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_PHICE_JTWO  _SHILLIHO8. 


BY  W.  SENIOR 

(RED  SPINNER) 


LONDON:  GRANT  &  CO,  72  TO  IS.  HJRNMUJL  STREET.  E.S. 


BIRKILEY 

GENERAL 
LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY    OF 
CALIFORNIA 


THE  SPORTING  GALLERY 
AND  BOOKSHOP,  INC.  * 

No.  38,  East  12nd  St.,  New  Yor, 


p 


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No.  ± 

PRIVAfFTlBRARY. 


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PUBLIC   MEN 

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Ipswich  &  East  Suffolk. 

A  Series  of  Personal  Sketches. 
THE 

GENTLEMAN'S 

MAGAZINE. 

The  Edinburgh  Daily  Review  for  Dec.  14,  1874,  says: — "One  of 
the  phenomena  of  the  literary  year  has  been  the  resuscitation  of  the 
GENTLEMAN'S  MAGAZINE,  which,  owning  the  influence  of  rare 
ability  arid  energy  in  its  new  Editor,  Mr.  Richard  Gowing,  has,  in  a 
single  twelvemonth,  worked  its  way  up  from  well  nigh  the  lowest  place 
amongst  monthlies  to  one  in  the  highest  rank.  It  is,  gratifying  to  know 
that  the  public  have  not  been  slow  to  acknowledge  the  altered  class  of 
literary  fare  presented  by  that  Magazine,  and  that  the  circulation, 
which  has  been  steadily  mounting  throughout  the  year,  is  still  in- 
creasing in  quite  an  exhilarating  manner." 

London :  GRANT  &  CO.,  Turnmill  Street,  E.G. 


ALFRED    &    SON, 

RIPTION  OF  SUPERIOR 

&  Tackle 


MANUFACTURERS  OF  EVERY  DESCRIPTION  OF  SUPERIOR 


ALFRED'S  celebrated  Light  Cane  Punt-Rods  for  the  Thames. 

Long,  Light  Stiff  Rods  for  Bank-Fishing. 

Winches  in  Wood,  Brass,  Ebonite,  Electro-plate,  and  Silver. 

Tackle  Cases  furnished  in  great  Variety. 

Extra  Fine   Gut  Lines  and   Hooks.      Roach  Tackle  of  every 
Description. 

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Waterside 

Sketches. 

REPRINTED  FROM  THE  "GENTLEMAN'S  MAGAZINE." 

By  ¥.  SEIIOE  ("Red  Spinner"). 

"  '  Waterside  Sketches'  are  evidently  written  by  a  hand  by  no  means 
inexperienced  in  the  gentle  craft  of  Izaak  Walton."— Land  and  Water. 


London  :  GRANT  &  CO.,  Turnmill  Street,  E.G. 


WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 


"  HOOKED  FOUL."     (See  page  216). 


WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

A  Book  for  Wanderers  and  Anglers. 


BY 


W.  SENIOR  ("RED  SPINNER"), 

Author  of"  Notable  Shipwrecks" 


"Sporting  books,  when  they  are  not  filled  (as  they  need  never  be)  with  low 
slang  and  ugly  sketches  of  ugly  characters  .  .  .  form  an  integral  and  signifi- 
cant, and  in  my  eyes  an  honourable,  part  of  the  English  literature  of  this  day , 
and  therefore  all  shallowness,  vulgarity,  stupidity,  or  bookmaking  in  that  class 
must  be  as  severely  attacked  as  in  novels  and  poems." 

CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 


LONDON : 
GRANT  &  CO.,  72  TO  78,  TURNMILL  STREET,  E.G. 

1875- 
[ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED.] 


LONDON : 
GRANT   AND    CO.,    T'JUXTERS,    IURXMILL  STREET,    E.G. 


PREFACE. 


This  book  assumes  to  be  nothing  more  than  is 
implied  in  its  title.  The  sketches  do  not  even  pre- 
tend to  exhaust  the  topics  of  which  they  treat,  much 
less  to  include  all  the  subjects  which  might  be 
reasonably  looked  for  in  a  book  for  wanderers  and 
.anglers. 

Some  day,  if  the  success  of  the  present  volume 
should  warrant  the  undertaking,  a  second  series 
of  "Waterside  Sketches"  may  make  amends  for 
present  omissions. 

Most  of  the  chapters  in  this  book  originally  ap- 
peared in  the  Gentleman  s  Magazine,  but  they  are 
reprinted  with  numerous  additions.  The  story 
introduced  in  Chapter  X.  appeared  in  Tom  Hood's 
Comic  Annual  for  1874. 

W.  S. 
March  20,  1875. 


M816512 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  rAGE 

OUR   OPENING  DAY  .  .  .  .  I 

Practical  Notes  on  April  Fishing          .       16 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE  MAYFLY  .  .  .  .  1 8 

Practical  Notes  on  May  Fishing  .       33 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE  THAMES          .  .  .  .  36 

Practical  Notes  on  Roach,  Dace,  and 
Gudgeon  Fishing        .  .  .58 

CHAPTER  IV. 

A  HOLIDAY  IN  DEVONSHIRE        .  .  .62 

Practical  Notes  on  Devonshire  Fishing       84 
CHAPTER  Y. 

IN  THE   MIDLANDS  .  .  .  -87 

Practical  Notes  on  Bream,   Barbel,   and 
Chub  Fishing       .  .  .  .     1 1 1 

CHAPTER  VI. 

WHARFEDALE         .  .  .  .  .      115 

Practical  Notes  on  Grayling  Rivers         .     133 


viii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VII.  PA.GB 

THE  ANGLER  IN   IRELAND  .  .  .140 

Practical  Notes      .  .  .  .161 

CHAPTER  VIII.    . 

PIKE   FISHING         .  .  .  .  .164 

Practical  Notes       .  .  .  .184 

CHAPTER  IX. 

FRESH  AND   SALT  .  .  .      l8& 

Practical  Notes  on  the  Norfolk  Broads    .     206 
CHAPTER  X. 

HOOKED   FOUL       ...  .  2IO 

CHAPTER  XL 

UNLUCKY  DAYS   IN  WALES  .  .  .227 

Practical  Notes  on  Welsh  Waters  .     240 

CHAPTER  XII. 

OUR   CLOSING  DAY    ....  242 


WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

OUR    OPENING    DAY. 

"  Away  to  the  streamlet,  away,  away  ! 
The  Sun  is  up  in  his  realms  of  light. 
But  it  is  not  alone  from  his  captured  prey 
That  the  fisherman  wins  his  keen  delight. 
Ah  no !  'tis  the  breath  of  the  infant  day, 
'Tis  the  air  so  fresh  and  the  sky  so  bright  — 
In  these  is  the  fisherman's  best  delight." 

THAT  is  all  very  true  and  pretty,  but  I  am  still  inclined  to 
agree  with   the  late  Charles  Kingsley — one   of  the   best 


2  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

anglers  in  the  moorland  country  where  he  lived,  died,  and 
lies  buried,  loved  and  lamented  by  rich  and  poor — that  it  is 
best  to  say  nothing  about  the  poetry  of  sport.  "  I  can  see 
nothing  in  it,"  he  says,  "but  animal  excitement,  and  a 
certain  quantity,  I  suppose,  of  that  animal  cunning  which 
the  Red  Indian  possesses  in  common  with  the  wolf  and  the 
cat,  and  any  other  beast  of  prey.  As  a  fact,  the  majority  of 
sportsmen  are  of  the  most  unpoetical  type  of  manhood. 

For  most  of  them  it  is  sport  which  at  once  keeps 
alive  and  satisfies  what  you  would  call  .their  aesthetic 
faculties,  and  so — smile  if  you  will — helps  to  make  them 
purer,  simpler,  more  genial  men." 

Truly,  the  worthy  Hampshire  rector  delivered  these  senti- 
ments in  the  red  deer  country,  and  rather  in  reference  to 
the  huntsman  and  marksman  than  the  less  active  angler,  but 
never  was  truer  sentence  spoken  than  that  concluding 
remark  of  his  that  we  English  owe  too  much  to  our  field 
sports  to  talk  nonsense  about  them. 

Yet  if  any  sportsman  has  the  right  to  foster  sentimen- 
tality it  is  the  fisherman.  We  anglers  of  this  and  every 
other  period  have  been  charged  with  being  coxcombs,  fools, 
and  what  not ;  and  such  we  may  or  may  not  be.  I  don't 
mind  crying  "Peccavi,"  however,  to  one  accusation  made 
times  out  of  number  against  us  :  we  are  no  doubt  a  gossip- 
ing race,  and  all  we  can  plead  in  mitigation  of  sentence  is 
that  our  garrulity  is  at  least  harmless  ;  which  is  more  than 
some  gossipers  dare  aver. 

Come  with  me  for  an  hour  or  so  to  a  haunt  sacred  to 
fishermen's  gossip,  and  judge  for  yourself.  Following  the 
example  of  the  immortal  Izaak,  I  will  trouble  you,  as  we 
walk,  with  some  preliminary  prosing.  You  will  find,  thenr 


OUR  OPENING  DAY.  3 

that  angling  is  not  the  thing  it  was  when  Piscator  overtook 
Venator  and  Auceps  on  the  road  to  Ware ;  Auceps  on  his 
way  to  look  at  a  hawk  at  Theobald's,  Venator  to  join  in  an 
otter  hunt  at  Amwell,  and  Piscator,  the  avowed  brother  of 
the  angle,  to  pursue  his  gentle  art,  sitting  and  singing  under 
the  high  honeysuckle  hedge,  while  the  showers  fell  gently 
upon  the  teeming  earth,  and  gave  a  sweeter  smell  to  the 
lovely  flowers  that  adorned  the  verdant  meadow.  Hawking 
no  longer  takes  place  at  Theobald's  ;  there  is  no  necessity 
for  rising  before  the  sun  to  meet  the  otter  pack  on  Amwell 
Hill ;  and  the  times  are  gone  when  the  Hertfordshire  milk- 
woman  would  offer  the  passing  angler  a  syllabub  of  new 
verjuice,  a  draught  of  the  red-cow's  milk,  and  her  honest 
Maudlin's  sweetly  sung  song. 

The  modern  Waltonian,  nevertheless,  has,  on  the  whole, 
little  cause  to  grumble  at  the  change  which  has  come  about ; 
there  still  remain  pleasant  haunts  and  moderate  chances  of 
sport,  and  if  he  be  unable  to  kill  roach  at  London  Bridge 
and  fill  his  basket  within  an  hour's  walk  of  town,  increased 
facilities  by  rail  and  steamboat  bring  opportunities  within 
his  reach  never  before  enjoyed.  In  the  great  law  of  com- 
pensation upon  which  the  world  is  said  to  move  the  modern 
Waltonian  shares.  The  mines,  manufactories,  and  mills  do 
their  best  to  pollute  the  few  fish-breeding  rivers  that  are  left 
to  us  ;  but  there  is  a  keen  spirit  of  preservation  abroad,  and 
all  over  the  country  influential  associations  are  continually 
imitating  the  noble  example  set  them  by  the  Thames 
Angling  Preservation  Society. 

Taking  us  the  country  through  we  are  a  very  numerous 
body ;  year  by  year  additional  recruits  avow  their  conver- 
sion to  the  "  Contemplative  Man's  Recreation."  Some  of 


4  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

these  fine  days,  when  English  anglers  hold  a  grand 
Waltonian  fete  at  the  Crystal  Palace,  or,  being  nearer  the 
scene  of  Walton's  perambulations,  in  Alexandra  Park,  the 
world,  I  venture  to  say,  will  be  not  a  little  astonished  at  the 
numbers  who  will  take  part  in  the  demonstration.  Angling 
fraternities  with  various  names  and  mottoes  flourish  in  many 
a  town ;  aye,  in  the  most  dismal  and  poorest  quarters  of 
London's  City.  For  angling  literature  there  is  a  healthy 
and  perpetual  demand. 

The  town  fishing  club  somehow  is  treated  with  a  derision 
it  hardly  deserves  by  the  fortunate  gentleman  who  is  able  to 
kill  salmon  in  Norway  or  Ireland,  deer  in  Scotland,  and 
trout  in  Wales ;  its  members  are  regarded  with  contempt 
by  the  lordly  sportsman  who  would  faint  at  the  sight  of  a 
lobworm,  and  be  aghast  at  the  notion  of  ground-bait.  This 
is  neither  fair  nor  considerate.  The  city-pent  Cockney,, 
poor  fellow,  must  do  what  he  can,  and  the  shabby  appren- 
tice who  walks  from  Shoreditch  to  Tottenham,  bait-can  in- 
hand,  every  Sunday  morning,  and  is  content  with  such 
results  as  his  humble  rod  and  line  may  bring,  may  be  at 
heart — why  not  ? — as  true  a  sportsman  as  the  happy  indi- 
vidual who  goes  forth  with  a  couple  of  keepers  at  his  heels, 
and  the  costliest  tackle  and  finest  streams  at  his  command. 

But  a  truce  to  prosing,  at  least  for  the  present,  for  here  is 
the  Waltonian's  home.  You  may  see  that  we  are  a  very  united 
family,  and  not  ashamed  to  avow  ourselves  followers  of 
quaint,  pure-hearted  Izaak  Walton.  We  aim,  in  our  several 
ways,  to  emulate  his  spirit,  which  was  eminently  unselfish. 
We  are  unknown  to  the  world,  but  we  know  each  other, 
and  hold  as  a  primary  article  of  faith  that  the  man  who 
possesses  a  good  fishing-rod,  a  stout  walking-stick,  and  the 


OUR  OPENING  DAY.  5 

opportunities  and  means  of  using  both  in  moderation, 
ought  to  be  happy  and  healthy.  This  brotherhood  of  men 
who  love  the  gentle  art  with  unswerving  fidelity  includes 
persons  through  whose  estates  well-stocked  salmon-rivers 
sweep,  but  some  of  these  days  you  shall  see  them  enjoying 
with  the  keenest  relish  an  afternoon's  roach  or  gudgeon 
fishing  by  the  banks  of  a  prosaic  stream.  We  earn  our 
right  to  recreation  by  work  of  divers  kinds — on  Exchanges, 
in  Government  offices,  in  establishments  where  printing- 
presses  groan  and  struggle,  in  Westminster  Hall,  in  cham- 
bers; we  buy  and  sell,  we  toil  by  brain  and  hand,  we 
are  rich  and  poor,  we  are  old  and  young,  but  we  are 
not  ashamed  a  second  time  to  avow  ourselves  followers 
of  quaint,  pure-hearted  Izaak  Walton,  whose  nature  was 
eminently  unselfish. 

By  listening  quietly  awhile  you  will  discover  how  true 
it  is  that  we  are  a  gossiping  race ;  but  note  that  our  talk  is 
all  of  one  warp  and  woof.  This  is  the  hour  when  the 
smoking  rooms  of  clubs  where  politicians  and  the  great 
ones  of  the  earth  do  congregate  are  handling  freely  public 
and  private  scandals,  questions  of  national  pith  and  mo- 
ment, controversies  weighty  and  bitter.  Here  we  are  in 
the  town,  but  not  of  it.  We  are  bodily  present,  but  in 
spirit  far  away.  Possessing  in  common  a  devotion  to 
angling,  there  are  all  kinds  of  branch  fondnesses  by  which 
certain  men  are  known,  each  warranting,  however,  Wash- 
ington Irving's  observation,  "  There  is  certainly  something 
in  angling  that  tends  to  produce  a  gentleness  of  spirit  and 
a  pure  serenity  of  mind." 

There  is  not  a  man  present  to  whose  love  of  angling 
there  is  not  grafted  some  other  pleasant  pursuit  or  liking. 


6  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

Here  is  a  fern  lover  who  has  actually  been  known  to* 
miss  the  striking  of  a  fish  on  suddenly  espying  a  goodly 
specimen  of  his  favourite  plant.  To  another  the  pocket 
sketch-book  is  the  most  necessary  item  of  his  fishing 
kit;  his  friend  is  full  of  learning  as  to  forest  trees  and 
wild  flowers;  ornithology  is  a  common  acquirement  with 
the  majority.  I  could  point  you  to  one  who  captures 
more  butterflies  than  fish;  to  a  second  .whose  weakness 
lies  in  tadpoles,  newts,  and  snakes.  Out  of  the  fullness 
of  the  heart  the  mouths  speak,  producing  a  medley  of 
conversation  truly,  and  an  exchange  of  miscellaneous  ex- 
periences, but  no  ill-humour,  no  treason,  no  railing. 

It  is  the  last  night  in  March,  and  we  muster  in  force 
amongst  our  old  acquaintances,  the  trophies  encased 
around  the  walls.  How  we  fight  our  piscatorial  battles 
over  again  !  That  monster  pike  glares  as  if  he  were 
cognisant  of  the  story  re-told  of  his  folly  and  fall — how, 
greedily  grabbing  at  the  gudgeon  that  was  intended  for  a 
passing  perch,  he,  twenty-eight  pounder  though  he  was, 
was  struck,  played,  exhausted,  and  landed  with  a  single 
hook,  which  you  may  observe  coiled  up  in  the  corner 
of  the  museum,  to  his  everlasting  disgrace. 

The  eyes  of  our  old  friend  whose  prowess  amongst 
the  salmon  and  white  trout  is  a  proverb  at  Glendalough 
and  Ballina,  and  has  been  known  there  these  twenty 
years,  will  glisten  again  as  he  describes  the  history  of 
the  three  large  trout  overhead,  caught  in  three  casts 
within  a  space  of  thirty  minutes.  And  soon  a  patriarch 
takes  up  the  parable;  he  is  as  enthusiastic  at  three 
score  and  ten  as  he  was  when,  a  truant,  he  slew  small 
perch  near  Sadler's  Wells  Theatre,  and  he  will  set 


OUR  OPENING  DAY.  7 

us  in  a  roar  by  his  comic  recital  of  a  day's  bream 
fishing  on  one  of  the  Norfolk  Broads,  and  the  cowardly 
behaviour  of  the  flat  bellows-shaped  brute  in  the  com- 
partment next  but  one  to  the  sixty-three-ounce  perch. 

And  so  we  pass  the  time,  silently  overlooked  by  carefully 
preserved  tench,  carp,  barbel,  dace,  roach,  rudd,  and  pike, 
which  strangers  come  from  afar  to  admire,  and  which  recall 
many  a  pleasant  memory  to  be  fondly  lingered  over  and 
cherished;  and  smiled  upon  benignantly  by  the  ancient 
picture  of  a  wholesome  looking  old  man,  with  long  white 
hair,  smooth  face,  steeple  crowned  hat,  and  broad  white 
collar — the  man  who  is  father  of  us  all. 

