home. I confess to feeling a liking for these useful
little animals, and I used to pet them so much, that
they grew quite fond of me, and would let me do what

Rabbiting 193

I liked with them. I never got bitten at all badly, but
I have seen some very severe and dangerous bites
received by persons who have incautiously handled
them. In taking up ferrets, seize them quickly and
surely by the neck. If you hesitate, and keep poking
at them, you are sure to get bitten. It is just the same
as dealing with a savage dog. If he sees that you are
afraid of him he will snap at you. If you approach
him boldly he will admit your superiority. Ferrets
should be kept in a large hutch, divided into two com-
partments— one for sleeping in, aud the other for feed-
ing and exercise. It should be kept scrupulously
clean and dry ; and, as ferrets are very clean and tidy
animals, this may be easily done. Cleanliness is the
sure preventative against footrot, that plague of the
ferret-keeper. Hay is often given to ferrets to lie
in, but it is apt to make them unhealthy,, and I
prefer straw, or better still, soft pine wood shavings,
the odour from which keeps away insects. Feed
the ferrets with bread and milk, and now and then
a little fresh meat, ofial, &c. If from any cause
they are low in condition, and iU, and you can
procure a dead cat, give them that. It wiU fatten
them up and restore them to health in a surprising
manner. When the female is about to have young
ones, separate her from the male, and on no account

o

194 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

disturb her by looking at her or touching her until
the young ones can run about and eat meat, or she
will kill them.

It is best to muzzle fen-ets when they are used, as
otherwise they may catch a rabbit in its burrow, and,
after satisfying theii- hunger, curl themselves up and
go to sleep. If such a thing does happen, a light
charge of powder fired down the burrow may bring
them out. If it does not, you can only set some one
to watch the hole, and wait with patience for its
coming out.

The cruel plan of muzzling them by sewing up
the mouth should never be followed. Here are two
methods perfectly efiicacious and harmless. " Tie a
piece of soft string round the neck of the ferret close
to the head, and leave two rather long ends. Tie
another piece round the under jaw, passing it under
the tongue, and then around over the upper jaw, where
tie it ; also leaving long ends. The mouth being thus
closed, tie all the ends together in one knot on the top
of the head." Or, "Double a piece of string and
tie a small loop, which place on the top of the head
with the knot on the neck. Pass the ends of the
string around the neck, and tie a second knot
under the jaws ; then pass over the nose, where
make a third knot, and finally tie the ends through

Rabbiting 195

the loop at the top of the head so as to make all
secure."

I prefer the last mode of doing it, as being more
simple than the other.

On fine September and October days, when the air
is bracing and the day bright, an afternoon's rabbiting
is productive of much fun. Where there are many
burrows the nets will probably be used to aid the gun.
There is great art in fixing a rabbit net across a bur-
row, so that bunny, when he pops out like a cannon
ball from a gun, shaU be caught in its folds, and not
merely dash it aside. When he is in it he must be
pounced upon at once, or he may struggle free.

Whether we take part in a rabbit battue in some well
preserved woods, gr are satisfied with an occasional
shot at bunny as he goes loupiug over the gorse of a
free common, he is sure to atibrd sport. What I like
best is a lazy saunter with a gun along the hedgerows
and the edges of the coppices, quietly stealing up with-
in shot, or coming suddenly upon the rabbits around
corners.

I have often also watched for them at dusk,
ensconsed behind a hedge or up a tree, waiting until
they come out of their burrows to feed. The most
artistic mode of shooting them then is with a pea
rifle.

196 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

■ And, lastly, I have seen famous fun when the reaping
machine has left only a small patch of corn standing in
the centre of a field, in which the rabbits are gathered
in numbers. Oh, the fun of chevying them with sticks
and stones as they bolted out, and the roars of laughter
when two fellows charged the same rabbit and came
into collision with each other, or fell headlong on the
grass !