To-morrow  a  small  party  are  bound  on  an  expedition  to 
the  waterside  according  to  annual  custom.  We  begin  our 
campaign  on  the  ist  of  April.  News  of  fish  feeding  and 
moving  has  arrived  by  express  to  gladden  our  hearts. 
Some  of  us  have  already  opened  our  fly-books  by  the  early 
streams  elsewhere,  and  are  hoping  to  do  gallant  deeds  with 
a  particularly  neat  March  brown  that  is  never  out  of  season. 
Others  have  been  busy  during  the  day  removing  rods  and 
tackle  from  their  winter  resting-places,  and  in  lovingly  pre- 
paring them  for  active  service. 

Do  you  smile  at  the  high  character  given  to  so  simple  an 
occupation  ?  Then  you  know  not  how  fertile  are  the 
sources  whence  spring  the  angler's  joys.  When  the  north 
winds  blow,  and  the  east  winds  bite,  and  the  yellow  floods 
overflow  the  spongy  banks,  and  the  fisher  is  a  prisoner  at 
home,  he  forgets,  in  overhauling  his  stock,  both  his  ill-luck 
and  the  unfriendly  elements.  He  sits  at  the  blurred  window 
with  his  scissors,  waxed  thread,  varnish,  feathers,  fur,  and 
wool  spread  out  before  him ;  he  tests  his  lines  and  casts, 


8  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

oils  his  winches,  and  resolves  himself  into  a  committee  of 
inquiry  respecting  the  joints  and  tops  of  his  rods,  which  he 
regards  as  companions  to  be  communed  with,  praised  for 
merits,  and  remonstrated  with  for  faults.  Rest  satisfied, 
therefore,  that  our  friends  who  to-day  have  brought  their 
implements  into  the  light  for  the  first  nirne  since  autumn 
have  set  about  their  task  in  the  spirit  of  no  common  or 
vulgar  ransackers. 

To-morrow  arrives  :  All  Fools'  Day,  as  we  pleasantly 
remind  each  other.  Happily  March  had  come  in  like  a 
lion,  or  rather  like  a  bellowing  bull,  and  had,  true  to 
tradition,  departed  like  a  lamb,  leaving  immediately  behind 
it  the  loveliest  of  spring  mornings.  Three  hours  before 
we  had  the  smoke  and  noise  of  London;  now  we  are 
surrounded  by  sights  and  sounds  that  make  us  glad  at 
the  mere  thought  of  life.  Our  veteran,  whose  rod  the 
keeper  is  carrying,  drinks  in  the  balmy  air  in  great  gulps, 
and  if  the  grass  were  a  trifle  less  wet,  would  frisk  it  merrily 
amongst  the  lambkins  in  the  mead.  The  birds,  still  in 
their  honeymoon,  make  unceasing  melody  in  the  hedges, 
and  you  can  hear  a  grand  responsive  chorus  away  in  the 
dark  wood,  from  whose  trees  the  grip  of  winter  has  just 
been  relaxed.  The  impudent  water  rats  evidently  hold  us 
in  supreme  contempt,  scarcely  deeming  it  necessary  to 
plunge  from  their  holes  and  perform  that  light-hearted 
somersault  which  so  often  startles  the  unsuspecting  rambler. 
There  is  life  and  the  promise  of  life  everywhere,  and  we 
revel  in  it,  and  feel  kindly  towards  all  mankind. 

Rods  are  put  together,  and  it  will  go  hard  with  not  a 
few  innocent  fish  if  the  eager  looks  of  certain  of  our 
band  carry  out  all  they  express.  April  clouds  are  scudding 


OUR  OPENING  DAY.  9 

softly  over  an  April  sky,  and  there  is  a  friendly  breeze  from 
the  west  ready  to  aid  the  angler.  The  river  runs  smooth 
and  deep  here,  but  a  little  space  ahead  it  tumbles  into  a 
noisy  weirpool,  boiling  and  fretting,  and  ejecting  from  its 
troubled  depths  an  occasional  weed  or  stick.  At  the  rear 
of  the  osier  bed  a  placid  backwater  winds,  and  here  one, 
two,  three,  and  four  of  our  brotherhood  are  settling  down  to 
a  few  hours'  special  correspondence  with  the  tench,  just 
now  in  their  prime,  and,  with  this  wind  and  water,  almost 
certain  to  be  off  their  guard. 

We  will  stroll  round  that  way  by-and-by.  But  en  passant 
I  would  advise  you  never  to  hurry  by  this  corner  with  your 
eyes  shut,  for  as  the  April  days  multiply  there  will  appear 
in  all  their  vernal  glory  a  host  of  marsh  flowers  and  plants. 
The  village  children,  romping  and  hallooing  in  the  distance, 
are  bound  for  the  copse  to  search  out  wood  anemones,  the 
woodruff,  the  wild  hyacinth,  lords  and  ladies,  strawberry 
blossoms,  primroses,  violets,  crane-bills,  and  (as  they  will 
call  them)  daffydowndillies ;  but  our  ruddy-faced  little 
friends  are  too  early  in  the  season,  and  will  meet  with  but 
a  portion  of  the  treasures  they  seek. 

Now  let  us  pause  at  the  weir,  and  watch  our  gay  young 
comrade  do  his  will  with  the  phantom  minnow.  If  he 
handle  his  papers  at  the  Circumlocution  Office  as  deftly  as 
his  spinning-rod  he  ought  speedily  to  reach  a  distinguished 
position  in  the  Civil  Service.  But  he  does  not  find  a  fish 
instanter,  nor  will  he  succeed  until  the  cast  places  his  bait 
in  command  of  the  furthest  eddy  and  scour.  This  our  gay 
young  comrade  in  due  time  neatly  accomplishes,  and  his 
reward  is  a  vicious  snap,  a  taut  line,  and  a  thrilling  rod. 

It  is  a  heavy  trout,  as  you  may  see  by  his  pull ;  a  lively 


i  o  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

trout,  from  the  speed  with  which  he  darts  round  and  across 
the  pool ;  an  artful  trout,  by  his  rush  for  the  shallows  ;  a 
beautiful  trout,  self-proclaimed  in  a  succession  of  leaps  into 
the  air,  during  which  the  sun  lights  up  his  ruby  spots  and 
burnished  vesture ;  a  princely  trout,  as  you  must  admit,  for 
the  keeper,  who  knows  that  the  first  fish  of  the  season  is 
always  an  extra  coin  in  his  pocket,  stands  by  with  the 
weighing  machine,  and  announces  him  a  few  ounces  short  of 
five  pounds.  He  is  a  goodly  fish,  yet  personally  I  hold  him 
in  light  respect,  being  convinced  that  nothing  would  ever 
induce  him  to  rise  at  a  fly.  We  have  been  long  familiar 
with  these  lusty  trout,  with  their  haunts,  their  vices,  their 
virtues,  their  dispositions.  Sometimes  they  take  a  clumsy 
dead  gorge  bait,  sometimes  a  live  roach,  or  gudgeon,  some- 
times minnow  or  worm,  but  never  a  fly,  artificial  or  real. 

This  straight  level  run  is  a  roach  swim,  famous  amongst 
us ;  by  these  fast-springing  flags  three  years  ago  a  young 
gentleman  who  had  never  seen  the  water  before,  and  was 
apparently  a  novice  in  the  craft,  in  one  afternoon  caught  a 
great  weight  of  roach,  four  individuals  of  which  turned  the 
scale  at  eight  pounds,  several  of  which  were  over  a  pound, 
and  none  of  which  were  less  than  six  ounces.  Presently 
we  reach  another  weir,  and  soon  a  third,  and  in  each  our 
gay  young  friend  will  before  night  seek  a  companion  for  the 
beauty  we  assisted,  a  few  minutes  since,  to  smother  in  newly 
cut  rushes. 

We  are  now,  let  me  whisper,  making  our  way  to  a  tribu- 
tary streamlet,  upon  whose  rippling  surface  the  flies  dangling 
over  my  shoulder  will  receive  their  first  baptism.  The 
brotherhood  have  various  tastes,  and  agree  to  differ  with 
perfect  good  humour.  Our  friends  at  the  backwater  are 


OUR  OPENING  DAY.  n 

not  unfriendly  to  me,  personally,  but  they  pity  my  weakness 
for  fly-fishing.  I  dote  on  our  victorious  young  comrade  of 
the  weir,  but  nothing  could  induce  me  to  toil  throughout  the 
live-long  day  spinning  for  a  brace  of  trout,  if  the  chance 
remained  for  me  of  a  dozen  troutlets  fairly  killed  with 
the  artificial  fly.  Each  man  to  his  liking,  and  good  luck  to- 
ns all :  that  is  our  motto. 

When  we  turn  out  of  the  next  meadow,  in  whose  trenches. 
a  few  weeks  hence  will  blow — 

"  The  faint  sweet  cuckoo  flowers," 
and  where — 

"  The  wild  marsh  marigold  shines  like  fire  in  swamps  and  hollows  grey," 
look  straight  at  the  rustic  bridge  spanning  the  ford,  and 
you  will  see  a  couple  of  fellows  lounging  upon  the  hand 
rail.  They  are  poaching  rascals  on  the  watch  for  the 
prowling  trout  that  push  up  from  the  wider  water  below 
to  chase  the  small  fry  on  the  shallows,  and  when  the  sun 
comes  that  way  it  would  be  worth  while  spiking  .your  rod 
into  the  coltsfoot-covered  bank,  lighting  another  cigar, 
creeping  stealthily  behind  the  willow  bushes,  and  watching 
the  actions  and  habits  of  the  fish.  Such  time  is  never 
thrown  away,  and  you  will  soon  discover  that  the  fish  are 
not  unworthy  of  your  inquiring  study.  As  to  the  hulking, 
scoundrels  beyond,  after  nightfall  there  will  be  a  splash 
and  a  struggle,  and  an  hour  later  the  poachers  will  pro- 
bably be  offering  a  couple  of  handsome  trout  for  sale  at 
some  village  pothouse. 

Across  a  bit  of  young  wheat,  down  a  lane  where  we 
could  find  a  posy  of  white  violets  if  we  had  the  leisure 
to  pluck  them  out  of  their  modest  retirement,  and  we 
reach  the  narrow  winding  streamlet  where,  fortune  favouring, 


1 2  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

us,  I  may  ply  the  fly  to  some  purpose.  But  what  with 
poaching,  the  increase  of  anglers,  and  vile  pollution  every- 
where, trout,  alas  !  except  in  very  remote  parts,  are  be- 
coming scarcer  and  scarcer  every  year,  and  it  requires  the 
utmost  skill  to  bring  the  fish  to  basket.  Unfortunately 
this  streamlet  is  poorly  stocked,  and  there  is  not  a  solitary 
tree  or  bush  to  cover  its  banks.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
water  is  neither  too  high  nor  too  low — an  inch  makes  a 
vast  difference  here — and  the  factory  above  has  been  good 
enough  not  to  pour  out  its  discolouring  refuse  to-day. 
But  I  must  creep  to  the  water  and  move  stealthily. 

As  it  is  a  small  stream,  of  course,  on  that  strange  law 
of  contraries  which  guides  the  angler  in  these  matters, 
full  sized  flies  must  be  employed — the  invaluable  March 
brown  as  stretcher,  the  cowdung  (considering  the  warm 
wind)  for  dropper  number  two,  and  the  blue  dun  number 
three.  You  cannot  detect  the  ghost  of  a  rise  anywhere, 
and  cast  after  cast  ends  in  the  same  monotonous  disap- 
pointment. Try  every  art  within  your  knowledge,  still  no 
success.  Put  on  the  stonefly  for  the  blue  dun ;  the  result 
is  the  same,  although  the  flies  fall  light  as  snowflakes  on 
the  ripple. 

At  last  I  have  carefully  covered  every  yard  of  the  short 
length  of  streamlet  at  our  disposal,  fishing  according  to 
orthodox  rules,  and — pardon  the  egotism — fishing  it  tho- 
roughly. I  am  too  much  accustomed  to  the  certain  un- 
certainties of  angling  to  be  disheartened,  although  it  must 
be  confessed  I  am  anxious  not  to  return  to  the  brother- 
hood empty-handed.  Now  let  me  be  unorthodox.  One 
of  the  lessons  I  was  taught  in  the  early  days  was  not  to 
use  a  red  spinner  till  May.  The  red  palmer  is  permissible 


OUR  OPENING  DAY.  13 

in  both  February  and  March,  and  often  very  killing :  and 
in  April  your  book  is  not  complete  without  both  brown 
and  grey  spinner;  but  the  red  spinner  by  very  many 
worthy  folks  is  not  regarded  as  appropriate  till  May.  In 
that  case  I  mean  to  anticipate  the  season  by  a  month, 
and  substitute  my  favourite  red  spinner  for  the  stonefly, 
which  has  been  unsuccessful.  The  cowdung-fly  must  re- 
main, for  that  insect  is  unmistakably  abroad,  circling  in 
the  wind  with  its  usual  activity.  The  March  brown  has 
been  so  firm  a  friend  that  I  seldom  discard  it,  early  or  later 
and  it  shall  not  be  discarded  now.  Still  something  must 
be  done. 

One  method  is  left  untried.  I  plump  down  upon  my 
bended  knees,  well  away  from  the  brink,  winch  up  the 
line  to  a  few  yards,  and  cast  close  under  the  opposite 
bank,  upon  it  if  possible,  and  rather  below  than  above. 
This,  too,  some  dogmatists  would  condemn  as  unorthodox  : 
but  is  not  the  proof  of  the  pudding  in  the  eating?  The 
flies,  sinking  somewhat,  are  borne  with  the  stream,  and 
I  am  keeping  my  eye  closely  upon  the  red  spinner,  which 
the  wind  dances  naturally  upon  the  surface,  and  which  it  is 
my  intention  to  work  slowly,  dibbing  fashion,  across  to  the 
hither  bank.  In  a  few  minutes  I  feel  a  trout,  and  I  want 
no  information  as  to  his  quality;  he  has  shot  athwart 
stream  with  a  deep  strong  pull,  and  bent  my  light  rod 
like  a  whip.  He  was  lying  almost  close  to  the  bank  on 
my  side  of  the  water,  and  never  broke  the  surface  in 
seizing  the  fly :  he  waited  until  the  red  spinner  dipped, 
and  then  in  a  business-like  way  closed  upon  him  once 
for  all. 

Twice  afterwards  my  attendant  has  the  pleasure  of  using 


1 4  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

the  landing  net,  but  only  with  the  normal  half-pounders  of 
the  stream.  Yet  we  are  quite  content  and  happy,  and 
stroll  lazily  back  to  the  brotherhood  with  clear  consciences. 

The  gay  young  comrade  it  seems  at  mid-day  has  found  a 
fitting  mate  for  his  captive  from  the  weir,  and  is,  as  we  pass, 
engaged  with  his  friends  and  the  keeper  in  a  vain  en- 
deavour to  rescue  his  spinning  flight  from  a  submerged 
tree  trunk.  We  comfort  him  with  the  assurance  that  the 
chances  are  twenty  to  one  in  favour  of  the  willow-wood 
holding  its  own.  Our  brethren  at  the  backwater,  com- 
fortable on  their  campstools,  with  many  an  empty  bottle 
upon  the  trodden  grass,  and  the  debris  of  a  heavy  luncheon 
at  their  feet,  have  had  the  premier  sport  of  the  day — 
measuring  sport  by  results.  The  tench  have  behaved 
themselves  in  a  freehearted  and  appreciative  manner,  and, 
save  that  they  manifested  an  unaccountable  dislike  to  one 
gentleman,  showed  no  preference  for  particular  anglers. 

Four  rods  have  been  constantly  at  work,  and  three  have 
been  constantly  taking  fish.  The  fourth  is  in  the  hands  of 
the  undoubtedly  best  angler  of  the  party,  and  he  uses  the 
finest  gut  and  hooks,  but,  to  his  chagrin  and  surprise,  while 
his  friends  have  caught  fish  whether  careful  or  careless,  he 
has  not  perceived  so  much  as  an  accidental  nibble.  Find- 
ing him  accordingly  in  a  despondent  frame  of  mind,  we 
cheer  him  with  such  cheap  comfort  as  we  can  find  at  a 
moment's  notice.  Even  as  we  speak  his  delicate  float 
trembles,  and  then  rises  slowly  and  mysteriously  until  it  lies 
flat  upon  the  sluggish  water.  Every  angler  knows  the  mean- 
ing of  that  welcome  token.  There  is  much  jubilation  over 
such  a  beginning,  and  we  feel  it  right  in  duty  bound  to 
drink  each  other's  health  in  a  flask  of  brown  sherry,  which 


OUR  OPENING  DAY.  15 

one  of  the  brotherhood — a  City  man  of  course — produces 
with  a  flourish. 

What  follows  aptly  illustrates  the  unexplainable  fancies 
of  the  fish  world.  For  an  hour  the  previously  unsuccessful 
fisherman  hauls  out  as  fast  as  he  can  bait  his  hook,  and  his 
three  friends,  who  had  been  pitying  him  for  hours,  are  now 
recipients  of  our  compassionate  regrets.  There  is  no  rhyme 
or  reason  for  this  sudden  whim  of  the  tench,  and  at  the 
termination  of  the  hour,  the  biting  ceases  as  suddenly  as  it 
began,  and  not  another  fish  is  brought  to  land. 

The  tench  had  taken  well-scoured  marsh  worms,  abso- 
lutely refusing  to  touch  either  striped  brandlings,  tempting 
lobs,  or  able-bodied  gentles,  and  it  was  noticed  as  a  curious 
circumstance  that  while  at  one  spot  the  bites  were  sharp 
and  vigorous,  the  float  disappearing  without  much  hesita- 
tion, a  few  yards  off  the  fish  dawdled  over  the  bait,  as  tench 
frequently  do,  leaving  the  angler  in  doubt  whether  the 
movement  of  the  float  was  not  a  mere  accident.  As  the 
bottom  was  muddy  rather  than  gravelly,  the  anglers  had 
naturally  fished  a  couple  of  inches  from  it,  and,  all  told, 
were,  on  quitting  the  field,  able  to  show  a  total  of  over 
twenty  pounds,  which,  for  so  capricious  a  fish  as  the  tench, 
may  be  considered  great  sport. 

Our  Opening  Day  we  deem  on  the  whole  all  that  could 
be  wished.  We  can  say  with  the  philosopher  "  Our  riches 
consist  in  the  fewness  of  our  wants."  If  we  can  boast  of  no 
.sensational  creels,  we  are  all  satisfied  and  at  peace  with 
each  other.  Hungry  as  hunters,  we  gather  in  the  eventide 
round  the  table  of  our  pleasant  room,  beneath  whose  bal- 
cony a  bye-stream  hurries,  mad  with  the  impetus  received 
from  a  weir  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  and  foaming  with  - 


1 6  WATERSIDE  SKEICHLS. 

anger  as  it  shoots  under  the  roadway.  Incidents  of  the  dayr 
trifling  in  themselves  perhaps,  and  bits  of  observation  and 
experience,  not  startling  or  profound  it  may  be,  are  ex- 
changed, while  the  clink  of  the  knife  and  fork  beats  time  to 
the  soothing  plash  and  flow  outside  the  window. 

And  so  our  Opening  Day,  like  all  other  days,  runs  to  its 
close,  and  to-morrow  we  shall  be  at  our  posts  in  the  busy 
spheres  of  the  big  city,  better  surely  rather  than  worse  for 
those  pleasant  hours  by  the  waterside  ? 


PRACTICAL  NOTES  ON  APRIL  FISHING. 

Trout  are  in  prime  season  in  April,  which  in  many 
rivers  is  the  angler's  most  remunerative  month.  It  is  also* 
not  the  least  pleasant,  since  the  world  of  beauty  towards 
its  close  begins  to  open  on  every  hand.  In  spite  of  its 
proverbial  showers,  trout  streams  are  on  an  average  in 
excellent  order  in  April,  being  neither  too  much  coloured 
nor  too  low.  Each  day  of  warm  weather  brings  out 
new  insects,  which  the  trout,  after  their  long  recess,  are 
fully  able  and  willing  to  appreciate.  In  the  matter  of 
flies,  though  it  is  well  to  understand  the  art  of  dressing 
them  oneself,  fly  manufacture  has  been  brought  to  such  a 
pitch  of  perfection  that  it  is  cheaper  and  more  convenient, 
as  a  rule,  to  trust  to  the  tackle  shops.  The  ordinary  trout 
in  April  has  a  good  deal  of  Cassius-like  leanness  about  it, 
and  is  very  different  in  colour  and  firmness  of  flesh,  to 
the  fellow  who  has  had  his  gorge  of  the  Mayfly. 

The  tench  may  not  be  the  physician  the  old  fishing, 
masters  believed  him  to  be,  nor  an  object  of  superstitious 
veneration  to  the  pike,  as  many  living  anglers  think,  but 


OUR  OPENING  DAY.  17 

he  is  a  much  better  subject  for  the  table  than  is  supposed. 
A  fat  tench  weighing  about  a  pound,  coming  as  it  does 
in  a  month  when  our  fresh  water  fishes  available  for 
the  table  are  very  limited  in  number,  is  excellent  eating, 
and  it  is  amazing  that  it  is  not  better  known  to  the  cook. 
The  fish  spawns  about,  but  seldom  before,  Midsummer, 
and  is,  if  river  bred,  most  delicate  eating  in  March  and 
April.  It  thrives  nowhere  so  well  as  in  the  ornamental 
lakes  of  private  grounds ;  on  a  hot  July  day  fish  of  from 
two  to  seven  or  eight  pounds  may  often  be  seen  floating 
near]  the  surface,  or  moving  uneasily  amongst  the  weeds 
under  which  they  spawn.  The  angler  for  tench  requires 
a  double  stock  of  patience ;  in  the  early  morning,  before 
the  hoar  frost  has  vanished  from  the  spring  grass,  rapid 
sport  may  be  sometimes  had  with  fine  tackle.  Later  in 
the  summer  in  warm  rains  and  on  cloudy  days  a  good  dish 
may  be  reasonably  expected,  and  it  may  as  a  rule  be 
held  that  large  worms  take  large  fish.  I  have  taken  tench 
with  plain  paste  while  fishing  for  roach,  but  this  was  doubt- 
less an  accidental  occurrence.  A  well-scoured  marsh  worm 
is  in  every  way  the  best  bait  for  tench ;  wasp-grub  is  also 
a  taking  lure.  The  cookery  books  prescribe  the  stew-pan 
for  this  fish ;  to  get  out  of  it  all  that  it  is  worth  there  is 
nothing  like  filleting ;  and  the  same  cleanly  method  of 
cooking  holds  good  with  almost  every  kind  of  fish.  The 
tench  is  often  spoiled  by  fancy  sauces  of  wine  and  other 
ingredients.  Tench  and  eel  skinned  and  boned,  in  a 
savoury  pie,  and  eaten  cold,  make  a  most  toothsome 
combination  for  the  breakfast  table.  Perhaps  the  quickest 
and  easiest  way  of  cooking  a  tench  is  to  split  and  fry  it 
thoroughly  brown. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  MAYFLY. 

•'  Fly  disporting  in  the  shade, 
Wert  thou  for  the  angler  made  ? 
To  grace  his  hook — is  this  thy  fate  ? 
An.d  be  some  greedy  fish's  bait  ? 

Fly  aloft  on  gladsome  wing ! 
See  one  comes  with  eager  spring, 
He'll  dip  thee  far  beneath  the  wave  : 
And  doom  thee  to  a  watery  grave." 

MAY  has  nearly  run  its  course.  We  have  an  ancient 
promise  that  the  seasons  shall  never  fail,  and  though  some- 
times our  variable  climate  makes  it  difficult  to  draw  a  hard- 
and-fast  line  between  summer  and  winter,  in  the  long  run 
you  may  be  sure  seed-time  and  harvest  come  round  in  very 
much  the  same  fashion  as  they  appeared  to  our  forefathers. 
I  pack  my  portmanteau  as  I  make  these  sage  reflections, 
and  am  grateful  that  the  spring  has  been  one  of  the  time- 
honoured  sort.  March  winds  prevailed  at  the  proper  time, 
the  April  showers  fell  soft,  and  the  May  flowers  bloomed 
without  delay.  And  there  has  arrived  a  letter  announcing 
the  advent  of  the  green  drake. 

Mayfly  fishing  is  not,  to  my  mind,  altogether  a  satisfac- 
tory style  of  angling,  yet  I  grieve  me  much  if  the  Mayfly 
season  pass  without  taking  advantage  of  it.  The  fish  are 
so  terribly  on  the  "  rampage  "  at  this  time  that  it  seems  like 
catching  them  at  a  mean  disadvantage.  The  silly  trout 


THE  MAYFLY.  19 

evidently  take  leave  of  their  senses  for  a  fortnight  or  so,  at 
the  close  of  May  or  beginning  of  June,  and,  of  all  ranks  and 
sizes,  lay  themselves  out  for  unlimited  gorge.  The  angler,, 
however,  places  himself  more  on  an  equality  with  his  game 
if  he  forswears  the  live  fly.  If  I  were  asked  for  my  advice 
I  should  say : — Seldom  use  any  but  the  artificial  Mayfly,  if 
you  would  live  with  a  clear  conscience ;  then  you  will  have 
the  additional  gratification  of  knowing  that  the  special 
difficulty  experienced  in  producing  a  really  good  imitation 
is  a  slight  set-off  against  the  greediness  of  the  trout  at  the 
Mayfly  period. 

Cotton,  who  even  in  these  times  of  increasing  piscatorial 
wisdom  and  research  very  well  holds  his  own  as  an  authority 
on  fly-fishing,  speaks  of  Mayflies  as  the  "matadores  for 
trout  and  grayling,"  and  he  adds  that  they  kill  more  fish 
than  all  the  rest,  past  and  to  come,  in  the  whole  year 
besides.  It  should  be  remembered  that  Cotton  was  then 
writing  of  the  picturesque  Dove,  not  so  superbly  stocked 
with  trout  and  grayling  now  as  it  was  in  his  days,  but  still  as 
limpid  and  romantic  as  when  Piscator  welcomed  his  disciple 
to  the  Vale  of  Ashbourn  with — "  What  ho !  bring  us  a 
flagon  of  your  best  ale  " — the  good  Derbyshire  ale  which 
Viator  had  the  sense  to  prefer,  scouting  the  idea  that  a  man 
should  come  from  London  to  drink  wine  at  the  Peak. 

As  a  rule — and  there  are  not  many  exceptions  to  it — the 
flies  that  suit  one  river  fail  on  another ;  but  the  Mayfly  is 
the  touch  of  nature  which  makes  most  rivers  kin.  With 
some  allowance  for  difference  of  size,  your  Mayfly  will 
answer  on  any  stream,  or  on  lake  and  stream,  during  the 
few  days  in  which  the  green  and  grey  drakes  make  the  most 
of  their  chequered  existence.  What  Cotton  wrote  of  the 

C  2 


20  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

Dove  will  therefore  apply  to  streams  that  in  no  other  respect 
could  be  compared  with  it. 

It  is  not  the  Dove  to  which  I  am  bound.  My  stream  is 
not  half  so  well  known  either  to  anglers  or  to  the  non- 
angling  world.  It  has  a  name  nevertheless,  and  appears 
accurately  marked  upon  the  Ordnance  Map.  Let  us  for 
convenience  sake  call  it  the  Brawl.  In  most  instances  you 
will  not  err  greatly  in  disliking  the  fisherman  who  refuses  to 
tell  his  brother  where  to  find  sport.  It  is  true,  necessity 
has  no  law,  and  the  necessity  is  often  laid  upon  one,  sadly 
against  his  will,  of  withholding  information  which  might  be 
of  service  to  a  brother  angler.  He  may  be  the  best  and 
most  generous  hearted  fellow  in  the  world,  but  he  may  lack 
that  essential  backbone  of  wisdom,  discretion. 

A  few  years  ago  a  north  country  nobleman  generously  gave 
ordinarily  decent  persons  leave  to  fish  a  well-stocked  pike 
water — a  privilege  which  many  used  and  enjoyed.  One  day 
the  pike  were  "  on  the  move/'  as  the  saying  goes,  and  two 
tradesmen  who  had  secured  the  required  permission  were 
able  by  a  liberal  employment  of  live  bait  to  row  ashore  at 
night  with  nearly  two  hundredweight  of  slain  fish.  Worse 
than  that,  a  local  paper  made  the  achievement  the  subject 
of  high  eulogium,  and  congratulated  "  our  worthy  townsmen  " 
on  their  prowess.  What  was  the  result  ?  The  noble  owner 
himself  assured  me  he  received  two  hundred  and  forty 
applications  in  three  weeks,  and  that  he  would  never  more 
allow  other  than  personal  friends  to  cast  line  into  the  water. 
And  he  has  kept  his  word. 

Therefore  the  stream  now  in  question  shall  be  named  the 

Brawl,  and  I  give  fair  warning  that  the  rest  of  my  nomen- 

lature   in   this   chapter  is   also   drawn   from   the    source 


THE  MAYFLY.  21 

whence  a  member  of  Parliament  was  accused  of  drawing 
his  facts — namely,  the  imagination.  There  is  no  objection 
to  your  knowing  that  the  spot  is  not  far  from  the  cradle  of 
the  queenly  Thames  ;  so  near,  in  fact,  that  you  may  almost 
hear  the  first  babblings  of  the  infant  river.  Green  hills 
stand  in  rich  undulations  of  pasture  high  above  the  surround- 
ing country,  giving  to  the  sheep  grazing  on  the  luscious 
downs  a  name  that  is  distinctive  and  far  known.  The 
Brawl  does  not  rise,  as  many  streams  do,  through  the  silver- 
sanded  floor  of  a  bubbling  spring  sequestered  in  the  dell, 
but  it  spurts  sharply  out  of  a  hillside,  and  commences  its 
course,  as  it  were,  with  a  grand  flourish  of  trumpets  and 
waving  of  flags.  Tennyson  might  have  had  the  Brawl  (but 
of  course  had  not)  in  his  mind's  eye  when  he  wrote  "  The 
Brook."  The  forget-me-nots  are  there,  and  the  cresses, 
and  the  shallows,  and  the  windings,  and  all  the  melody 
which  tinkles  in  the  Poet-Laureate's  exquisite  song. 

When  a  man  travels  the  best  part  of  a  hundred  miles 
for  one  day's  amusement  he  is  generally  prepared  to  crowd 
as  much  work  into  that  day  as  human  possibilities  allow. 
How  fresh  the  country  looks  in  its  May  garment  of  many 
colours,  and  how  majestically  the  sun  rolls  behind  the  great 
hills  towards  which  I  am  rattling  in  the  ravenous  express ! 
As  if  the  landscape  is  not  already  gay  enough  with  its 
foliage  and  flowers,  the  sun  clasps  it  in  a  parting  em- 
brace, and  at  the  touch  it  becomes  radiant  and  rosy  and 
soft. 

The  village  is  hushed  in  repose  by  the  time  I  am  left, 
the  only  passenger,  on  the  rude  platform,  and  the  ancient 
churchyard  is  wrapped  in  shadow  that  becomes  weird  and 
black  in  the  avenue  of  cypress  and  yew.  The  bats  wheel 


2  2  WA  TENS  IDE  SKETCHES. 

hither  and  thither  over  the  housetops,  and  beetles  drone  as 
they  fly.  The  last  roysterer — he  is  sober  as  a  judge,  and  it 
is  but  ten  o'clock — is  leaving  the  Hare  and  Hounds  at  the 
moment  I  lift  the  latch  to  enter.  The  landlord  eyes  my 
rod  and  basket,  and  glances  sidelong  at  me  during  supper 
time.  Seemingly  his  thoughts  are  sworn  in  as  a  common 
jury  trying  my  case,  and  the  verdict  appears  to  be  in  my 
favour.  I  begin  bargaining  with  him  for  a  waggonnette 
to-morrow,  and  he  takes  an  interest  in  my  doings,  hopes 
I  shall  have  a  fine  day,  good  sport,  and  plenty  of  it. 

Lastly,  rfe  informs  me  that  he  himself  is  a  rodster,  and 
proprietor  of  a  willow  bed  through  which  runs  about  two 
hundred  yards  of  the  Brawl,  and  that  if  I  would  like  to  try 
my  casts  upon  it  in  the  morning  before  starting  up  the 
country  I  am  welcome  so  to  do.  He  does  not  give  this 
privilege  to  every  one,  he  says,  and  could  not  if  he  would, 
since  he  has  let  the  right  of  fishing  to  an  old  gentleman 
living  on  the  spot,  reserving  to  himself  the  power  which  he 
now  offers  to  exercise  in  my  favour.  The  programme  for 
to-morrow  includes  a  small  lake  across  country,  and  then  a 
drive  of  six  miles  into  the  uplands  to  where  the  newly-born 
Brawl  turns  its  first  mill-wheel.  Still,  no  reasonable  offer 
or  likely  chance  should  be  refused,  and  the  landlord's 
kindness  is  accepted  with  thanks. 

Before  the  lark  is  fairly  astir  next  morning  I  am  being 
brushed  by  the  dew-charged  branches  of  the  trees  in  the 
landlord's  willow  bed.  The  tenant,  the  old  gentleman 
previously  spoken  of,  is  known  to  the  world  as  "the 
General."  He  was  a  sergeant  of  dragoons  in  his  younger 
days,  and  now  in  the  evening  of  life  lives  in  a  honey- 
suckled  cottage  overlooking  the  bit  of  animated  stream  in 


THE  MAYFLY.  23 

which  he  finds  so  much  amusement.  Perhaps  if  I  had 
known  this  earlier  I  should  not  now  be  trespassing  upon 
his  preserves.  Quite  Arcadian  the  place  must  be ;  his 
rods,  used  beyond  doubt  last  evening,  he  has  left  by  the 
river,  and  they  lie  without  attempt  at  concealment  on  the 
•  wet  grass. 

It  is  a  very  likely  locality  for  a  good  trout,  and  circum- 
scribed as  the  bounds  are,  there  are  deeps,  eddies,  and 
scours  in  excellent  condition.  More  by  way  of  wetting  the 
line  than  anything  else,  I  cast  up  towards  a  sweeping 
.-shallow,  around  whose  edge  the  pure  silver-streaked  water 
swirls  sharply,  and  at  the  second  throw  rise,  and,  I  am  free 
to  confess,  to  my  surprise  hook  a  fish.  The  accident 
being  attributed  by  the  landlord  to  masterly  skill,  he  stands 
by  admiringly  and  excitedly  with  the  net.  The  trout,  how- 
ever, is  in  no  hurry,  and  runs  straight  into  a  forest  of 
weeds,  from  which  it  seems  impossible  to  extricate  him 
without  loss  of  tackle  and  time.  The  landlord  rushing 
to  the  cottage  for  a  pole  brings  with  him  "the  General," 
half  dressed,  and  in  a  pitiable  state  of  alarm  and  anxiety. 
Almost  with  tears  and  in  broken  accents  he  says  : 

"I've  been  working  three  days  for  that  fish,  sir,  early 
.and  late;  he  rose  once  yesterday,  and  twice  the  day 
iDefore." 

Poor  old  General !  I  feel  sorry  indeed,  but  sorrow 
cannot  undo  the  unconscious  wrong  I  have  perpetrated ! 
After  tremendous  exertions  with  a  pole  and  hay-rake  we 
loosen  the  tangled  weeds,  and  the  trout  comes  in  on  his 
•side,  not  the  patriarch  we  had  supposed,  but  a  burly  little 
fellow  nearly  as  large  as  a  Yarmouth  bloater.  Then  "  the 
'General"  rejoices,  and  I  too  rejoice  on  hearing  that  "that 


24  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

fish"  which  has  been  tantalising  him  all  the  year  is  still 
left  to  tantalise  him  again. 

"  The  General "  begs  me  to  remain  for  five  minutes,  and 
disappears.  In  his  absence  I  notice  that  he  has  been 
using  the  live  drake,  the  dead  fly,  a  humble  bee,  and  a 
worm.  Those  baits  remain  transfixed  as  he  left  them  last 
evening,  and  admirably  do  they  conceal  the  hooks.  Now 
he  reappears  with  a  ruddy-faced  girl,  his  daughter,  who 
having,  by  my  gracious  leave,  studied  the  artificial  fly 
which  has  proved  so  effectual,  thanks  me  with  a  smile 
which  breaks  upon  her  countenance  like  the  rise  of  a  tran- 
quil trout,  and  hurries  back  into  the  cottage  to  manufacture 
an  article  exactly  like  mine. 

Sir  Melton  Mowbray  did  not  hesitate  to  grant  me  a  day's 
fishing  in  his  park  when  I  met  him  in  the  lobby  a  month 
previously.  I  had  rescued  him  from  a  deputation  of 
farmers  and  churchwardens  who  were  worrying  him  about 
some  highway  business,  and  I  am  sure  he  was  grateful  to 
me  for  the  service.  I,  on  my  part,  was  equally  grateful  to 
him  when  he  added  that  I  might  with  surety  anticipate 
some  sort  of  sport,  inasmuch  as  his  lake  had  not  been 
fished  (to  his  knowledge)  for  three  years. 

It  being  now  the  Whitsun  recess  Sir  Melton  is  at  home, 
and  receives  me  in  a  charming  country  house  in  the  midst 
of  an  old-fashioned  park  laid  out  in  some  parts  to  resemble 
the  best  features  of  a  natural  woodland.  Not  fifty  yards 
from  the  lawn  I  notice  a  hawk  on  the  wing,  and  the  rookery 
overhead  is  a  Babel.  The  aged  trees  have  been  respected, 
and  their  picturesqueness,  as  I  make  bold  to  tell  the  baronet, 
is  worth  more  to  him  than  the  felled  timber.  Wild  flowers 
bloom  upon  the  banks,  and  bramble  and  fern  and  bracken 


THE  MAYFLY.  25 

have  not  been  removed  if  their  presence  suits  the  surround- 
ings. The  consequence  of  this  is  that  Mowbray  Park 
furnishes  a  perfect  example  of  what  Nature,  assisted  but 
not  stamped  out  by  Art,  can  do. 