( 197 )

XXIIL
A DAY'S PIKE FISHING IN NORFOLK

I HAD not handled a rod for over eighteen months, and
the love of fishing, born in me, slumbered quietly, only
breaking out occasionally when some piscatorial friend
boasted of his exploits. I had literally had no leisure
to pursue the angler's idle art, and long disuse had
brought with it a quasi forgetfulness of its delights
and allurements. But a few bracing days one Feb-
ruary, an almost accidental overhauling of some pike
tackle, and last, but not least, the sight of a brace of
twenty-pound pike in the Norwich fish market, made
me determine to have at least one day among the pike
before the season closed. And a right pleasant day I
had. Not a successful day as Norfolk fishing days
go, but successful enough to satisfy one who had not
fished for so long. Most of my papers have the

igS Mountaiit, Meadow, and Mere

glorious border-land of "Wales for their battle-field,
and it is one of the greatest changes conceivable to
come from Wales to Norfolk. From crags and hills to
marish flats and gently undulating meadows; from
dashing torrents and crystal streams to slowly creep-
ing rivers and sleeping dykes, such as would make the
lament of the dying swan doubly mournful, floated he
down their oily waters; from salmon and trout to
pike and bream ; from deep bays hemmed in by frown-
ing headlands, whence the seafowl clang and sweep, to
a bare coast that trends away right and left in
monotonous flatness. Such is the change and contrast.
Yet there is a charm in the evidences of superior
cultivation and farming in Norfolk. There is a
beauty in the marshes even, that stretch far away with
their many-coloured grasses, of ever-changing sheen, as
the cloud-shadows fleet over them and the wind
sways them into billowy undulations. The cattle stand
and lie in picturesque groups, and the wherries on the
rivers, the windmills on the banks, and the semi-
Dutch river-side houses lend a foreign look to the
scene, as viewed by an unaccustomed eye.

I availed myself of an invitation for a day's pike
fishing at Buxton, on the river Bure, or North River,
and drove over with my friend the previous evening.
One of the first questions to the man on our arrival
was —

A Days Pike Fishing in Norfolk 199

" What sort of bait have you got ? "

" About a dozen small gudgeon, sir, and one ' flat ' "
(a small bream).

" That won't do. You must take the nets the first
thing in the morning and get some more."

Over our grog and pipes we had a long and pleasant
chat, and Mr. G — showed me a form of gorge bait
tackle which was new to me, and may be new to some
of my readers. The brass wire of the ordinary gorge
hook is cut away, and the gimp fastened to the thick-
est part or shoulder of the lead, either by drilling a
hole through or otherwise. The lead is then pushed
inside the bait, and the gimp is brought with a needle
out at its shoulder. Mr. G — informed me that a hook
so baited is much more killing than a hook baited in the
ordinary fashion, and I can quite believe it, as its
gyrations in the water would be much more varied ;
but I fancy it would be much more likely to catch in
the weeds. I intend to try it at the first opportunity,
and report upon it. In the "cbaws," I believe, the
bait will spin capitally.

The morning came, dull and cloudy, with a strong
wind and promise of rain, which promise was pretty
liberally fulfilled. From the window we could see the
men with the casting-net far down the river, and
presently we went to meet them, my host, a man of

200 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

fifty, challenging me to jump the wide ditches, which
challenge I declined, on account of an ankle still weak
from an old sprain. The baits consisted of small
g-udgeons, too small for our tackle and the clouded
water, and one small bream, which Mr. G — put on his
flight, with the object of tempting a big fish, which
lay in a bend of the river above the mills. The boat
was taken through the lock to a broad reach of water,
above where the " channel " was from six to eight feet
in depth, and the " fleet " (Norfolk for shallow) was
free from weeds. It was past eleven o'clock when we
embarked, and the wind had risen to a regular gale,
which blew up stream, and sent us along at such a
rate that it was sometimes necessary to back water to
prevent the baits coming to the surface. We trailed
this reach up and down through pouring rain, and hard
work it was for the man who rowed us. Mi\ G — and
I sat one at each end of the boat, and when one or
other of us stood up, the wind would " slew " the boat
around, to our boatman's intense disgust.

Landing Mr. G — by the boathouse to spin for his
big fish, which had escaped him some time ago, I went
on, and soon struck and landed a nice little fish of
three pounds. This appears to be an excellent reach
for pike and perch, and Mr. G — told me of an enor-
mous catch of bream he once had there. The day was

A Days Pike Fishing in Norfolk 201

so wretched that we could not possibly expect good
sport, yet I had two or three more runs there, and Mr.
G — landed another small jack. At half-past one we
left off for a feed, and afterwards drove to Bramp-
ton, a spot higher up the river ; and in the tail water
below Burgh Mills it seemed as if we were going to
make up for the previous ill luck. It was well on in
the afternoon, and the rain had ceased. Almost at the
first cast I had a run, and landed a fish. A few yards
lower down another fish broke away three times, and
1 hooked and landed him the fourth. In another
half-dozen yards I got hold of " the largest fish of the
day," and of course he broke away, the gimp parting
at a strain of certainly not over two pounds. I could
not get a sight of the fish, so I could not speculate as
to his weight. With him went the only spinning
flight I had that would do for the small baits we were
using, so I put on a gorge hook, and immediately had
a run in the same spot, and I believe from the same
fish ; but he refused to pouch it. I signalled to the
boy who carried the gudgeons (which were in a pail
half full of water), and who was some distance off, and
proceeded to unloose my trace. Looking around again,
I saw Mr. G — and the boy engaged in groping among
the grass. Fearing the worst, I hurried up, and found
that the unlucky urchin had got the pail between his