The  lake  is  not  large,  but  it  is  deep,  and  graced  by 
numerous  trees  down  to  the  water-edge  along  seven-eighths 
of  its  margin.  Sir  Melton  Mowbray,  introducing  me  to  the 
water,  wishes  me  luck,  places  a  gardener's  boy  at  my  dis- 
posal, and  goes  back  to  his  Blue-books.  The  only  way  of 
fishing  the  lake  is  from  a  boat,  and  boat  there  is  none. 
There  is  instead  an  overgrown  square  washing-tub,  used  by  the 
boy  for  fetching  duck's  eggs  from  a  little  island  in  the  centre. 
You  do  not  dare  to  stand  upright  in  this  remarkable  speci- 
men of  naval  architecture,  but  you  may  sit  on  a  rail  nailed 
across,  and  must  balance  yourself  to  a  hair  if  you  would 
avoid  a  capsize.  Having  procured  a  pole,  I  punt  to  the  end 
from  which  the  wind  comes,  and  it  is  fortunate  that  it  blows 
steadily,  and  not  too  strongly.  Then  I  deliver  myself  and 
fortunes  to  the  will  of  the  breezes. 

Though  I  have  been  apprised  that  the  Mayfly  is  out  in 
unheard-of  quantities,  I  can  see  none.  Smaller  insects  are 
on  the  wing,  but  in  spite  of  the  rushes  around  the  edges, 
and  a  thickly  wooded  ravine  through  which  a  tributary  brook 
runs  into  the  lake,  the  drakes  are  conspicuous  by  their 
absence.  It  is  a  game  of  patience,  then,  in  which  I  have  to 
engage.  I  am  aware  that  the  Mayfly  is  quite  as  capricious 
as  the  rest  of  the  insect  creation,  and  disappears  suddenly 
and  mysteriously,  without  any  apparent  cause.  In  angling, 
too,  it  is  safe  never  to  take  anything  for  granted.  At  the 
same  time  it  is  with  just  a  modicum  of  faith  that  I  tie  on  a 
most  elegantly  made  fly  of  medium  size.  The  fish,  I  find, 


26  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

as  I  drift  and  whip,  are  very  lively,  and  I  get  excellent  sport 
for  the  space  of  an  hour ;  and  the  trout  are  all  within  an 
ounce  of  the  same  size,  each  being  about  a  pound  and  a 
quarter  in  weight. 

This  is  a  trifle  strange,  but  so  it  is.  A  dozen  and  one  of 
them  lie  in  my  basket,  thickset  fish ;  much  yellower  in  colour, 
however,  than  I  care  to  see,  and  as  like  as  peas.  It  does 
not  require  very  careful  fishing  to  get  them,  for  the  wind 
assists  you  in  the  casts,  and  the  trout  take  the  Mayfly  boldly 
the  moment  it  touches  the  rippled  surface,  or  not  at  all. 

The  wind  drops,  and  the  sun,  letting  a  searching  daylight 
into  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  reveals  all  its  pretty  traceried 
labyrinth  of  aquatic  vegetation.  Deep  down,  cosy 
amongst  the  weeds,  I  descry  shoals  of  perch,  and  now  I  am 
no  longer  puzzled.  In  the  mud  no  doubt  there  are  eels 
.also,  and  perch  and  eels,  it  is  well  known,  give  the  spawn 
.and  fry  of  trout  little  chance.  There  being,  as  I  conclude, 
few  small  trout  in  the  lake,  the  heaviest  fish  have  very  likely 
fallen  to  my  share.  On  the  whole  I  have  done  passing  well 
for  so  brief  a  time,  but  sport  wholly  ceases  when  the  calm 
comes.  The  fish,  however,  are  leaping  on  every  hand, 
whereas  before,  when  the  remunerative  fun  was  fast  and 
furious,  not  a  rise  was  to  be  seen.  But  every  trout  angler  is 
aware  that  those  frivolous  splashes  which  make  most  noise 
and  commotion  are  ominous  signs — another  illustration,  in 
a  word,  of  the  adage  "  Great  cry  and  little  wool." 

Until  now  I  have  frequently  heard  of  perch  taking  the  fly. 
Without  going  so  far  as  to  say  I  was  incredulous  on  the  point, 
I  may  here  confess  that  I  would  not  believe  it  except  from 
authentic  information.  But  there  is  no  length  of  impu- 
dence to  which  a  hungry  perch  will  not  go  ;  and  a  humorous 


THE  MAYFLY.  27 

angler  in  the  far  west  of  Ireland  once  told  me  that  the  perch 
of  Lough  Corrib  were,  the  moment  your  back  was  turned, 
in  the  habit  of  climbing  up  the  banks,  stealing  a  worm  from 
the  bag,  and  slinking  again  into  the  water  to  devour  it  at 
leisure.  That  may  not  have  been  true,  but  it  was  his  story, 
and  in  return  for  it  I  gave  him  an  appreciative  laugh,  and  a 
pipe  of  tobacco. 

These  urchin  perch  to-day,  however,  rise  madly  at  my 
Mayfly.  I  am  whipping  carelessly  right  and  left  as  the 
wind  wafts  me  towards  the  shore,  and  from  a  shallow  part 
where  the  weeds  are  not  two  inches  under  water  I  decoy 
something  which  comes  with  a  bang,  and  that  something  to 
my  amazement  is  a  perch.  For  the  fun  of  the  thing,  and 
to  thin  out  the  undesirable  companions  of  the  trout,  I  lessen 
the  number  by  a  couple  of  dozen.  The  body  of  the  fly 
looks  like  a  fat  caddis  worm,  and  I  put  the  folly  of  the 
perch  down  to  that  score,  but  adding  a  red  spinner  to  test 
the  matter,  they  still  come  and  pursue  both  lures  close  to 
the  punt.  The  teeth  of  the  game  little  zebras  of  the  water 
do  not  improve  my  Mayfly.  The  imposing  feathers  become 
ragged,  then  as  perch  after  perch  is  caught  the  gauzy  wings 
and  long  tail  vanish,  and  finally  there  is  nothing  left  but  the 
half  yellow  half  buff  body,  wrapped  round  with  brown  silk 
ribbing  frayed  and  torn.  This  is  a  serious  loss  when,  as  I 
have  discovered  too  late,  there  are  but  three  Mayflies  left 
in  the  book. 

Sir  Melton  Mowbray  at  lunch  promises  to  take  my  advice, 
buy  a  net,  and  remove  the  perch ;  and,  beholding  my  good 
fortune,  he  betrays  a  sudden  interest  in  the  sport  of  angling, 
and  carefully  copies  the  address  of  the  best  tackle  shop  I 
can  recommend.  But  the  hon.  baronet  must  build  a  proper 


2  3  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

boat  before  he  begins,  for  the  rickety  washing  tub  was 
never  intended  to  carry  fifteen  stone,  and  he  himself  con- 
fesses— and  his  park-hack  would  not  contradict  him — to 
that  modest  weight.  I  bid  him  good  morning,  and  ter- 
minate my  flying — might  I  not  say  Mayflying  ? — visit  to 
Mowbray  Park,  not  directly  coveting  my  neighbour's  goods, 
but  perhaps  resolving  to  think  once,  twice,  aye,  and  even 
thrice,  before  refusing,  should  Sir  Melton  ever  take  it  into 
his  head  to  offer  the  place  to  me  as  a  gift. 

The  sun  smites  fiercely  upon  us  on  our  way  to  Brawl 
Mill.  The  road  lies  over  a  stiff  hill  country,  and  the  valley 
of  the  Brawl  is  far  beneath  us,  a  lovely  panorama  of  English 
scenery.  The  stream  meanders  through  its  course,  a  mere 
thread  of  silver  from  this  distance.  Two  gentlemen,  with 
a  keeper  in  the  rear,  are  whipping  away,  now  and  then 
resting  to  mop  the  perspiration  from  their  foreheads,  and 
appearing  to  us  from  our  elevation  no  bigger  than  the  Shem, 
Ham,  and  Japhet  of  a  Lowther  Arcade  Noah's  Ark.  The 
driver  knows  them  to  be  both  peers  of  the  realm ;  one  of 
them  owns  the  estate,  and  is  a  man  of  note  in  the  racing 
world. 

Every  year  at  the  first  appearance  of  the  Mayfly  his 
lordship  is  telegraphed  for  wherever  he  may  be,  and  the 
earliest  train  brings  him  and  a  companion  or  two  to  the 
nearest  station.  They  take  quarters  at  a  roadside  inn 
(where  we  halt  to  water  our  reeking  horse)  and  remain  there 
until  the  fly  has  gone,  enjoying  the  sandy  floor,  the  flitches 
of  bacon  on  the  rafters,  the  bunches  of  lavender  in  the 
drawers,  and  the  fragrant  snow-white  bed  linen.  The  only 
member  of  the  party  who  seems  put  out  by  a  temporary 
residence  at  this  rural  hostelry  is  the  earl's  valet  de  chambre  : 


THE  MAYFLY.  29 

Mons.  Adolphe  has,  I  regret  to  state,  taught  the  rustics  the 
use  of  the  word  sacre,  and  saturates  himself  with  eau  de 
Cologne  night  and  day,  that  he  may  not  be  polluted  by  the 
hinds  and  dairymaids  about  him. 

Brawl  Mill  might  be  a  bodily  transfer  from  Switzerland, 
nestling  there  as  it  does  in  the  silent  hollow,  with  a  slope  of 
dark  pines  rising  straight  from  its  little  garden  on  the  hill- 
side, with  its  drowsy  old  water-wheel,  with  its  farmyard 
poultry  and  pigeons,  with  its  wide  porch  smothered  in  roses, 
with  its  wooden  loft  steps,  grey  granary,  and  primitive  out- 
houses. It  is  shut  out  from  the  turmoil  of  the  world ;  not 
another  human  habitation  is  visible  from  the  higher  garden. 
It  possesses  two  gardens — the  first  gained  by  ascending  a 
flight  of  ashen  steps  above  the  mill ;  the  second  reached 
by  similar  means  to  where,  below  the  house,  the  stream, 
after  being  released  from  the  mill,  tumbles  over  a  fall. 

Farther  down  the  Brawl  deserves  the  name  I  have  be- 
stowed upon  it :  it  ripples  and  complains,  it  frets  and 
hurries  away  to  find  its  level  in  a  water-mead  beyond. 
Above  the  mill  the  stream  is  wide  and  placid,  as  if  con- 
scious of  its  usefulness  in  feeding  the  hatches  communicating 
with  the  mill,  and  desirous  of  sticking  to  its  post  of  duty  to 
the  last.  A  bank  of  impenetrable  weed,  filling  half  of  the 
river  bed,  affords  hiding-place  for  the  trout,  albeit  it  compels 
you  to  bring  all  your  strength  and  ability  into  play  to  send 
your  fly  freely  and  gently  across  the  stream ;  and  a  morass 
of  rushes  adds  to  the  difficulty.  The  water  is  too  clear,  the 
sun  is  too  bright;  the  fishable  spaces  do  not  give  sign  of  a 
fin,  and  the  flies  alight  and  float  down  unnoticed.  A 
stranger  would  not  hesitate  to  pronounce  the  river  untenantcd 
as  an  empty  house. 


30  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

Ladies  greet  us  here.  I  never  yet  knew  the  angler  who 
regretted  their  society  by  the  riverside,  and  there  is  one 
sauntering  up  the  lane  who  has  herself  graduated  with  credit 
in  bank-fishing.  They  have  been  rambling,  and  the  children- 
gleefully  display  the  flowers  they  have  gathered.  Little 
Rosebud  asks  me  to  accompany  her  a  field  or  two  down 
the  stream  to  pluck  the  forget-me-nots  her  small  arm  cannot 
reach.  These  sunburnt  folks  are  spending  their  holiday  at 
the  old  mill-house,  and  have  much  to  tell  me  of  bird,  and 
beast,  and  fish. 

Little  Rosebud,  let  me  inform  you,  has  often  aforetime 
been  my  companion  at  the  waterside.  She  can  distinguish 
a  roach  from  a  dace,  and  a  trout  from  a  pike,  should  the 
pike  happen  to  be  large  enough,  and  she  will  trot  along, 
proud  as  a  queen  if  allowed  to  carry  the  landing  net.  So,, 
yielding  to  the  fair-haired  tempter,  I  lay  aside  my  rod,  and 
stroll  lazily  along  on  the  banks  of  the  Brawl,  inwardly 
making  observations  to  guide  me  in  the  evening's  fishing. 
Little  Rosebud,  it  seems,  has  seen  a  kingfisher,  and  last 
night  she  heard  an  owl  hooting  in  the  pine-wood.  A 
prostrate  trunk  invites  us  to  spend  an  idle  half-hour  in  a 
sweet  natural  bower,  from  which  we  can  command  a  capital 
view  of  one  of  the  best  bends  of  the  stream.  It  is  the  2Qth 
of  May,  and  it  is  only  meet  and  fit  that  the  shadows  over- 
head should  come  from  the  branches  of  the  tender-leaved 
oak.  Little  Rosebud,  flushed  in  the  hedge-row  out  of  the 
heat,  sits  crowned  with  flowers,  clapping  her  hands  at  the 
large  sportive  Mayflies  on  the  water.  She  thus  receives 
her  first  lesson  in  entomology,  and  hears  the  story  of  the 
nautilus,  which  the  insects  are  imitating.  They  fall  on  the 
water  light  as  snowflakes,  spread  out  their  wings  like  sails, 


THE  MAYFLY.  3, 

and  run  free  before  the  wind  or  gracefully  tack,  as  it  may 
please  them.  Little  Rosebud  claps  her  hands  at  the 
furious  leaps  of  the  trout,  and  shouts  with  very  joy  when 
the  fly,  after  skimming  daintily  along  the  surface,  and 
dallying  with  doom,  takes  wing  once  more  and  escapes 
scot-free. 

But  let  us  pass  on.  We  will  dwell  no  longer  on  this 
remembrance  of  a  happy  day;  but  should  I  live  to  the 
extremest  span  of  human  years,  whenever  the  Mayfly  ap- 
pears in  its  season,  the  picture  of  little  Rosebud  in  the 
shade,  following  the  airy  flights  of  the  heedless  insects, 
now  up,  now  down,  with  her  dancing  eyes,  will  be  ever 
before  me,  for  little  Rosebud,  alas,  alas,  needs  no  more  to 
sit  in  the  hedgerow  out  of  the  heat. 

The  evening  fishing  repays  me  for  the  idle  hour,  and,  to 
be  honest,  I  meet  with  far  more  good  fortune  than  I  de- 
serve. Above  the  mill,  by  the  hatches,  the  placid  current, 
when  the  day  declines,  is  troubled  with  the  movements  of 
many  trout.  They  appear  to  make  no  distinction  between 
the  insects  that  touch  it.  Drake  or  moth  shares  the  same 
fate.  My  artificial  Mayfly  is  quite  as  good  as  the  plumpest 
reality.  The  ladies  hover  round,  observing  that  fly-fishing 
is  a  most  gentlemanly  pastime,  and  that  a  trout  is  entitled 
to  special  consideration  as  one  of  the  upper  ten  of  the 
finny  tribes.  I  strike  an  attitude  and  resolve  to  treat  my 
audience  to  something  artistic.  I  dry  the  fly :  one,  two,, 
three,  and  then  for  a  cast  that  shall  win  a  compliment  and 
a  fish.  The  great  wings  float  trembling  down  to  the  verge  of 

an  eddy,  and  lo  !  a  plunge  and Alack,  the  cast  rebounds 

with  no  fly  at  its  extremity.     I  have  by  sheer  stupidity  lost 
both  my  compliment  and  my  fish ;  it  is  the  usual  result  of 


32  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

trying  for  too  much,  and  the  pinch  of  the  mishap  is  that  it 
has  reduced  my  stock  of  Mayflies  to  a  solitary  specimen, 
\vith  yet  another  hour  of  daylight. 

That  unfortunate  trout  will  be  telegraphing  danger  to 
all  his  relatives  and  acquaintances,  unless  he  has  darted 
into  a  quiet  corner  to  persevere  if  haply  he  may  rub  the 
hook  out  of  his  jaws;  in  which  operation  I  wish  him 
speedy  success. 

It  is  better  after  this  blunder  to  shift  quarters  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  take  care  that  the  fault  does  not  recur.  But 
how  true  it  is  that  misfortunes  do  not  come  singly !  Not 
live  minutes  elapse  before  a  wild  attempt  at  an  impossible 
cast  deprives  me  of  my  last  Mayfly.  I  have  left  it  driven 
hard  into  the  overhanging  bough  of  an  alder  that  any  tyro 
should  have  avoided.  With  varying  success  I  now  move 
up  stream,  picking  out  a  trout  here  and  a  troutlet  there 
with  an  orange  palmer  and  a  handsome  blue  dun.  The 
still  summer  night  steals  on  apace,  and  the  half-hour  re- 
maining must  be  devoted  to  the  broader  part  where  the 
ladies  witnessed  my  discomfiture.  In  point  of  numbers 
that  half-hour  turns  out  to  be  the  most  remunerative  of 
the  whole  day ;  the  trout  rise  freely  at  a  tiny  white  moth, 
and  are  partial  to  a  small  coachman ;  twice  I  have  a  brace 
of  young  fish  on  the  line  at  once. 

The  lower  part  of  the  stream  I  am  compelled  to  spare, 
and  even  then  it  is  dark  before  I  have  arranged  my  spoil 
on  a  broad  kitchen  platter,  artistically  disposing  the  finest 
fish  to  catch  the  eye  of  the  ladies  chatting  in  the  homely 
parlour  of  Brawl  Mill.  Supper  being  eaten,  I  plod  up  the 
creaking  stairs,  pondering  that  to  tire  the  arms,  stiffen  the 
back,  punish  the  right  hand,  develop  the  power  of  the 


THE  MAYFLY.  33 

lower  limbs,  and  sharpen  your  appetite,  you  could  pitch 
upon  nothing  better  than  a  long  day  by  the  waterside  in 
the  Mayfly  season. 


PRACTICAL  NOTES  ON  MAY  FISHING. 

Leaving  out  of  the  question  the  various  sections  of  the 
salmon  tribe  which,  with  the  exception  of  the  grayling,  are 
now  in  eager  request,  and  the  tench  spoken  of  in  the  pre- 
vious chapter,  our  fresh  water  fishes  are,  or  should  be, 
protected  by  the  fence  laws  during  May.  Nothing  is  more 
difficult  than  to  lay  down  fixed  dates  for  the  spawning  of 
fish.  So  much  depends  upon  the  forwardness  or  otherwise 
of  the  season,  and  upon  the  peculiarities  of  different 
rivers,  that  the  best  authorities  often  differ  upon  the  point 
April  and  May,  if  not  June,  may,  however,  be  safely 
regarded  as  closed  months  for  all  fish  but  those  'just  men- 
tioned. 

This  law  is  recognised  by  all  properly  organised  Riparian 
authorities.  In  a  forward  season  perch  may  possibly  be 
fitting  prey  for  the  angler  towards  the  end  of  May,  and  in 
our  country  districts,  where  each  man  doeth  what  seemeth 
him  right  in  his  own  eyes,  the  merry  month  generally  tempts 
the  fisherman  forth  to  open  the  campaign  somewhat  earlier 
than,  according  to  the  strict  rules  of  the  game,  he  should 
do. 

As  an  example  of  the  diversity  of  opinion  amongst  pisca- 
torial  Gamaliels  take  the  following  : — Walton  did  not  com- 
mit himself  to  any  particular  time  for  the  spawning  of  the 
perch,  contenting  himself  with  the  very  truthful  remark  that 
the  fish  will  bite  all  the  year  round,  but  he  hinted  pretty 


34  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

broadly  that  it  begins  to  be  in  season  when  "the  mulberry  tree 
buds,  that  is  to  say,  till  extreme  frosts  be  past  the  spring, 
for  when  the  mulberry  tree  blossoms  many  gardeners  observe 
their  forward  fruit  to  be  past  the  danger  of  frosts,  and  some 
have  made  the  like  observations  of  the  perch's  biting." 
Sir  John  Hawkins,  who  edits  Walton,  says  (and  very  erro- 
neously), "  The  best  time  of  the  year  to  angle  for  him  is  from 
the  beginning  of  May  till  the  end  of  June."  Ephemera,  who 
edits  both  Walton  and  Hawkins,  says,  "  Fish  for  perch  from 
February  to  November  " — thus  giving  at  least  three  months 
(March,  April,  and  May)  when  the  fish  is  supposed  to  be  pre- 
paring to  spawn,  spawning,  or  recovering  therefrom.  Hof- 
land,  whose  "  Manual,"  both  as  to  text  and  illustrations,  is  a 
most  trustworthy  and  genial  handbook,  says,  "  The  month  of 
March  has  been  considered  a  good  season  for  perch-fishing  ; 
but  as  they  spawn  in  April  and  May,  from  that  time  they  are 
out  of  condition  till  August."  Blakey,  no  mean  authority, 
comes  nearest  the  orthodox  standard  when  he  says,  "  In 
March  or  April,  and  perhaps  in  May,  according  to  the  season, 
the  perch  cast  their  spawn,  so  that  they  should  be  suffered  to 
semain  unmolested  at  least  till  July  or  August." 

Not  a  word  need  be  said  here  upon  the  modus  oferaiidi 
of  perch-fishing ;  the  fish  is  to  be  found  everywhere,  and 
everybody  who  has  handled  a  rod  knows  how  to  take  him. 
Classical,  clubbable  Jesse  sums  the  case  up  very  neatly  in  his 
"  Rambles  "  by  the  borrowed  lines  : — 

"  Now  let  the  angler  that  would  fish  for  perch 
The  turns  in  rivers  and  backwaters  search. 
In  deepest  holes  the  largest  perch  you'll  find, 
And  where  the  perch  is,  kind  will  answer  kind." 

The  perch  is  not  popular  as  an  edible  because  of  the 


THE  MAYFLY.  35 

difficulty  experienced  in  stripping  it  of  its  scales.  There  is 
no  need  to  scale  the  fish  at  all ;  a  perch  boiled  in  his 
jacket  will  slip  out  of  his  skin  with  ease,  and  reveal  him- 
self white  and  firm,  and,  served  up  with  parsley  sauce,  is 
well  worthy  of  the  praise  of  a  past  master  in  the  Lodge  of 
Epicurism. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  THAMES. 

"  From  his  oozy  bed 

Old  Father  Thames  advanced  his  rev'rend  head, 
His  tresses  drooped  with  dews,  and  o'er  the  stream 

His  shining  horns  diffused  a  golden  gleam  ; 
.     Graved  on  his  urn  appeared  the  moon,  that  guides 

His  swelling  waters  and  alternate  tides  : 

The  figured  streams  in  waves  of  silver  roll'd, 

And  on  his  banks  Augusta,  robed  in  gold  ; 

Around  his  throne  the  sea-born  brothers  stood, 

Who  swell  with  tributary  urns  his  flood  : 

First,  the  famed  authors  of  his  ancient  name, 
The  winding  Isis  and[the  fruitful  Thame." 

CAN  or  will  the  queenly  Thames  be  ever  made  a  salmon 
river  ?  That  is  the^question  askedjyear  after  year,  to  remain 
year  after  year  unanswered.  At  times  we  are  startled  by 
reports  from  Thames-side  of  a  salmon  seen  and  nearly  cap- 
tured. During  a  whole  season  two  or  three  years  ago  artful 
and  exciting  rumours  j  reached  town  respecting  a  veritable 
salmo  salar  said  to  be  creating  a  sensation  at  a  certain 
station  on  the  river.  He*was  wseen  feeding  every  morning  ; 
Jack  Rowlocks  had  obtained  a  full  view  of  him  as  he 
leaped  a  yard  out  of  the  water  in  the  summer  twilight.  Sc- 
ran the  story,  and  in  various^ways  that  fish  has  ever  since 
been  employed  to  fpoint^fishing  morals  and  adorn  waterside 
tales.  He  was  evidently  made  to  rise  again  in  the  following 


THE  THAMES.  37 

paragraph,  which  "went  the  rounds"  at  the  beginning  of 
the  trout  season  of  1874  : — 

"Yesterday  morning  a  salmon  trout  was  observed  by  a  ferryman, 
leaping  about  in  the  Thames  off  Gordon  House,  Isleworth,  the 
residence  of  Earl  Kilmorey.  It  was  supposed  to  weigh  lolb.  or 
I  lib.  A  few  days  ago  a  salmon  trout  weighing  ylb.  4joz.  was 
captured  by  a  bargeman  off  the  island  near  the  same  place." 

This  narrative,  however,  unlike  many  other  paragraphs 
worded  in  the  same  phraseology,  had  some  real  foundation. 
Reduced  into  truth,  the  facts  were  that  a  bargeman  on  the 
Surrey  side  of  the  river,  opposite  the  Church  Ferry,  saw — 
*had  his  attention  directed  to,"  I  believe  is  the  correct 
expression — a  prodigious  splashing  in  a  hole  which  the 
retreating  tide  had  converted  into  a  small  lake  cut  off  from 
all  communication  with  the  stream.  The  bargeman  pro- 
ceeded to  the  spot,  and  forthwith  interviewed  the  splasher, 
who  turned  out  to  be  a  slightly  sickly  but  undoubted 
Thames  trout  of  seven  pounds  weight.  That  it  was  not 
one  of  our  old  phantom  friends  we  know  from  well-attested 
evidence,  for  the  captor  took  his  troutship  to  Gordon 
House,  and  Lady  Kilmorey  sent  it  to  Mr.  Brougham  for 
inspection  and  verification. 

Isleworth,  perhaps  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add,  is  not 
precisely  the  region  where  you  would  look  for  these  noble  river 
aristocrats.  You  may  in  the  hot  summer  time  see  shoals  of 
dace  and  bleak  in  the  cloudy  water,  and  there  is  a  tradition 
that  within  the  memory  of  man  a  bond  fide  seal,  straying  far 
from  the  house  of  his  fathers,  was  surprised  at  Isleworth, 
shot  in  the  eye,  chased  from  one  side  of  the  river  to  the 
other,  and  finally  hauled  out  by  his  flapper.  Flounders  and 
eels  also  abide  hereabouts,  but  trout  are  so  rarely  seen  so 


38  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

far  down  that  the  capture  of  this  unfortunate  wanderer 
deserves  passing  mention. 

Yet,  after  all,  the  Thames  Angling  Preservation  Associa- 
tion has  done  so  much  towards  improving  the  noble  old 
river  that  we  may  well  refrain  from  hazarding  too  positive 
an  opinion  upon  the  point.  Certainly  all  that  human 
exertion  and  enthusiasm  can  do  is  now  being  done,  and  the 
result  is  that  for  general  angling  the  Thames,  even  in  its 
palmiest  state,  was  never  better  stocked  than  it  is  in  these 
later  days  with  the  coarser  kinds  of  fish.  All  thanks  to  the 
Association  for  good  service  rendered  in  the  face  of  very 
lukewarm  support  from  the  public,  who,  nevertheless,  eagerly 
seek  a  full  share  in  the  advantage. 

Still,  it  is  not  high-treason,  nay,  nor  treason-felony,  to 
express  the  fear,  even  if  in  the  expression  we  shock  the 
feelings  of  Mr.  Frank  Buckland  and  his  friends,  that  the 
Thames  will  not  in  our  lifetime  be  a  salmon  river,  unless, 
indeed,  the  fish  can  be  introduced  by  a  hitherto  unknown 
channel.  A  salmon  might  survive  Isleworth,  but  not  the 
turgid  "  Pool"  and  its  multitudinous  shipping.  It  is  pro- 
bably almost  forgotten  now  that  the  House  of  Commons 
in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  passed  a  Bill  whose -object  was 
the  union  of  the  Severn  and  Thames,  and  that  by  means  of 
formidable  and  frequent  locks  and  thirty  miles  of  canal  the 
communication  was  at  length  effected.  Pope,  writing  from 
Cirencester,  said  he  often  dreamt  of  "  the  meeting  of  the 
Thames  and  Severn,  which  are  to  be  led  into  each  other's 
embraces  through  secret  caverns  of  not  above  twelve  to 
fifteen  miles,  till  they  rise  and  celebrate  their  marriage  in 
the  midst  of  an  immense  amphitheatre,  which  is  to  be  the 
admiration  of  posterity  a  hundred  years  hence." 


THE  THAMES.  39 

Could  we  not  stock  the  Thames  with  salmon  vi&  the 
Severn  ?  Let  us  have  a  joint-stock  concern  to  do  it— "  The 
Severn  and  Thames  Salmon  Company,  Limited."  I  make 
the  commercial  world  a  free  gift  of  the  gigantic  idea. 

The  Thames,  however,  independent  of  salmon,  does  not 
receive  full  justice  from  the  prejudiced  public.  Not  long 
since,  at  the  opening  of  the  trout  season,  a  leading  article  in 
a  daily  newspaper,  with  a  sort  of  wink  of  the  eye,  humbly 
wished  to  be  informed  what  had  become  of  the  good  old- 
fashioned  Thames  trout ;  the  insinuation  clearly  being  that 
he  was,  like  Messrs.  Mastodon  and  Co.,  a  thing  of  the  remote 
ages.  It  so  happened  that  during  the  immediately  succeeding 
weeks  most  gratifying  answers  to  that  question  came  from 
many  a  fishing  station.  Yet  it  may  be  accepted  as  a  fact 
about  which  there  is  no  room  for  doubt  that  there  has  not 
been  of  late  years — we  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  olden 
times,  when  salmon  were  supposed  to  be  numerous  enough 
to  hold  crowded  indignation  meetings  under  London  Bridge 
on  their  way  to  the  upper  waters— so  many  trout  moving  as 
in  the  season  of  1874.  It  is  quite  possible  to  bring  facts  and 
figures  to  support  this  position,  but  if  I  put  them  into  the 
witness-box  it  would  be  chiefly  that  they  might  prove  how 
highly  beneficial  and  successful  have  been  the  labours  of  the 
Thames  Angling  Preservation  Society,  and  the  energetic 
officers  who  carry  out  its  objects.  During  the  first  week  in 
April,  when  the  trout  season  opened,  the  anglers  found  little 
to  do  beyond  shivering  in  the  bitter  winds  and  bewailing  the 
high  colour  of  the  water ;  but  according  to  that  high  court 
of  appeal  the  Field,  trout  of  goodly  size  afterwards  began  to 
be  slain  in  various  parts  of  the  river  with  live  bait,  spinning 
tackle,  and  the  fly,  while  one  splendid  fellow  of.nine  pounds 


40  WA  'IERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

met  an  inglorious  fate  by  a  night-line  set  for  eels.  In  the 
middle  of  the  month  four  hundred  troutlings  were  transferred 
from  the  Sunbury  rearing  ponds  to  the  Thames,  and  at 
Maidenhead  there  were  numerous  captures  of  the  smaller 
fly-taking  trout  which  so  rarely  come  to  one's  basket. 

Latterly,  I  hear  that  an  effort  is  to  be  made  to  adapt  the 
grayling  to  the  Thames.  It  is  indeed  a  consummation 
devoutly  to  be  wished  that  the  common  brown  trout  and 
the  grayling  may  establish  themselves  as  regular  householders 
of  the  river,  many  parts  of  which  are  eminently  suitable  for 
their  peculiarities.  But  there  are  two  determined  enemies 
to  the  entire  plan,  if  not  more — namely,  the  pike  and  perch, 
and  recent  experience  proves  that  these  prowling  bandits 
have  multiplied  exceedingly  under  the  judicious  rules 
enforced  for  their  protection. 

It  is  a  little  singular  to  read  in  an  angler's  book  published 
forty  years  ago  that  while  pike  and  perch  fishing  seemed  to 
be  followed  only  occasionally,  "as  it  is  very  uncertain  sport 
in  the  Thames,"  trout  were  fairly  numerous.  Then,  as  now, 
the  proper  thing  for  the  angler  was  to  perch  upon  the  top  of 
a  pile  with  the  uproar  and  gallop  of  the  weir  flood  beneath 
him,  and  spin  patiently  for  the  expected  monster ;  but  there 
were  spinners  and  trollers  also  in  those  days,  piscatorial 
sons  of  Anak  whose  deeds  were,  and  here  and  there  are  still 
to  be  seen,  commemorated  in  the  rudely  outlined  fish  drawn  on 
the  walls  of  the  comfortable  hostelries  on  Thames-side.  In 
1835  Jesse  speaks  of  a  large  trout  that  took  its  daily  airing 
opposite  the  water-gallery  of  Hampton  Court,  but  had 
defied  every  endeavour  to  capture  it.  The  wish  expressed 
by  Jesse  that  "  something  will  be  done  for  the  protection  of 
the  fish  during  the  earlier  stages  of  their  existence"  has 


THE  THAMES.  41 

been  fulfilled,  and  we  can  still  say,  with  that  rare  old  contri- 
butor to  Prater's  Magazine,  that  "Persons  of  every  class 
seem  to  participate  in  the  amusement  of  Thames  angling, 
from  the  Duke  of  Sussex  to  the  little  fat  cobbler  of 
Hampton."  Jesse  lived  at  Hampton,  and  naturally  gave  a 
preference  to  that  portion  of  the  river,  and  many  modern 
•anglers  agree  with  him  in  that  preference. 

It  was  the  Thames  that  inspired  Jesse  to  recommend  to 
his  brethren  of  the  Walton  and  Cotton  Fishing  Club  the 
old  song : — 

"  Come,  lay  by  all  cares,  and  hang  up  all  sorrow, 
Let's  angle  to-day  and  ne'er  think  of  to-morrow : 
And  by  the  brook-side  as  we  angle  along, 
We'll  cheer  up  ourselves  with  our  sport  and  a  song. 

"  There,  void  of  all  care,  we're  more  happy  than  they 
That  sit  upon  thrones,  and  kingdoms  do  sway : 
For  sceptres  and  crowns  disquiet  still  bring : 
But  the  man  that's  content  is  more  blest  than  a  king." 

Not  so  much  as  a  trout  river,  however,  as  the  cosmo- 
politan resort  of  miscellaneous  anglers,  let  us  bestow  a  few 
thoughts  upon  the  Thames.  I  will  openly  confess  myself  a 
very  indifferent  Thames  fisherman.  Imprisonment  in  a  punt 
has  no  delights  for  me.  To  me  one  of  the  chief  charms  of 
the  angler's  pursuit  is  the  infinite  variety  of  scenery  into  which 
it  leads  him.  Give  me  a  supple  fly-rod,  equip  me  in  all 
respects  in  light  marching  order,  introduce  me  to  a  few 
miles  of  stream  that  meanders  through  flowery  mead  and 
leafy  dell ;  that  now  rolls  dark  and  deep,  and  anon  splashes 
and  foams  over  stones  and  shallows ;  that  at  every  bend 
opens  up  a  new  prospect ;  that  brings  me  here  to  a  rustic 
weather-browned  footbridge,  and  there  to  a  ford  through 


4  2  WA  TERS1DE  SKETCHES. 

which  the  ploughman  or  harvestman  takes  his  team  ;  or  to  a 
simple  hamlet,  perfumed  with  wood-fire,  thatch,  and  homeli- 
ness, where  morning  newspapers  are  unknown  ;  thence  into 
the  sheltered  glade,  and,  by  smiling  homestead,  away  from  the 
haunts  of  man ;  give  me  all  this  on  a  day  when  the  larks 
sing  loud  and  untiringly,  and  the  insects  rehearse  in  happy 
chorus  ;  when  i(  waves  of  shadow  "  pass  over  the  glad  fields 
and  woods,  and  all  God's  beautiful  earth  seems  to  murmur 
in  grateful  softness  of  spirit — give  me  this,  and  you  present 
to  me  one  of  the  masterful  attractions  of  what  has  been  so 
appropriately  termed  the  "  contemplative  man's  recreation." 
I  shall  like  it  all  the  better,  to  be  sure,  if  my  fly  be  not  cast 
upon  the  water  in  vain ;  but  in  no  case  shall  I  bewail  the 
day  as  a  positive  blank. 

This  is  a  type  of  happiness  which  often  falls  to  the  rambling 
Waltonian's  share,  but  seldom  to  the  share  of  the  Thames 
angler.  Indeed,  the  only  envy  I  can  remember  entertaining 
towards  one  of  this  fraternity  was  with  respect  to  a  gentleman 
who  had  the  leisure,  the  patience,  and  the  good  fortune  to 
whip  his  way  from  the  source  of  the  Thames  through  all  the 
lovely  landscapes  of  Gloucester,  Oxford,  and  Berks,  to  the 
royal  borough  of  Windsor,  picking  up  a  trout  here,  a  chub 
there,  and  a  dace  you  might  almost  say  everywhere.  Yet 
what  exquisite  scenes  are  commanded  by  the  Thames  1 
Verily  it  were  a  work  of  supererogation  to  recount  them, 
since  they  have  been  the  subject  of  poet's  song  and  artist's 
pencil  from  time  immemorial.  Thus  : — 

"  But  health  and  labour's  willing  train 
Crowns  all  thy  banks  with  waving  grain  ; 
With  beauty  decks  thy  sylvan  shades, 
With  livelier  green  invests  thy  glades  ; 


THE  THAMES.  43 

And  grace,  and  bloom,  and  plenty  pours 
O'er  thy  sweet  meads  and  willowy  shores. 
The  fields  where  herds  unnumbered  rove, 
The  laurell'd  path,  the  beech  en  grove, 
The  oak,  in  lonely  grandeur  free, 
Lord  of  the  forest  and  the  sea  ; 
The  spreading  plain,  the  cultured  hill, 
The  tranquil  cot,  the  restless  mill, 
The  lonely  hamlet,  calm  and  still ; 
The  village  spire,  the  busy  town, 
The  shelving  bank,  the  rising  down  ; 
The  fisher's  punt,  the  peasant's  home, 
The  woodland  seat,  the  regal  dome, 
In  quick  succession  rise  to  charm 
The  mind  with  virtuous  feelings  warm  ; 
Till  where  thy  widening  current  glides, 
To  mingle  with  the  turbid  tides, 
Thy  spacious  breast  displays  unfurled 
The  ensigns  of  th'  assembled  world." 