202 Motmtai7t, Meadow, and Mere

legs in his hurry, and tumbled over it, shooting its con-
tents into a ditch. All our bait was gone just as the
pike were on the feed. It was no use crjdng over
" spilt milk," so I rummaged up an old bait, and with
it caught another jack. Then we had to leave off.
Mr. G — had caught two in the mill-tail ; and if our
bait had not vanished we might have had several more,
as the pike had suddenly commenced feeding well.
They refused, however, to look at the spoon bait,
although the American pattern, with a tuft of red wool
over the hooks, is generally very killing among the
pike and perch in Norfolk waters. As it was, we left
off with seven jack ; none of them large. I saw
enough of the water to believe that it contains some
heavy fish, and I am informed that such is the case.
As the river is navigable «ome distance further up, the
weeds are kept down, and the absence of bushes on the
bank renders it delightfully easy work spinning.
Above Burgh Mills is a long reach of water, where
some heavy fish lie. The season had been so mild,
that the fish were even then heavy in spawn and inac-
tive, and the pike season closed much earlier than
usual that year. Several very heavy fish were caught
in the preserved waters in Norfolk the same season,
the heaviest in those waters, where it is the custom to
turn in all those under three pounds or so.

A Days Pike Fishing in Norfolk 203

In the borderland of Wales and other districts, where
the scenery is varied and interesting, it is no great
hardship to have poor sport ; but in Norfolk one
depends entn-ely on the sport for pleasure, especially
in the winter. At eventide there is certainly some
beauty in the undulating fields and woods half
shrouded in the gloaming, and in the long stretch of
ploughland rising in gradually deepening purple, until
it is outhned with a line of intense black against the
stormy orange sky, on which a long low line of olive-
green cloud is resting. Undoubtedly there are many
pretty spots in Norfolk, but they do not usually come
in the way of the angler, and, failing a heavy catch, he
has nothing but sluggish stream and steaming marsh
with which to solace himself.

I should mention a formidable instrument found in
the bottom of the boat, and sent to me afterwards by
Mr. G — , who thought it belonged to me. It consisted
of a large bullet fixed to the end of a strip of whale-
bone from an umbrella, and had evidently been used
for stunning fish, for which it is admirably adapted.
I would recommend its adoption by the humane
angler.

In spite of wind and rain I had a most pleasant day.
I can certainly say one thing in favour of the Norfolk
people, and that is, that they are extremely hospitable

204 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

— as far, at least, as my experience of them goes, and
that is not a little.

I returned to Norwich the next morning by coach
from Horstead. Norfolk is still in the dark as far as
railways are concerned, and smacks considerably of the
" olden time " in its means of locomotion.

OLD TOWER ON THE YABE, NOliWICH.

( 205 )

XXIV.
A WHIFF OF THE SEA

Who has not felt at times an insatiable longing to
escape from the monotony of one's ordinary occupation
and rush off to the nearest watering-place for a sight
of the grand old sea and a whiff of the bracing winds
which blow over it ? What visions cross the brain as
we sit fagged and weary by the light of the midnight
lamp, of the bonny wild waves sparkling in the sun ;
of flowery slopes between the precipitous cliffs ; of sea-
birds swooping from rocky ledges, and of mag-
nificent sunsets behind the level sea ! And what a
relief, say, on a Saturday to close the book, throw down
the pen, lock up the papers, and speed as fast as the
train can carry us to the realization of our wishes.
Oh, the sweetness of such brief holidays, aU the
pleasanter because short and few and far between ! A

2o6 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

holiday, methinks, should never be prolonged until the
freshness has worn off.

It is even an advantage to be a bachelor in taking
such brief excursions. There is no better half to inter-
fere with one's arrangements, or be cross because she
cannot accompany us. It does not take long to pack
up, and I take care to put in a case of sea-fishing
tackle, in view of probable requirements. The beauty
of only having oneself to consult is, that one need not
decide where to go until the last moment, and accord-
ingly it is only as I arrive at the ticket office that I
decide upon Borth. There, at least, I shall be quiet,
and I feel just now as if that were the greatest
desideratum. Well, here I am in the train ; and, as my
habit is while travelling, I examine myself, as it were,
as to whether things at home are left in proper trim,
if I have everything I want, and how many changes I
shall have to make and where ? Then to settle down
quietly to the perusal of my paper or a comfortable nap.

On we speed through moimtain scenery which
grows wilder every mile ; past leaping cataracts which
almost seem to overhang the line, woods which grow
more stunted as we near the sea ; villages which grow
more picturesque and, alas ! more dirty, until it is get-
ting dusk and the rhythmic rattling of the train has
resolved itself into a song mth regular cadences, lulling

A Whiff of the Sea 207

the mind until the whilom active thoughts grow
wandering and the senses duUer. I am awaked from
a sound sleep by a gust of wind through the open
window, carrying with it the unmistakeable odour of
the sea. There it is, that long gTey line like a wall
just discernible in the summer twilight over the hazy
marsh. What a luxury it is to take in breath after
breath of the fresh breeze, so invigorating and spirit-
cheering after the sultry inland air ! Now we pass by
the side of the Dovey, and over its sands the white
seabirds are flying, the highest of them having the
crimson of the sunset still reflected on their breasts.
How weird their cries sound in the gloaming ! Along
the edge of a dyke six herons stand solemnly in a row,
a most unusual sight, for generally speaking a heron
loves his own company better than that of his brethren.
On a sandbank in the estuary are grouped a number
of sooty cormorants, and over the nearest marsh the
lap\vings sweep and toss, and scream in rare affiight
at the gunner walking beneath them.

Borth at last ; and after replenishing the inner man
and refreshing the outer ^vith a wash, I turn out for a
stroll along the edge of the waves, and listen to their
inspiriting music. The long subdued murmur of the
summer sea and the dreamy plash of its waves are to
my mind the pleasantest of nature's sounds. In them

2o8 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

there is a music and poetry that is almost human in
its expression. A grand teacher is the sea. By its
side the thoughts seem to have freer range and larger
scope ; and by the inspiration born of it many a noble
word has been written and spoken, and many readers
and hearers have indirectly felt its influence. But see,
the horizon is no longer visible. You cannot tell
where the sea ends and sky begins. The vessels in
the ofting seem floating in the air. The lights in the
villages are disappearing fast. " The day has ended,
the night has descended," and I retire to rest, with the
window of my room wide open to catch the faintest
breeze from the sea and to let in its " voices of the
night " to be my lullaby.

With the daylight I am up, and in the sea, sporting
with the buoyant waves ; now floating on my back
and letting them toss me where they will, and then
striking out vigorously through the cool, clear water.
It is half an hour of exquisite and unalloyed enjoy-
ment.

Let us see what manner of place Borth is. To the
north is the estuary of the Dovey, with its banks of
yellow sand, and on the further side is a town with a
musical name — Aberdovey — and, as the song says,
musical bells. I do not know whether they are so or
not, but certain it is that bells always sound sweeter

A Whiff of the Sea 209

and mellower by the water's side, and the sound of their
pealing is very beautiful when it comes over a wide
stretch of the sea on a quiet sabbath morn. Beyond
Aberdovey the hills rise in long green slopes to meet
the blue sky. Southward are beetling, dark-brown
cliffs, against which the sea always dashes as if in fury
at the sudden check, and when there is the least wind,
sends up columns of white spray. Between the
estuary and the cliffs is a long curve of coast, with a
firm sandy beach, most delightful to walk upon or
bathe from. Above that is a steep bank of pebbles, the
protecting boundary of the road and adjacent moor.
Near the Dovey are dry, sandy dunes, covered with
scant herbage, and here the rabbits hterally swarm. I
believe that visitors staying at the Hotel can obtain
leave to shoot in this warren. To the west is of
course the sea ; and inland, with a great sweep and curve
far back to the foot of its bordering hills, stretches a
morass, once very wild and dangerous, but now being
gradually drained and cultivated. It is worth while
to venture a little way on this bog at night, to listen
to the strange cries of the different birds. You will
hear the shrill whistle of the curlew, the wilder scream
of the lapwing, the hoarse croak of the coot, the
sharper call of the water-hen, and sometimes the hollow
booming of the bittern. In the winter you will also

p

2IO Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

hear the whistlings and callings of the different species
of wildfowl. There are always, too, numberless inexpli-
cable noises, some of birds and small animals, whose
note you cannot recognize, and other mysterious
sounds which apparently come from the bog itself, and
are produced no one knows how.