There  are,  I  know,  many  anglers  who  prefer  streams  on  a 
smaller  scale,  and  the  liberty  of  the  solitary  roamer  j  but  for 
the  life  of  me  I  cannot  understand  why  Thames  punt-fish- 
ing should  be  sneered  at  and  abused  by  those  who  have  no 
personal  liking  for  it.  If  to  yield  the  greatest  happiness  to 
the  greatest  number  is  to  benefit  mankind,  in  the  matter  of 
angling  the  Thames  punt  must  be  held  in  supreme  venera- 
tion as  a  benefactor.  Thousands  of  citizens,  for  the  major 
part  of  the  year  immersed  in  the  grinding  mill-round  of 
business  and  business  cares,  thanks  to  the  square-cornered 
ugly  Thames  punt,  find  innocent  amusement  and  healthful 
draughts  of  fresh  air. 

Yet  how  easy  it  is  to  laugh  at  the  spectacle,  say,  of  those 
three  stout  gentlemen  in  their  shirt-sleeves,  sitting  cosily  in 
Windsor  chairs,  engaged  throughout  the  livelong  day  in 
jerking  back  to  their  feet  the  gaily-coloured  float  which. 


44  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

perpetually  races  away  from  them,  as  if  anxious  to  escape 
the  everlasting  check  put  upon  its  motions  !  These  gentle- 
men are  Smith,  Jones,  and  Robinson,  and  it  is  both  probable 
and  possible  that  they  will  be  punted  to  the  snug  waterside 
hostelry  at  night  with  no  more  fish  than  they  could  hide  in 
a  quart  pot.  They  are  men  in  flourishing  lines  of  business 
when  at  home,  but  to-day,  happy  as  the  kings  of  proverb, 
they  sit  there  under  the  broiling  sun,  hoping  a  good  deal, 
dreaming  a  little,  eating,  drinking,  and  smoking  somewhat, 
and  caring  for  nobody  in  the  wide  universe.  Money  may 
be  tight  in  the  City,  markets  bad,  things  on  the  Exchange 
gloomy ;  but  for  the  time  a  lusty  barbel  or  a  wriggling  roach 
would  concern  them  more  than  all  your  dividends,  discounts, 
or  exchanges. 

And  there  is  no  part  of  the  Thames — certainly  no  por- 
tion of  its  fishable  parts — where  there  is  not  shorewards 
something  worth  looking  upon.  No  doubt  your  superfine 
critic  would  consider  punt-fishing  at  Richmond,  or  anywhere 
between  Richmond  and  Teddington,  as  Cockneyism  of  the 
most  pronounced  type ;  but  if  only  for  the  sake  of  the 
manifold  playings  of  light  and  shade  upon  the  trees,  the 
glints  of  golden  sunlight  falling  each  hour  differently  as  the 
eventide  draws  on  upon  the  river,  and  the  ever-changing, 
ever-interesting  traffic  of  the  tideway  which  you  get  on  a 
summer  afternoon,  stationed  within  sight  of  beautiful 
Richmond  Hill,  or  further  up  by  the  pretty  lawns  and  villas 
of  Twickenham,  you  would  do  well  not  to  think  too  lightly 
of  a  few  hours  in  a  Thames  punt,  even  so  close  to  the  Rialto 
as  are  those  near-at-hand  "  pitches." 

It  does  your  heart  good  to  ramble  along  the  banks  and 
see  how  much  happiness  the  bounteous  river  gives  to  old 


THE  THAMES.  45 

and  young.  Cockneyism  ?  Sit  down  upon  this  bit  of  soft 
turf,  your  feet  dallying  with  the  meadow-sweet  on  the  brink, 
and  watch  the  inhabitants  of  the  nearest  punt.  There  is 
the  fisherman  in  his  usual  commanding  position — ground- 
bait,  gentles,  landing  net,  customer's  lines,  and  (may  I 
without  offence  add  ?)  commissariat  department,  all  within 
reach  of  his  hand.  You  see  this  is  a  family  party.  Pater- 
familias in  the  straw  hat  will  be  at  the  receipt  of  custom  to- 
morrow morning,  and  would  politely  but  firmly  request  you 
to  endorse  your  cheque  if  you  had  omitted  that  necessary 
ceremony.  He  watches  the  fisherman  (who  is  generally 
Bob  or  Bill  Somebody)  dispense  ground-bait  much  as 
yesterday  he  would  watch  the  junior  at  the  bank  shovelling 
sovereigns  into  the  bags ;  only  he  is  free  from  anxiety,  and 
the  eye  of  the  superior  is  not  upon  him.  The  two  boys  are 
absorbed  in  their  sport,  striking  vigorously  at  the  end  of 
every  swim,  and  clamouring  for  more  ground-bait.  Their 
mother,  working  quietly  in  the  background,  has  to  duck  her 
head  and  lower  her  parasol  when  Master  Henry  perceives  a 
bite,  for  Master  Henry's  idea  of  sport  is  swishing  the  fish 
high  in  the  air  over  his  shoulder.  The  little  girl,  lounging 
in  the  bottom  of  the  punt,  laughs  musically  at  these  per- 
formances ;  and  the  merry  voices  of  all  are  never  wholly 
still. ' .  Quite  content  are  these  anglers  with  the  six-inch 
victims  transferred,  as  fortune  varies,  into  the  basket. 

What  a  hubbub  there  is  in  the  punt  when  Paterfamilias 
after  a  dexterous  "  strike  "  finds  his  float  doggedly  held  be- 
neath the  surface  !  The  fisherman  warns  and  directs  after 
the  manner  of  fishermen,  doing,  of  course,  his  best  to  increase 
the  nervousness  of  an  inexperienced  angler.  Even  mamma 
gets  excited  over  this  crisis.  To  right  of  them,  to  left  of 


46  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

them,  the  taut  line  is  borne.  The  angler  is  commanded  to 
"  let  him  go,"  to  lower  the  point  of  his  rod,  and  to  take  it 
easy.  Miss  Mary's  oval  face  peers  over  the  side  of  the 
punt,  and  her  brown  eyes  try  to  pierce  the  two  fathoms  of 
water.  Master  Henry  shouts  aloud  his  conjectures.  Master 
Robert  saw  the  monster  turn  over  on  his  side. 

"  It's  as  long  as  your  arm,  papa,"  he  cries. 

The  float  is  gradually  being  coaxed  above  water  at  last, 
but  it  still  makes  sharp,  slanting  stabs,  pointing  to  the  depths 
where  the  prey,  whatever  it  may  be,  is  making  angry  efforts 
to  free  itself.  It  is  a  little  disappointing,  no  doubt,  when, 
after  all  this  fuss,  the  monster  is  netted  in  the  shape  of  a 
bronze,  wiry  .barbel,  of  not  much  over  a  pound  and  a  half; 
but  the  consoling  reflection  remains  that  if  it  had  been  a 
salmon  itself  it  could  not  have  fought  more  pluckily.  Our 
last  glimpse  at  this  scene  of  "Cockneyism"  reveals  the 
proud  citizen  surrounded  by  his  family,  to  whom  he  is  con- 
fidentially explaining  that  to  slay  such  a  fish  with  a  footline 
of  fine  gut  is  a  particularly  clever  and  artistic  feat — a  propo- 
sition no  one  gainsays.  Mademoiselle  is  much  interested 
in  the  demonstrations  of  the  barbel  now  sulking  in  the  well, 
and  the  boys  are  busy  separating  their  lines,  which  in  the 
agitation  of  the  last  quarter  of  an  hour  were  allowed  to 
become  entangled. 

Young  Browne  Browne,  Esq.,  pulling  up  stream  with  two 
brass-buttoned  ladies  in  the  stern-sheets,  rests  on  his  sculls 
to  make  game  of  Smith,  Jones,  and  Robinson,  in  their  shirt- 
sleeves. He  wonders  how  "these  fellaws"  can  sit  in  the 
punt  after  that  fashion,  pities  the  weak  intellect  which 
angling  denotes,  and  mightily  amuses  his  pretty,  gaily- 
dressed  companions  by  his  wit.  It  is  strange  that  S.,  J., 


THE  THAMES.  47 

and  R.  are  on  their  part  at  the  same  time  laughing  at 
Browne  Browne's  amazing  nautical  costume ;  and  Jones, 
who  is  the  wag  of  the  party,  seeing  plainly  that  the  young 
boating-man  is  making  himself  pleasant  at  their  expense, 
calls  out  and  asks  him  why  he  does  not  take  a  reef  in  his 
maintop-sail  anchor,  and  with  shocking  coarseness  observes  : 

"I  say,  has  the  old  man  in  Shoreditch  sold  that  tripe 
business  yet  ?" 

Whereat  Browne  Browne  looks  black,  and  one  of  his  fair 
friends  titters.  I  suppose  life  would  not  be  half  so  tolerable 
if  people  did  not  spend  a  portion  of  their  time  in  laughing 
at  each  other. 

Browne  Browne  sometimes  trusts  himself  on  l?oard  a  small 
toy  steamer,  and  then  he  is  apt  to  become  a  serious  nuisance. 
The  little  spit-fire  craft  ruthlessly  invades  many  a  "  swim," 
frightens  scores  of  innocent  fishing  people  who  are  uncere- 
moniously 

"  Rocked  in  the  cradle  of  the  deep," 

and  pursues  its  reckless  way  in  triumph.  And  it  would  be  all 
the  better  if  Browne  Browne  would  forswear  that  unmanly 
trailing  propensity  of  his,  and  leave  the  small  jack  to  reach 
years  of  something  like  maturity.  I  do  not  believe  B.  B., 
Esq.,  deliberately  intends  to  be  objectionable,  but  he  is  a 
thoughtless  harum-scarum  gentleman  who  does  not  look 
far  enough  ahead  in  his  purview  of  the  world  and  its 
waters. 

The  extension  of  railways  has  brought  the  Thames  within 
easy  reach  of  the  angling  classes.  The  river  may  now  be 
"tapped"  at  all  points,  beginning  with  a  Great  Western 
station  not  far  from  the  source.  The  number  of  anglers  in 


48  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

the  Thames  multiplies  with  every  season,  and  the  pastime 
itself  is  more  generally  followed,  if  not  in  its  higher,  in  its 
lower  branches.  The  angling  clubs  in  the  metropolis 
probably  have  a  good  deal  to  do  with  this  addition  to  the 
rank  and  file  of  anglers.  As  nearly  as  can  be  estimated 
there  are  close  upon  two  thousand  members  of  fishing 
associations  in  London,  and  half  of  them  no  doubt  are 
Thames  anglers.  A  very  few  of  the  clubs  are  high-class  and 
wealthy;  the  rest  are  situated  in  poor  localities,  and  supported 
by  poor  members.  It  would  be  too  much  to  expect  from 
the  latter  as  high  a  standard  of  sportsmanship  as  you  would 
find  in  the  former,  but  as  a  rule  the  humblest  societies  are 
well  ordered.  When  shall  I  forget  the  vision  at  Sunbury 
of  a  gentleman  belonging  to  a  crack  club  ?  I  saw  him  in 
lemon-coloured  kid  gloves,  followed  by  an  urchin  carrying 
his  rod  and  basket.  A  stranger  to  the  locality,  anxious  to 
fish  for  anything  he  could  get,  politely  asked  him  a  question 
or  two  as  to  where  he  might  fish,  and  what  his  chances  were 
of  sport,  receiving  in  return  a  supercilious  stare  through  an 
eye-glass  and  a  frigid 

"  Can't  say,  I'm  shaw." 

The  stranger  had  his  revenge  afterwards.  The  gentleman 
seated  himself  on  a  post  at  the  head  of  the  weir,  and  re- 
mained there  for  three  hours  spinning,  or  rather  allowing  the 
rush  of  water  to  spin,  for  a  trout.  He  did  not  catch  the 
trout,  but  he  fell  headlong  into  the  pool,  and,  besides  being, 
half-drowned,  lost  his  rod  and  spoiled  his  gloves. 

The  most  courteous  and  genuine-hearted  Waltonian  I 
ever  met  by  the  waterside  was  a  Bloomsbury  locksmith's 
apprentice.  I  was  stopping  at  Henley,  and  although  I 
never  actually  indulge  in  my  favourite  amusement  on 


THE  THAMES.  49 

Sundays,  conscientious  scruples  do  not  prevent  my  watching 
with  the  keenest  interest  any  sort  of  rod-work  that  comes 
under  my  notice  on  the  day  of  rest.  The  first  train  on 
Sunday  morning  would  bring  down  scores  of  rods,  and  most 
amusing  it  was  to  watch  the  anglers  disperse  along  the  river- 
side. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  Sundays'  quiet  observation  of  these 
men,  who  mostly  belonged  to  small  angling  clubs,  I  could 
detect  signs  of  un-Waltonian  selfishness,  for  which  I  suspect 
the  club  prize  system — its  abuse,  not  its  use — is  to  a  great 
extent  answerable.  Some  "  brother  of  the  angle,"  as  you 
might  soon  perceive,  was  stimulated  by  the  hope  of  a  prize 
to  excel  honestly  in  the  craft ;  it  sharpened  his  wits,  and 
put  him  upon  his  mettle.  In  others,  on  the  contrary,  very 
undesirable  qualities  were  developed.  They  forgot  that 
though  everything  might  be  fair  in  love  and  war,  in  angling 
there  are  certain  rules  not  to  be  transgressed.  Their  one 
desire  was  to  bag  fish — honestly  if  possible,  but  at  all  costs 
to  bag  fish. 

The  sportsman  thus  became,  in  the  worst  sense  of  the 
term,  a  pot  hunter.  He  leaped  from  the  railway  carriage 
before  the  train  stopped,  panting  to  be  first  in  the  field. 
One  morning  I  saw  a  dozen  young  fellows  racing  as  if  for 
dear  life  towards  the  meadows,  foaming  with  rage  at  a  dapper 
little  French  polisher  who  outstripped  them  all.  Just  as  the 
peaceful  church  bells  were  calling  the  people  to  prayer,  and 
the  musical  chime  floated  across  the  waters  to  die  away  in 
the  magnificent  woods  rising  grandly  on  the  other  side,  a 
regular  fight  took  place  between  the  competitors.  Through- 
out the  day  men  tried  to  mislead  and  even  to  interfere  with 
each  other's  fishing,  a  miserable  contrast  to  the  ancient 

E 


50  WA  TERSIDE  SKE TCHES. 

angler  who   quaintly  asked  no  higher  bliss   than   to   live 
harmlessly : — 

"  Where  I  may  see  my  quill  or  cork  down  sink 
With  eager  bite  of  perch,  or  bleak,  or  dace ; 
And  on  the  world  and  my  Creator  think 
Whilst  some  men  strive  ill-gotten  goods  t'embrace, 
And  others  spend  their  time  in  base  excess 
Of  wine,  or  worse,  in  war  and  wantonness." 

My  courteous  locksmith's  apprentice — a  thorough  gentle- 
man at  heart — would  hold  no  intercourse  with  these  ne'er- 
do-wells.  He  had  discovered  a  sweet  nook  at  the  junction 
of  the  main  with  a  smaller  stream,  and  there,  Chidden  in- 
overhanging  alder  boughs,  he  perseveringly  plied  his  lures. 
The  lad  was  very  poor,  and,  as  he  confessed  to  me,  denied 
himself  all  superfluities',  and  some  necessaries,  to  raise  the 
four  shillings  which  his  fortnightly  trip  to  Henley  cost  him. 
He  had  never  missed  his  Sunday  for  two  seasons.  He  was 
great  in  theories.  He  had  a  theory  about  everything — 
about  tying  a  knot,  about  impaling  gentles,  about  striking 
and  landing.  His  greatest  achievement  was  the  killing  of 
a  fine  trout  without  running  tackle  and  with  an  ordinary 
roach  rod.  Some  club  men  refused  to  speak  to  him  be- 
cause he  wore  threadbare  velveteen  and  highly  bleached 
corduroy ;  but,  as  he  informed  me  with  a  comical  smile, 
they  could  be  very  gracious  to  the  youth  if  they  ran  short 
of  baits  or  hooks.  With  all  their  wiles  and  questionable 
play,  the  locksmith  could  beat  them  hollow  at  fishing. 
When  to  most  eyes  there  was  no  movement  of  his  porcu- 
pine float  he  would  be  fast  to  a  fish.  The  prettiest  bit  of 
angling  I  ever  saw  was  his  handling  of  a  vigorous  pound- 
and-half  roach  in  a  roughish  stream.  I  have  often  wondered 


THE  THAMES.  51 

what  luck  has  fallen  to  this  casual  waterside  acquain- 
tance in  the  every-day  of  life.  He  was  very  original,  and, 
for  one  of  his  class,  well-informed.  A  tattered  ready- 
reckoner,  &fac  simile  of  the  famous  Orton  diary  produced 
during  the  Tichborne  trial,  he  always  carried  with  him,  as  a 
receptacle  of  rare  entomological  or  floral  specimens.  A 
present  of  a  "  Walton's  Complete  Angler  "  brought  tears  of 
gratitude  into  his  eyes.  It  was  not  necessary  to  warn  him, 
at  any  rate,  against  a  certain  selfishness  which  I  fear,  though 
not  peculiar  to  Thames-side,  is  much  more  prevalent  there 
than  it  used  to  be  amongst  Waltonians.  Because  of  this  I  do 
not  say  the  prize  system  should  be  abolished,  but  it  is  an 
additional  reason  why  the  humblest  of  clubs  should  culti- 
vate a  spirit  which  is  fatal  alike  to  unbrotherly  and  un- 
sportsman-like  behaviour.  Surely,  surely,  anglers  are  so 
comparatively  few  and  the  world  is  so  wide  that  there  is 
room  enough  for  all ! 

If  the  anglers  who  have  not  the  opportunity  of  punting 
farther  than  Teddington  or  Hampton  are  to  be  congratu- 
lated upon  the  fair  scenes  surrounding  them  as  they  pursue 
their  avocation,  what  shall  be  said  of  the  more  fortunate 
who  pay  leisurely  visits  to  Windsor,   Maidenhead,   Cook- 
ham,   Marlow,  Sonning,   Caversham,  Pangbourne,  Goring, 
Moulsford,  and  Wallingford  ?     It  is  a  very  trite  saying  that 
we  despise  what  is  nearest  home.     One  has  no  patience 
with   travellers  who   persist  in   shutting  their  eyes  to  the 
beautiful  scenery  of  the  Upper  Thames,  or  in  placing  her 
charms  lower  than  those  of  other  rivers,   which  they  feel 
constrained  to  adore  because  they  are  more  remote.     The 
Thames,  it  is  true,  boasts  of  no  bouldered  bed,  rocky  banks, 
or  turbulent  currents  that  roar  their  troubled  journey  to  the 

E  2 


5  2  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

sea;  but  its  landscapes  in  many  respects  have  no  equal. 
They  tell  in  every  feature  of  peace  and  plenty :  of  corn, 
and  wine,  and  oil. 