The small river which runs through this bog holds
plenty of river and sea trout. I recollect one very hot
day having good sport there with the worm. The
water (in the higher reaches) was so brilliantly clear,
that they would not look at a fly, and in my despair I
went to a farmyard and dug up a lot of red worms.
These the trout rushed at furiously ; and ere long I
had made a good basket, and that on a day when most
anglers would laugh at the idea of taking a rod in
hand.

In the winter the wildfowl shooting along the
estuary and on the marsh is rather above the average.

After breakfast I go to the old little church by tlie
sea, for the only Enghsh service of the day. As I
reach it the clerk is tui'ning out a religiously in-
clined pig, which has taken it into its head to go to
church also. It is quite amusing to see the number and
obtrusiveness of the pigs in all the Welsh fishing
villages. Like the Irishman's pig, they are quite at
home everywhere.

A Whiff of the Sea 211

The churchyard is a sad record of deaths by drown-
ing. The storm that caused the wreck of the Royal
Charter made thirteen widows in this little village.
There is scarcely a fireside which has not a chair made
vacant by the beautiful, cruel sea.

In the evening curiosity leads me into a Welsh
chapel ; and if ever earnestness and simple rugged piety
were shown in men's faces, they are shown in that
homely fisher congregation. Although I cannot under-
stand a word, I yet can understand the influence of the
vigorous sermon with which the minister with the ill-
cut habiliments keeps the listeners, as it were, spell-
bound for the best part of an hour. The attention of
the people is unwavering, save when a strange sail
comes within sight of the windows — every eye watches
her while in view.

As I want to have a try at the mackerel in the
morning, I must see about engaging a boat. I accord-
ingly make my way down the long, stragghng street of
the village towards the place where they are all drawn
up on the beach. I often stop on the way to listen to
the plaintive Cambrian melodies that are crooned out by
the peat fires ; but the smell of the peat smoke, which
is very unpleasant to me, drives me at last down to the
shore. Here I come upon an old sailor who is sitting
on the stones and looking out to sea with his glass. I

2 1 2 Mountam, Meadow, ajid Mere

sit down by him and enter into conversation, as I love
to do with old men, by sea and land. Their experi-
ence of the world is always worth listening to. He
points out to me the best boat.

" Where shall I find her owner ? "

" His name is Thomas Jones. He lives at the
furthest cottage in that row of white houses. Good
night, sir. I am very dry to-night, sir."

" Then take a dip in the sea."

" Ah, I mean dry inside. Thank you, sir."

What a shame it is that the lower classes should
expect a gratuity, or " tip," for every trifling service
they render you. What if the same principle were
extended higher up in the world ? Would there not
be an outcry ?

By Jove ! there is a woman in a Welsh hat. One of
the real old-fashioned sort — ^true beaver. Before the
railway reached Borth, and cheap excursions were
instituted, these hats were not such a rare sight as
they are now ; but the last five or six years have
witnessed their almost total extinction, and a bad
exchange has been made for tawdry imitations of
modern bonnets, in which the Welsh maidens do not
look half so comely as formerly.

I reach Thomas Jones' cottage — built of stone, by
the way, and not of turf, like many of the humbler

A Whiff of the Sea 213

dwellings. I knock, and in answer to some words in
Welsh, which I take to be " Come in," I open the door,
and am nearly blinded by the sudden rush of peat
smoke out of the heated room. When I am sufficiently
recovered to see, I make the necessary arrangements
with Thomas Jones, an old man who has just got out
of bed to speak to me. In the same room are other
beds, from which the whole family, male and female,
are staring at the intruder. I am glad to get out into
the breeze again, and I wonder how I should feel if I
had to go to bed at half-past eight o'clock, because
there was nothing else to do.

A\^at a magnificent sunset over the sea and Bardsey
Island ! One could almost fancy it the storming
of a city. Lurid flames seem springing from above
the battlemented rocks, and shoot upwards till they
render still more lurid the masses of smoke-like
clouds which hang over in fantastic forms. The crests
of the waves sparkle red, like the helmets of soldiers
hastening to the assault, and the thunder of the surf,
caused by the rising wind, breaking upon the cliffs,
sounds like the terrible roar of a bombardment. Then,
as the crimson fades out of the sky and the cries of the
seabirds ring over the sands, the closing scene — the
sacking of the city and the screams of the women —
is strongly pictured.