To  the  angler  the  Thames  offers  a  wide  choice.  It  con- 
tains fish  for  all  fishers.  Towards  the  close  of  last  year's 
season  I  saw  a  dainty  little  lady,  sitting  in  a  punt  near  the 
bridge  at  Hampton,  catch  with  most  graceful  skill  a  fine 
dish  of  gudgeon,  who  might  truly  have  said  : — 

"  And  Beauty  draws  us  with  a  single  hair." 

On  the  first  Saturday  in  May  a  gallant  friend  of  mine, 
snatching  an  outing  at  Maidenhead,  caught  a  grandly- 
speckled  trout  of  five  pounds,  hooked  a  pike  of  ten 
pounds,  which,  under  the  extradition  treaty  of  the  fence 
months,  was  returned  to  the  place  whence  it  came,  and  in 
the  same  way  and  with  the  same  result  captured  a  chub  of 
the  unusual  weight  of  six  pounds.  Of  course  while  there  are 
some  prizes,  I  do  not  deny  there  are  many  blanks.  That  is  a 
rule  of  life.  In  Thames  trout-fishing  there  are,  it  is  useless 
to  conceal,  many,  many  blanks  ;  perhaps  it  is  not  too  much 
to  say  that  prizes  are  the  exception.  In  the  commoner 
fishing,  however,  the  luck  which  falls  to  rods  on  the 
Thames,  skilful  and  unskilful  alike,  is  for  these  days,  when 
the  tendency  of  things  is  to  destroy  the  remnant  of  sport 
that  is  left  to  us,  amazingly  great.  Let  any  sceptic — and 
anglers  somehow  have  to  endure  a  maximum  of  undeserved 
unbelief — who  doubts  this  betake  himself  on  Sunday  nights 
to  the  fishing  clubs  which  encourage  "  weighing-in,"  and  he 
will  be  surprised  at  the  baskets  of  the  coarser  kinds  of  fish 
that  are  brought  home  from  the  Thames  stations. 

While  the  preservation  of  the  Thames  has  been  worthy 


THE  THAMES.  53 

of  all  praise,  there  is  something  yet  to  be  done.  Mede  and 
Persian  laws  cannot  be  laid  down  upon  angling,  and  the 
experience  of  one  year,  without  any  apparent  reason,  often 
directly  contradicts  the  experience  of  another.  But  upon 
one  point  there  need  be  no  hesitating  utterance — fishing  for 
pike  in  June  is  opposed  to  both  law  and  common  sense. 
Roach  may  have  recovered  from  spawning  in  that  leafy 
month,  though  that  is  by  no  means  certain,  even  when  the 
season  has  been  a  forward  one.  In  the  last  week  of  April 
I  have  caught  with  a  fly  dace  that  were  perfectly  recovered, 
and  this  in  a  stream  where  the  previous  year  they  were 
rough  and  flabby  so  late  as  the  middle  of  May.  - 

Leaving,  however,  roach  and  dace  as  debatable  subjects, 
it  cannot  be  too  strongly  set  forth  that  the  Thames  anglers 
are  allowed  to  capture  pike  a  month,  if  not  eight  weeks,  too 
soon.  The  bream-fishing  of  the  Thames  is  capricious,  but 
large  fish  are  occasionally  taken,  and  they  are  more  deli- 
cately coloured  within  and  without  than  the  bream  of  slug- 
gish waters.  Tench  are  the  angel's  visits  of  the  Thames. 
Perch,  as  I  have  pointed  out  in  the  notes  to  the  previous 
chapter,  are,  as  a  general  rule,  fair  game  at  Midsummer,  for 
the  perch,  after  spawning,  loses  no  time  in  being  himself 
again.  It  is  the  pike  which  suffers.  Here  again  the  prize 
system  of  the  clubs  works  immense  mischief.  In  June  the 
pike  are  pallid  and  lean  ;  at  times  you  may  take  them  with 
anything  that  is  moving  and  bright,  yet  I  have  seen  them 
so  emaciated  and  listless  in  that  month  as  to  barely  move 
out  of  your  way  at  close  quarters. 

Unscrupulous  pot  hunters  in  killing  these  fish  are,  to  be 
sure,  doing  what  is  lawful ;  the  expediency  does  not  trouble 
them  by  so  much  as  a  thought.  Every  fish  helps  them 


54  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

towards  that  cruet-stand,  or  silver  teapot,  or  twenty-two  feet 
roach  rod  offered  for  the  heaviest  weight  of  jack  taken 
during  the  season,  or  during  a  day ;  thus,  however  unclean 
their  condition,  the  unseasonable  fish  are  brought  to  the 
club  scales.  If  the  authorities  with  whom  the  fence  regula- 
tions rest  wish  to  damage  the  Thames  as  a  pike  river,  in  the 
hope  of  improving  the  trout  preserves,  that  is  quite  another 
affair  ;  then,  let  us  cut,  and  kill,  and  net  by  wholesale.  But 
it  is  well  known  that  such  is  not  the  case ;  yet,  for  no  reason 
that  can  be  suggested,  much  less  stated,  pike-murder,  allowed 
nowhere  else  in  England,  is  encouraged  in  the  Thames, 
which  in  other  respects  is  being,  as  I  have  said,  most 
carefully,  and  successfully,  protected. 

The  professional  Thames  fisherman,  though  not  half  so 
bad  as  he  is  painted,  is  all  the  better  for  being  looked  after. 
Fishing  from  the  punt  necessarily  involves  an  almost  child- 
like trust  in  the  fisherman.  If  you  succeed,  you  reward 
him  ;  if  you  fail,  you  execrate  him  and  all  that  is  his.  Your 
prosperity  you  place  to  the  credit  of  your  own  skill ;  your 
adversity  you  lay  to  his  charge.  In  both  you  may  be  right, 
but  it  is  not  hard  to  see  that  between  the  two  the  fisherman 
runs  a  capital  chance  of  being  spoiled.  Much  of  the  objec- 
tion which  many  entertain  to  Thames  angling  arises  from 
dislike  of  the  fisherman.  Still  the  fisherman's  position  is  a 
safe  one,  for  to  fish  the  Thames  profitably  you  must  perforce 
use  a  punt  or  boat.  The  fishermen  are  capable  of  some 
improvement,  although  in  fairness  to  them  let  me  say  that, 
considering  how  they  are  pampered  by  one  set  of  anglers 
and  bullied  by  another,  the  wonder  is  they  are  not  worse 
than  they  are. 

You  will  forgive  a  man  much  if  he  is  equal  to  his  business, 


THE  THAMES.  55 

and  the  Thames  fishermen  as  a  body  do  understand  the 
river,  and  the  habits  and  haunts  of  its  fish.  It  does  not  of 
course  follow  that  they  will  give  every  stranger  the  benefit 
of  their  knowledge;  why  should  you  expect  them  to  be 
above  favouritism  and  scheming  when  Society,  from  its 
Alpine  heights  of  fashion  to  its  plebeian  base,  is  full  of  it  ? 
The  fisherman,  naturally  too,  sometimes  loses  patience  with 
the  amateurs  who  frequently  occupy  his  punt ;  they  are  out 
for  a  day's  jollity,  and  he  fools  them  to  the  top  of  their  bent. 
On  the  other  hand,  nothing  can  be  more  irritating  than  to 
be  pestered  by  a  talkative  fisherman,  or  a  man  who  will 
meddle  and  dictate. 

Last  year  a  friend  persuaded  me  to  join  him  in  a  day's 
punt-fishing  at  one  of  the  higher  stations.  I  was  warned 
that  I  should  find  the  fisherman  a  most  disagreeable  neces- 
sity, and  the  anticipation  quite  spoiled  that  pleasure  of  hope 
which  every  angler  knows  is  not  the  least  ingredient  of  a 
happy  day.  The  man  introduced  himself  to  us  at  our  hotel, 
and  ordered  breakfast  at  our  expense — not  at  all  bad  as  a 
beginning.  Bottled  ale  was  good  enough  for  our  hamper, 
but  the  fisherman,  volunteering  to  pack  the  meats  and 
drinks,  coolly  told  us  he  could  not  drink  beer,  and  must 
have  whisky.  A  pint  of  Kinahan's  was  forthwith  added  for 
his  special  consumption ;  he  was,  I  remember,  particular  as 
to  Kinahan. 

He  punted  us  down  the  river,  and  brought  up  at  a 
notable  "pitch/'  Till  then  we  had  rather  enjoyed  the 
young  man's  cool,  and  not  in  manner  at  all  offensive, 
assumption,  but  when  he  proceeded  to  forbid  my  com- 
panion to  bait  his  own  hooks,  plumb  the  depth,  or 
£ouch  a  fish;  when  a  jack  hooked  himself  upon  my 


56  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

ledger  line  and  I  began,  knowing  somewhat  of  the  pro- 
cess, to  winch  him  in,  and  our  friend  peremptorily  took  the 
rod — my  rod ! — out  of  my  hands,  and  by  his  clumsiness 
allowed  the  jack  to  escape,  matters  were  brought  to  a  crisis. 

Some  language  ensued.  The  air,  I  rejoice  to  say,  quickly 
cleared,  and  our  friend  was  none  the  worse  for  the  setting 
down  he  received,  and  for  the  remainder  of  the  day  a  more 
docile,  intelligent  fisherman  never  wielded  pole.  He  had 
after  all  acted  according  to  habit ;  upon  discovering  that  we 
understood  our  part  of  the  business  he  devoted  himself  to 
his  own.  I  believe  we  did  nothing  to  boast  of,  but  the  two 
rods,  in  a  day  of  six  hours,  produced  16  Ib.  of  honest  roach. 
The  fisherman  was  not  at  all  a  bad  fellow  when  we  came  to 
know  each  other,  but  he  had  been  spoiled  by  foolish 
customers,  and  required  to  be  kept  in  his  place. 

Fly-fishing  in  the  Thames,  though  the  pursuit  of  a  few,  is 
a  fascinating  and  not  unremunerative  method  of  dealing  with 
the  river.  Though  the  fly  is  doing  great  execution  amongst 
the  trout  compared  with  previous  years,  fly-fishing  in  the 
Thames  for  trout  alone  is  scarcely  worth  the  time  and 
trouble  it  involves.  Dace  and  chub  rise  freely,  and  in  the 
very  hot  evenings  of  July  and  August  roach  may  be  in- 
cluded. The  fly-fisher  is  independent  of  the  punt  and  the 
fisherman.  A  hired  boat  with  a  friend  to  manage  it  answers 
every  purpose.  Or  an  evening's  moderate  sport  may  be 
enjoyed  from  the  bank  if  you  understand  where  to  go. 

A  boatman's  boy  below  Ham  Lane  at  Richmond  with  a 
peeled  willow  wand,  a  length  of  twine,  and  a  small  black  gnat 
begged  from  some  passing  possessor  of  a  fly-book,  will, 
when  the  humour  takes  them,  whip  out  dace  with  every  cast. 
The  Thames  dace  never  runs  large— four  to  a  pound  being 


THE  THAMES.  57 

perhaps  under  rather  than  above  the  average  size.  He  is  a 
game,  handsome  little  fellow,  and  not  to  be  despised  as  a  table 
delicacy.  Learn  how  to  master  the  art  of  dace-fishing  with 
your  fly  rod,  and  you  have  graduated  to  a  full  trout  degree. 
Indeed,  a  quicker  eye  and  lighter  wrist  are  necessary  for 
dace.  The  thing  must  be  done  on  the  instant  if  at  ail. 
Should  you,  as  I  have  had  the  felicity  of  doing  in  the  Colne, 
find  the  fish  feeding  voraciously,  and  have  a  couple  of  bold 
half-pounders  on  your  line  at  once,  you  may  be  ready  to 
admit  that,  in  the  absence  of  trout,  dace  are  not  beneath  an 
experienced  man's  notice. 

Beginning  at  Ham  Lane,  and  whipping  your  way  to 
Teddington  (taking  care  always  to  secure  the  tide  at  its 
first  ebb),  will  afford  excellent  fun,  wind  and  weather  per- 
mitting. And  the  best  plan  is  to  use  a  short  line,  and, 
where  the  shallows  cease,  fish  close  under  the  bank.  The 
natives — men  in  fustian  and  smocks — with  the  rudest  of 
tackle,  generally  fish  down  the  stream,  casting  with  the 
left  hand ;  and  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  to  see  them  walk 
home  with  a  pocket-handkerchief  filled  with  fish  that  will 
make  an  ample  and  luxurious  meal  for  their  family. 

Chub  take  a  large  fly  well  in  the  Thames,  and  the  easiest 
road  to  their  good  graces  is  this  :  let  your  boat  drift  quietly 
with  the  stream — the  slower  the  better — about  a  dozen  or 
fifteen  yards  from  the  bushes  under  which  the  chub  are 
known  to  congregate,  and  parallel  with  the  bank.  Use  a 
large  black  or  red  palmer;  drop  it  upon  the  boughs,  and 
thence  seductively  into  the  water ;  and  it  will  warm  your 
heart  to  see  how  heartily  the  lumbering  chevens  rush  to 
their  destruction.  Beware  of  the  first  bolt.  Here,  as 
everywhere  else,  it  is  the  pace  that  kills.  "  Let  him  go  " — 


58  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

that  is  always  serviceable  advice  for  an  angler,  although,  in 
this  instance,  I  must  add  a  reservation.  Let  the  chub  not 
go  into  the  bank  or  under  the  roots  of  a  tree;  should  he 
accomplish  that,  invariably  his  first  impulse,  the  chances  are 
fifty-two  and  a  quarter  to  one  in  his  favour.  The  chub, 
nevertheless,  is  a  chicken-hearted  brute.  He  soon  gives  up 
the  fight,  and  comes  in,  log-like,  without  a  grumble. 


PRACTICAL  NOTES  ON  ROACH,  DACE,  AND  GUDGEON 
FISHING. 

I  have  selected  these  three  well-known  white  fish  for  such 
few  practical,  remarks  as  may  be  made  to  supplement  the 
foregoing  chapter  because  they  are  best  known  to  Thames 
anglers,  especially  such  amateurs  as  in  the  summer  months 
make  angling  a  peg  upon  which  to  hang  a  water  picnic,  and 
because  they  are  "the  masses"  of  the  Thames  population. 
Barbel,  chub,  and  bream  will  be  treated  of  in  a  subsequent 
•chapter. 

Roach  soon  clean  themselves  in  the  Thames,  and 
scarcely  ever  fail  the  angler  who  fishes  for  them  with  dili- 
gence and  care.  To  do  this  the  finest  tackle  is  necessary, 
and  drawn  gut  is  now  made  considerably  finer  than  the  old- 
fashioned  single  hair.  The  strong  probabilities  of  a  lusty 
barbel,  however,  seldom  allow  of  the  finest  tackle  being 
employed,  and  in  the  Thames  this  is  seldom  so  essential  as 
in  bank  fishing,  where  the  current  is  weaker  and  more  even. 
We  have  long  since  got  over  the  notion  that  the  roach  is  a 
sheepish  fish  that  any  schoolboy  may  take.  A  skilful 
roach-fisher  is  not  made  in  a  day,  and  of  a  hundred  anglers 
taken  at  random  as  they  arrive  at  the  waterside  there  shall 


THE  THAMES.  59 

not  be  a  dozen  who  merit  the  title  of  really  skilful.  The 
Thames  roach  do  not  run  so  uniformly  large  as  those  of  the 
Colne,  but  they  are  more  numerous. 

The  London  angler,  when  bank  fishing,  insists  upon  a 
long  rod,  a  few  inches  of  line  only  above  the  float,  and  no 
running  tackle.  When  the  fish  are  feeding  timidly  this  ap- 
paratus will  have  an  advantage  over  the  longer  line,  shorter 
rod,  and  winch;  but  is  it  an  advantage  that  compensates 
for  the  arm-ache  and  constant  unshipping  of  the  joints  that 
are  inseparable  from  the  system?  I  opine  not,  and  I  have 
seen  first-rate  roach  anglers  who  would  agree  with  me. 

Where  the  stream  is  swift,  frequent  ground  baiting  is  an 
absolute  necessity,  but  under  other  conditions,  balls  walnut 
instead  of  dumpling  size  should  be  used.  Many  a  roach 
angler  ruins  his  chances  by  overdoing  the  ground  bait. 
Look  after  the  material  the  professional  fisherman  prepares 
for  you,  lest  lumps  of  white  bread  be  concealed  in  the  bran. 
Brandlings  are  a  bad  bait  for  roach ;  large  lobworms  in  the 
winter  often  take  the  largest  fish.  The  paternoster  at  such 
times  will  answer  for  both  perch  and  roach.  Houseflies 
sunk  to  midwater  in  hot  weather  are  killing ;  artificial  flies, 
small  and  finely  tied,  when  the  July  sun  declines  will  some- 
times answer  well,  and  when  they  do  answer  the  sport  may 
be  continuous.  Roach,  however,  are  very  capricious  with 
the  fly.  The  roach,  when,  say,  a  third  of  a  pound  in  weight 
and  river  fed,  makes  a  good  dish  of  fried  meat,  and  at  some 
of  the  Thames  angling  inns  the  practised  landlady  can, 
out  of  the  humble  fish  which  most  cookery  books  simply 
ignore,  and  to  which  others  refer  with  disdain,  perform  a 
culinary  triumph,  making  the  soft  firm,  and  the  insipid 
passing  sweet. 


60  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

The  dace,  or  dare,  is  a  bolder,  as  he  is  a  handsomer,  fish 
than  the  roach.  Though  less  warmly  coloured,  and  lacking 
the  carmine  fins  which  make  the  autumn  roach  a  picture 
worthy  of  Rolfe's  masterly  pencil,  he  is  thicker,  rounder, 
and  in  appearance  makes  up  in  silver  his  deficiency  of  gold. 
When  "on  the  feed"  the  dace  bites  almost  as  sharply  as  a 
perch,  and  as  he  loves  rapid  currents  gives  you  even  in 
bottom-fishing  infinitely  better  sport  than  his  broader-sided 
relative. 

Wherever  dace  are  found  the  fly-fisher  has  the  elements 
of  practice.  From  May  to  October,  in  warm  weather,  the 
dace  rises  respectably  to  a  neatly  thrown  fly  and  the  finest 
tackle  possible  to  secure,  and  requires  careful  handling 
before  brought  to  the  net.  Look  for  him  upon  gravelly 
shallows,  and  never  give  up  the  trial  without  using  a  dry 
floating  fly.  It  is  almost  useless  to  fish  deep  water  with  a 
fly  at  any  time  of  the  year,  and  the  Thames  is  not,  by  reason 
of  its  little  broken  or  shallow  water,  so  good  a  dace  river  as 
the  Colne  or  Trent.  From  the  Colne  I  have  seen  i61b. 
of  handsome  fish,  averaging  three  to  the  pound,  caught  with 
a  small  governor  fly  in  the  course  of  a  day. 