214 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

. The morning comes drizzly and cold, a contrast to
yesterday. I saunter down to where the boat is wait-
ing for the tide. We are off at last ; and, after beating
out a couple of miles to windward, we make towards
Aberystwith. Two lines with silver spinners attached
are trailed behind us, but for a long time we get no
bites. The day turns out gusty and showery. Some-
times we sit upon the weather gunwale, to keep the boat
up under a strong gust. Ours is the only boat out to-day.
At other times when the wind lulls we barely creep
along, plunging heavily in the swell, the old man
whistling softly to himself for a breeze. To my mind
it is glorious, sailing along under the cliffs, black, brown,
and grey, with emerald patches here and there, where a
marshy ravine runs down to the sea. Still we get no
bites, and Aberystwith is close to. We turn, and are
half-way back to Borth with like ill success. Sud-
denly the line I hold is tugged at by something. I
haul in a lovely mackerel glittering like silver and
precious stones. The fun now begins in earnest. One
after another we pull the fish in, the old man and I,
while his son looks after the sails. Scarcely has the
lead time to sink before the electric thi'ill of a bite is
felt. The basket fills rapidly, and the cry is "still
they come." I am looked upon as a lucky man, for no
fish have been caught for a long time. I have no

A Whiff of the Sea 215

doubt the men would, as they say, take me out again
for nothing, could I stay another day.

All things pleasant have an end. Through a little
careless steering the boat has fallen off from the wind,
without the sheet being loosened, and a sudden
gust striking with great force the flat surface of the
sail, the mast gives way — being, I suppose, rather
rotten — and, breaking off close by the thwart, goes
overboard with a crash. The helm is put hard over in
an instant, but the hamper of the fallen sail prevents
her head coming up to the wind, so I get out an oar
and pull her stern to leeward while the men get the
wreck in. It was very nearly a capsize, and I have
kicked off my boots to be ready for a swim. Happily
that was not needed ; but our mackerel fishinof is cut
short, and, as the sea is too heavy for rowing at the
pace required, we run into a quiet cove for shelter.
There I leave them and walk back to Borth along
the top of the cliff.

Home again now, leaning out of the carriage window
to take my last whiff of the sea ; we speed back
through the wooded valleys and level cornlands,
reaching too soon the hot and stuffy town.

2i6 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

XXV.

THE ANGLER'S WINTER

When the landscape is a " watercolour-painter's land-
scape " — tliat is, when Autumn browns and reds and
yellows take the place of the summer green, which,
while it is so charming in its freshness in the country
itself, is so strangely wanting in beauty in a picture —
the angler's work is nearly done. No longer does he
ramble fly rod in hand by the purling trout-stream,
down which float, instead of May-flies, the brown dead
leaves. The trout, so plump and briglit-scaled in the
spring and summer, are now becoming " long and lank
and brown," as their spawning season draws near.
Regretfully the trusty wand is laid up in its winter
quarters, after being well oiled for protection against
extreme diyness. For want of this precaution I have
known many a rod snap in the most unacco un table

The Angler s Winter 217

manner when first used the following season. Look-
ing through one's fly book at the array of tried and
well-proved lures ; the polish taken off them as an
angler loves to see it, the gut frayed and limp ; what
memories do they not recall ! This one caught you that
heavy basket of red-spotted beauties on that mild
spring day, when the gentle south wind wafted white
cloudlets across the sky and mellowed the sun glare,
and raised a ripple on the still deeps that made every
part fishable : when it was a perfect luxury to be out
in the fresh spring beauty and by the side of a river
which flowed so musically over its clean pebbly beds
and between its worn old rocks : when the little
cascades gleamed silvery white, and the eddies beneath
them whirled about the snowlike foam, and then shot
away in streams of sheeny blue and purple and black :
when, above all, the river was alive with trout ;
splashes aU over the surface where the trout leaped
at the dancing gnats ; quiet circles where the drowning
March-bro^vns were sucked quietly in ; and now and
then the heavy plunge of a big fish. Most actively at
work aU the day long ! yet there was time to feel the
outward beauty. Although the arm and wrist ached
sorely, yet it was impossible to leave off until the
night shadows came on. Look at this rough green-
bodied fly with a black hackle sparingly twisted aroiuid

2i8 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

it ! Do you not remember when that was made — and
used for the first and only time ? — Shut your eyes,
and it all comes before you as plainly as if a painter
had limned it. The hot, bright day — so hot and
bright, that it was hard to find coolness or shade any-
where. The river low and clear, and the fish most
decidedly not on the feed. You are sitting on a slop-
ing slab of limestone, the lower end of which is laved
by the water. Above you is a high steep rock which
gives you welcome shade, and is festooned with ferns, —
harts-tongue, and maiden-hair, in luxuriant clusters.
On the grey limestone and the vivid green vegetation
the corruscating reflections of hght from the sparkling
wavelets play like myriads of fairy shuttles shooting
to and fro and weaving a brilliant web. On a boulder
in midstream a dipper sits, ever and anon making a
dive into the stream and reappearing a yard or so
above the stone, and floating back to it to resume its
position. Happy dipper ! so cool this hot day, and
enjoying a bathe without the trouble of undressing.
Suddenly a caterpillar falls 'pat on the water from a
tree overhead. Writhing in evident discomfort at his
sudden change of element, he is carried away by the
stream. All at once there is a regular " boil " in the
water as a big trout rushes at him ! The hint is not
lost. As you fail to find another caterpillar, you make

The Angler s Winter 219

the best imitation you can from the materials in your
fly book ;. and the big trout, trusting to secure another
tasty morsel, rises incautiously at it, and finds that he
has " caught a tartar." This black hackle enticed a
hungry sahnon whom you were not seeking to capture,
and your slight trout rod had its work cut out to land
him. That white fluffy fly brought to basket the
famous trout which used to lurk beneath the
buttresses of the grey old bridge, and defied scores of
anglers who from the roadway above had spent hours
and hours employing their most seductive wiles. But
you, in the still summer evening when the gloaming was
darkening the valley, half waded half swam to the ledge
of rock at the foot of the massive buttress, and while
from the deep dark pool sounded faint but numerous
splashes of rising fish, you quietly and cautiously
" dibbed " your " white moth " on the water, and
secured the four-pounder, which half the population of
the little village came to see the next day, and you
walked about, the hero of the hour.

Such reveries and memories will turn the veriest
winter's day into summer; but not all the angler's
winter is so passed. In late autumn and early winter
are still, mild days when such leaves as have still to
fall, fall straight down to the ground, neither wafted
this way nor that by the faintest breath of wind. The

2 20 Mountai7i, Meadow, and Mere

water's surface is quiet and unrippled, and the water
is very black and clear. On such days the big old
roach come on the feed. The cunning old fellows that
during the summer only come furtively and at night
from the fastnesses of their deep holes, and are too
deep and crafty to be often tempted by the angler's
bait, now seem to have lost some of their caution.
Either the cold sharpens their hunger or the river is
less disturbed by bipeds, or whatever the reason is,
these big old roach may be taken pretty easily in the
noontime of these fine open winter days. I recollect a
spot where we used to catch some very fine ones. It
was where a trout stream, dammed up by a millpool,
flowed quietly and canal-like under the road — a quiet
country one. The stream was spanned by a low brick
bridge, so low as to be a culvert merely, for the water
reached to within six inches of the top of the arch.
We discovered it in tliis wise. We had been spinning
with a spoon bait for jack in a neighbouring canal,
without success, and in the faint hope of securing some
gudgeons, as a more attractive bait, we put on a worm
tackle, and, fishing off" the road, quickly saw the float
dip in the quiet way in which a roach moves it. To our
astonishment, a roach of three-quarters of a pound in
weight was the result. Afterwards we made many
journeys to the place, and baiting with wasp gi'ubs,

The Angler s Winter 221

which had been carefully baked and kept in the cellar
on dry straw since the storming of the nest in the sum-
mer, we generall}" had good sport ; but only in the
winter. In the summer the fish seemed to have
moved away, or at all events only the very small ones
would bite. We would let the float swim quietly, in
company with dead leaves and sticks, through the scum
which generally formed at the head of the culvert, as
far underneath as it would go, and upon puEing it up
again we often found that we had a fish on. That
was in Shropshire, but I would particularly mention
that in the Norfolk waters this season of the year is
prolific. If Mr. Francis still wants to catch a two-
pounder, let him try his hand in some of the nineteen-
feet deep holes in the naiTOw Yare above Harford and
Cringleford bridges, or in the Bure by Buxton. Nor
are roach the only members of the finny tribe which
are " getatable." Chub (and carp, also, they say,
although I have never succeeded in catching any in
the winter, albeit I fi.shed in perhaps the best stocked
piece of water in England) will also take the bait.
But the charm of chub fishing is not now. There is
none of the delicious wandering from deep to deep and
picking up a fish here and there from the scores
basking under the fringing wiUows. Steady, patient
angling in deep holes alone will produce success.

2 22 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

■ Happy is tlie angler who lives near a grayling
river ! He need not hide away his fly rod until
Christmas. He will take advantage of fine midday
hours to flog the cold, steely-blue fords, and consider
himself repaid if a brace of sheeny grayling rewards
his eflbrts. Alas for their rarity ! grayling are so
seldom met with, in comparison with trout. But
possibly if they were more common they would cease
to be so prized as they are now. We may as well be
thankful for small mercies.

Pike and perch are, however, the stock fish of the
angler in the winter. The largest perch may now be
taken by spinning; while pike fishing, so that it be
trolling or spinning, and not live baiting, is to my mind
the most exhilarating pastime possible to the angler at
this season of the year. To issue forth on a bracing,
windy day ; to wander by the river side, which even
in winter is a delightful place, is of itself pleasant, if
taken as a walk merely. But when to tliis is added
the constant exercise of wielding a heavy pike rod,
the excitement of anticipation and the still keener
excitement of hooking, playing, and landing a heavy
fish, while healthful breezes boisterously eralirace one,
bringing a ruddier glow to the cheek and a clearer
white to the eye, a firmer tread to the fuot and
greater vigour to the brain, why, then I say that we

The Angler s Winter 223

may be thankful winter has come and brought with it
so much keen enjoyment. Pike, too, are not so tender
as to be influenced by the wind having a touch of the
east in it. Nay, sometimes they run all the better
when the wind is most piercingly cold. He is not a
bad specimen of a muscular Chiistian who says, in
his Ode to the North-East wind —

" Jovial wind of winter,
Turn us out to play ;
Sweep the golden reed beds,
Crisp the lazy dyke,
Hunger into madness
Every plunging pike."

Every one, however, has not the taste for such rough
enjoyments, or perhaps has not the physical strength
necessary for their perfect enjoyment. For him, then,
there is the pleasure of taking a stroll in an idle hour
by river or mere side. Every angler knows what it is to
picture to himself how he would fish such a spot ! what
a likely hole this seems for a pike, and that a sure find
for a shoal of perch ! how that bend of the river could
be cast over without getting entangled in the over-
hanging bushes ! what a capital place this would be to
land the fish which are sure to lie under the shelter of
that submerged tree ! and so on. What numerous
plans are formed for next year's excursions — most of
them, alas ! in all probability, will not be carried out —

2 24 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

and what crafty expedients will be tried to capture the
big fish that have escaped us before. A winter after-
noon passes pleasantly in such imaginings. One
learns a great deal, too, in such rambles. The water is
often very clear, and the frost has cut the weeds down
so that one learns the topography of the river bed, and
the exact locale of the " homes " of the fish.

There are days, however, when even this resource is
not available ; but, as it is unlikely that any man is an
angler and nothing else, then other occupations come in.
In the evenings, or when he is inclined to read, there
are no end of books upon his favourite sport with which
he may console himself — moving adventures of innu-
merable sportsmen on flood and field, " mountain,
meadow, and mere." If he has literary tastes, he may
write upon his favoiu'ite sports, and so not only gain
publicity and pelf, but, what is far more valuable, the
acquaintance and friendship of kindred spirits, with
whom otherwise he would not have foregathered.

However the angler's winter be spent, I hope that it
is with my readers — with whom I thus endeavour to
chat, as it were " across the walnuts and the wine " — a
merry and a happy one.

( 225 )

THE STILE.

XXVL

A NOVEMBER AFTERNOON

A PALL of blue-black cloud that darkens all the wold,

A dense wall in the east, and stretching far

Beyond the zenith. 'Neath it autumn winds blow

cold,
And birds sit silent, waiting for the war
Of elements. Then suddenly the sun gleams out
Low down the west, suffusing all with light ;
In one sweet burst of song the birds exultant shout.
And fairy beauty greets our dazzled sight.

2 26 Mountain, Meadow, and Mere

Each leaf of yellow, red, or brown is turned to gold,
And scattered ivy gleams like emerald.
As metal pieces fall, the leaves drop on the wold,
And waving rods of fire to heaven are held,
As branches catch the light against the awful gloom.
The cloud drops lower still : then falls the dark of
doom.

THE END.

BECCLES:

PRINTED BY WILLIAM MOORE AM) CO.,

CAXTON WORKS.

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