The  dace  is  to  my  mind  the  best  eating  fish  of  the  tribe. 
Carefully  boned  and  baked  in  a  jar,  with  alternate  layers  of 
spice,  bay-leaves,  and  vinegar,  a  dish  of  dace  was  once 
palmed  off  upon  me  with  complete  success  as  a  secret  and 
rare  delicacy.  Pickling,  after  the  manner  of  fresh  herrings, 
in  an  open  baking  dish,  is  also  a  good  method.  It  is  very 
essential  with  roach  and  dace  to  dry  them  carefully  before 
cooking.  An  enormous  quantity  of  dace  is  sold  in  London 
during  the  Jewish  fasts,  for  the  table. 

The  gudgeon  is  a  beautifully-marked  little  fish,  and  seems 


THE  THAMES.  61 

to  be  always  in  season.  Its  prolific  nature  entitles  it  to  be 
termed  the  rabbit  of  fresh  water,  for  there  can  be  little  doubt 
it  spawns  two  or  three  times  a  year.  Wiped  very  dry, 
enveloped  with  egg  and  breadcrumbs,  fried  crisp  and  brown, 
dashed  with  lemon  juice,  and  eaten  with  brown  bread  and 
butter,  it  is  renowned  on  the  Continent  as  a  delicious  morsel, 
and,  as  all  who  have  eaten  it  in  that  condition  must  admit, 
is  well  worthy  of  its  high  reputation.  Moreover,  it  is  easy  of 
capture,  and  the  lightest  and  cleanest  form  of  bottom-fishing. 
Thus  gudgeon-fishing  on  the  Thames  is  a  favourite  pastime 
with  ladies,  who 

"  Feast  on  the  water  with  the  prey  they  take  : 
At  once  victorious,  with  their  lines  and  eyes 
They  make  the  fishes  and  the  men  their  prize." 

In  running  water  it  is  unnecessary  to  use  a  float,  for  the 
.gudgeon  grubs  on  the  ground  like  the  barbel,  which  it  some- 
what resembles,  and  may  be  followed  with  the  stream,  the 
line  shotted  according  to  circumstances.  At  Tempsford,  on 
the  Ouse,  I  was  once  given  as  a  pike  bait  a  gudgeon  seven 
inches  long.  Four  inches,  however,  is  over  the  average 
length,  and  three-inch  fish  are  quite  large  enough  for  the 
table. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  HOLIDAY  IN  DEVONSHIRE. 

"  Fair  are  the  provinces  that  England  boasts, 
Lovely  the  verdure,  exquisite  the  flowers 
That  bless  her  hills  and  dales, — her  streamlets  clear, 
Her  seas  majestic,  and  her  prospects  all, 
Of  old,  as  now,  the  pride  of  British  song. 

But  England  sees  not  on  her  charming  map 
A  goodlier  spot  than  our  fine  Devon  ; — rich 
Art  thou  in  all  that  Nature's  hand  can  give, 
Land  of  the  matchless  view !  " 

DEVONSHIRE,  stealing  into  one's  thoughts  in  the  hot,  un- 
resting City,  brings  delicious  suggestions.  Amidst  the  dust 
of  the  desert  it  is  the  dream  of  a  land  flowing  with  milk  and 
honey.  The  overworked  man  looks  forward  to  its  green 
lanes  and  luxuriant  meads,  to  its  cool  darkened  woods  and 
refreshing  streams,  with  a  grateful  sense  of  coming  rest  and 
freedom.  Other  counties  have  their  special  nooks  and 
corners  famed  for  picturesqueness  and  noted  as  the  beaten 
track  of  tourists ;  large  though  it  be,  there  is  no  other 
county  in  England  bearing  in  its  entirety  so  excellent  a 
general  character  as  fruitful  Devon. 

Announce  that  you  are  going  down  into  Devonshire,  and 
you  have  said  enough.  No  one  asks  to  what  particular 
district  you  are  shaping  your  course  :  so  long  as  it  is  Devon- 
shire you  must  perforce  enjoy  yourself.  Does  it  not  possess 
a  soft,  warm  coast  of  surpassing  loveliness,  where  the  myrtle 


A  HOLIDAY  IN  DEVONSHIRE.  63 

flourishes  in  mid-winter  ?  Has  it  not  gentle  lowlands  and 
bleak  highlands  ?  Does  it  not  rise  into  open-browed  moors 
that  catch  the  earliest  snows,  and  sink  into  valleys  seques- 
tered from  the  storms  and  turmoils  that  roughen  the  rest  of 
the  world  ? 

These  thoughts  were  not  unwelcome  as  I  stood  apart 
from  the  shifting,  bustling  throng  at  Paddington  terminus, 
mounting  guard  over  creel  and  rods,  until  the  express  was 
ready  to  whisk  me  through  the  night  to  Plymouth.  The 
confusion  and  bustle  of  this  station,  immortalised  in  Frith's 
picture,  were  positively  soothing  to  the  Devonshire-bound 
passenger,  for  the  contrast  between  the  fleeting  present 
and  the  immediate  future  was  a  whetstone  to  the  edge  of 
anticipation.  So,  let  porters  and  grooms  rush  hither  and 
thither,  ladies  appeal  in  perplexing  chorus  to  the  officials, 
and  testy  gentlemen  rage  and  scold — what  mattered  ?  To- 
morrow I  should  be  knee-deep  in  west  country  clover,  my 
flies  would  be  sailing  down  Devonshire  streams,  and  for  a 
whole  week,  behold,  London  should  know  me  no  more. 
The  greater  the  hubbub  around,  the  more  placid  I. 

It  was  a  long  ride  in  prospect,  for  Reading,  Bath,  Bristol, 
Taunton,  Exeter,  and  Plymouth  had  to  pass  in  review  ere  I 
could  exchange  the  iron  horse  for  that  more  primitive 
carrier  through  whose  good  offices  I  hoped  by  to-morrow's 
noon  to  climb  up  into  the  free  air  of  Dartmoor.  It  was  the 
ist  of  June,  a  date  of  no  significance  to  ordinary  mortals, 
though  a  red-letter  day  to  the  London  angler.  Wherefore, 
though  perchance  I  should  sleep  by-and-by,  it  must  not  be 
until  I  had  caught  such  glimpses  as  time  would  permit  of 
the  stations  along  the  Thames.  The  Great  Western  is 
the  angler's  line  par  excellence.  The  Colne,  the  Thames, 


64  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

the  Loddon,  the  Kennet,  with  their  numerous  feeders,  are 
brought  nearer  and  nearer  to  us  as  the  powerful  railway 
company,  like  an  insatiable  ogre,  every  year  sweeps  in- 
creasing territory  within  its  capacious  maw. 

In  a  brief  space  of  time  the  train  was  at  West  Drayton, 
where  the  mellow  fading  sunlight  slanted  across  the 
Thorney  Broad  water,  and  revealed  on  the  willow-lined 
banks  rods  flashing  like  bayonets.  In  a  few  minutes  we 
crossed  the  narrow  Iver,  with  just  a  glimpse,  through  the 
elms  up  the  meadows,  of  the  bridge,  by  which  doubtless 
lay  trout,  over  which  since  the  first  day  of  the  season 
many  a  fly  had  been  thrown.  At  Slough  there  might  be 
seen  upon  the  up  platform  a  small  contingent  of  return- 
ing anglers  who  had  been  honouring  the  ist  of  June  on 
the  Thames  at  Eton.  These  were  for  the  most  part  gay 
parties  of  young  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  had  been  com- 
bining a  large  measure  of  picnicing  with  a  soup$on  of  ang- 
ling ;  who  had  been,  in  short,  using  the  rod  and  line  as  a 
justification  for  and  aid  to  flirtation.  It  was  at  Maiden- 
head, Taplow,  Reading,  and  the  higher  stations  the  real 
anglers  were  to  be  found ;  there  they  clustered,  leaning 
tired  on  their  rods,  recounting  their  day's  experiences. 
And  soon,  the  last  bit  of  gold  having  been  extracted  by 
greedy  nightfall  from  the  sky,  it  was  meet  to  settle  cosily 
into  the  corner  to  doze,  and  see  visions  of  speckled  trout 
and  silvery  salmon. 

The  Dart,  with  whose  upper  waters  I  proposed  to  make 
intimate  acquaintance  with  all  speed,  is  crossed  by  the 
South  Devon  line  at  Totnes,  and  I  had  an  opportunity  of 
reconnoitring  it  at  unexpected  and  unusual  leisure.  A 
deep  sleep  had  sealed  our  eyelids  as  we  ran  down  close  to 


A  HOLIDAY  IN  DEVONSHIRE.  65 

the  estuary  of  the  Exe  and  skirted  the  sea  wall  at  Dawlish 
and  Teignmouth ;  but  we  by-and-by  became  conscious  of 
something  uncommon,  and  awoke  to  find  the  train  brought 
to  a  standstill  in  the  midst  of  the  purest  country  sur- 
roundings. 

An  hour  or  two  before  a  luggage  train  had  wrecked,  and 
our  passage  was  now  stopped.  In  the  freshness  of  the 
balmy  morning  we  had — men,  women,  and  children — to 
tumble  out  of  the  carriages,  and  struggle  with  bag  and 
baggage  through  a  couple  of  fields,  across  a  country  lane, 
and  up  a  high  bank  of  nettles  and  brambles,  to  a  train'com- 
posed  of  odds  and  ends  of  rolling  stock,  hastily  constructed 
and  despatched  from  Totnes.  The  ruined  engine,  getting 
off  the  line,  had  plunged  madly  into  a  field,  torn  up  the 
earth  a  yard  deep,  and  finally  capsized,  exhausted  and 
smashed  and  twisted  into  a  marvellous  variety  of  fantastic 
forms.  We  arrived  at  last,  fishing  impedimenta  and  all,  at 
our  improvised  train,  panting,  and  with  boots  well  yellowed 
by  the  buttercups.  Being  less  than  a  mile  from  Totnes,  I 
deserted  my  fellow  passengers,  left  the  few  labourers  who 
could  be  hastily  gathered  together  transferring  Her  Ma- 
jesty's mails  and  the  contents  of  the  luggage  van  to  the 
new  train,  and  strolled  on  towards  Totnes,  where  the 
stoker  of  the  hapless  engine  lay  on  a  death-bed  of  ex- 
cruciating agony.  The  sun,  newly  risen,  shone  upon  this 
singular  picture  of  wreck  and  confusion  in  a  frame  of  rural 
fertility,  and  the  sleek  Devon  herds  and  a  few  open- 
mouthed  rustics  looked  on  in  astonishment  at  the  novel 
occurrence  which  had  taken  place  amongst  their  promising 
orckards  and  richly- cropped  fields. 

The  Dart  at  Totnes  is  a  very  sober-minded  river.     That 


66  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

morning  not  a  breath  of  wind  ruffled  its  greenish  waters,, 
and  a  couple  of  troutlets  a  hundred  yards  up  stream,  gently 
rising  at  a  frisky  midge,  covered  the  whole  surface  with 
concentric  circles.  The  trees  and  bushes  in  full  leaf  were 
repeated  in  the  glassy  water.  North  and  south  alike,  the 
scenery  is  of  the  most  fascinating  description  even  here,, 
where  the  Dart,  having  pursued  its  devious  way  from 
distant  uplands,  seems  to  pause  for  a  brief  interval  of  re- 
pose and  thought  before  entering  upon  that  magnificent, 
sweeping,  more  dignified  course  through  the  South  Hams 
to  the  sea  at  Dartmouth.  The  Devonshire  people  are 
proud  to  hear  the  Dart  designated  "The  Rhine  of  the 
West,"  and  no  unprejudiced  voyager  who  has  taken 
steamer  from  the  ancient  town  of  Totnes  to  the  almost 
equally  old  seaport  of  Dartmouth  will  deny  that  the  name 
is  deservedly  applied. 

It  is  doubtless  a  very  ill  wind  that  blows  good  to  no- 
body, and  our  delay  had  given  me,  at  least,  the  oppor- 
tunity of  taking  a  leisurely  look  at  the  landscape.  The 
railway  guards  and  porters  did  their  best  to  remedy  the 
mishap ;  and  in  a  surprisingly  short  space  of  time  we  were 
once  more  en  route  through  the  finest  part  of  pastoral 
Devon.  Every  new  prospect  proves  that  it  would  be 
almost  impossible  to  praise  it  too  highly.  The  great 
officers  of  State  take  the  Viceroys,  Sultans,  Shahs,  and 
Czars  of  the  earth  to  see  our  soldiers  and  guns,  our  forts 
and  ships,  our  densely  populated  centres ;  but  who  ever 
heard  of  their  being  brought  down  into  this  Eden  ?  Surely 
here  was  an  aspect  of  the  nation's  life  in  which  some,  and 
not  a  little,  of  its  strength  was  indicated  ! 

But  who  cared  for  emperors   and  kings?     Here  came 


A  HOLIDAY  IN  DEVONSHIRE.  67 

South  Brent,  and  running  through  it,  with  a  bridge  across, 
another  Dartmoor-born  stream/ the  Avon.  Now  I  might 
form  a  pretty  correct  opinion  upon  the  state  of  the  rivers 
I  had  travelled  so  far  to  fish.  For  six  weeks  there  had 
been  no  rain,  and  very  ill  reports  of  the  rivers  of  the  three 
kingdoms  had  been  troubling  the  Waltonian  world.  The 
Avon  was  not  encouraging;  it  was  so  reduced  in  volume 
that  it  was  difficult  to  see  where  there  was  room  for  a  trout, 
and  throwing  a  fly  into  those  mere  saucers  which  now  re- 
presented the  best  pools  was  out  of  the  question.  It  was, 
one  had  to  confess  with  sorrowful  misgiving,  a  hopeless 
prospect,  unless  the  banks  of  clouds  brooding  over  the 
moors  would  come  to  the  rescue  and  unlock  their  long- 
sealed  fountains.  Anxiously  I  waited  till  a  few  miles  far- 
ther we  crossed  the  Erme  at  Ivy  Bridge.  The  Erme  con- 
firmed the  dismal  story  told  by  the  Avon.  The  stones  in 
the  rocky  bed  shone  with  the  unwetted  smoothness  of  a 
long  drought.  Although  it  might  be  better  nearer  the 
source,  I  began  to  wish  that  the  creel,  capable  of  stowing 
away  i81b.  of  fish,  had  been  left  at  home.  Nasmyth 
hammers  were  not  made  to  crack  eggs. 

But  the  woods  were  leafy,  the  air  was  charged  with  the 
scent  of  hawthorn  blossom,  the  landscapes  Were  magnificent, 
and  if  the  worst  must  be  endured,  there  would  in  all  this  be 
a  certain  compensation  for  an  empty  basket. 

"  Nature  never  did  betray 
The  heart  that  loved  her ;  'tis  her  privilege 
Through  all  the  years  of  this  our  life,  to  lead 
From  joy  to  joy." 

Still,  remembering  how  the  Erme  and  Avon  in  their 
average  condition  tumbled  and  swirled  and  gambolled  from 


68  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

rock  to  rock,  and  beholding  their  present  melancholy  dead 
level,  it  was  but  too  true  that  just  a  trifle  of  sunshine  seemed 
to  have  departed.  Would  the  Yealrn,  yet  another  of  the 
Dartmoor  brood,  dispel  the  cloud  ?  Two  or  three  miles 
further,  and  lo,  the  Yealm  coincided  with  its  sister  streams. 
My  only  consolation  was  that  in  the  same  carriage  journeyed 
to  South  Brent  a  young  gentleman  who  was  in  worse  plight 
than  myself:  three  salmon  rods,  a  huge  wooden-framed 
landing  net,  fit  receptacle  for  a  shark ;  wading  apparatus, 
gaffs,  and  an  outfit  generally  that  would  stock  a  tackle- 
maker's  shop,  he  had  brought  with  him  from  town ;  and 
certainly  he  looked  the  picture  of  misery  when  I  showed 
him  the  sort  of  brook  upon  which  his  costly  machinery  was 
to  be  exercised. 

The  valley  traversed  by  the  Tavistock  Railway,  to  which 
at  Plymouth  we  were  transferred,  is  not  to  be  surpassed,  if 
indeed  equalled,  in  this  country  for  sustained  sylvan  beauty. 
I  know  of  nothing  to  compare  with  it  but  the  grand  wooded 
slopes  that  keep  you  awake  with  surprise  and  admiration 
between  Dieppe  and  Rouen.  If  the  Plym  valley  be  not  so 
wide  as  that  charming  portion  of  fertile  Normandy,  its  trees 
are  larger  and  more  numerous.  Lord  Morley's  property  at 
Saltram  is  the  beginning  of  a  stretch  of  woody  hillside  that 
continues  with  unbroken  picturesqueness  for  miles.  Such 
beeches,  elms,  ashes,  sycamores,  aspens,  firs,  maples,  and 
oaks  seldom  indeed  are  to  be  looked  upon  from  the  windows 
of  a  railway  carriage. 

A  few  local  anglers,  who,  it  cheered  the  despondent 
stranger  to  think,  would  not  have  ventured  forth  unless  there 
had  been  some  chance  of  sport,  got  out  at  Bickleigh,  and 
descended  through  the  foliage  towards  the  Plym,  there 


A  HOLIDAY  IN  DEVONSHIRE.  69 

almost  hidden  by  over-spreading  branches  and  bushy  under- 
growth. Higher  up,  losing  themselves  in  the  Plym,  are  the 
Heavy  and  the  Cad — the  Cad  of  which  Carrington,  the  poet 
of  the  Devonshire  waters,  wrote  : — 

"  Yet  when,  sweet  Spring, 
Thy  influence  again  shall  make  the  bud 
Leap  into  leaf,  and  gentlest  airs  shall  soothe 
The  storm-swept  bosom  of  the  moor,  my  feet 
Shall  tread  the  banks  of  Cad." 

Both  Heavy  and  Cad  are  good  trout-yielding  streams 
when  the  conditions  are  anything  like  favourable,  but  at  this 
time  they  suffered  more  perhaps  than  any  from  lack  of  water. 
Onward  and  upward  still,  through  new  phases  of  entrancing 
scenery,  the  train  proceeded  to  Horrabridge,  where  we 
crossed  the  Walkham,  now  no  longer  the  popular  trout 
stream  it  used  to  be  ;  for  here  unfortunately,  as  in  other 
parts  of  Devon  and  Cornwall,  the  mines  had  been  doing 
serious  damage. 

Tavistock,  compact  and  thriving,  lies  in  a  natural  basin, 
surrounded  by  a  belt  of  hills;  where  Dartmoor  ends  the 
Cornish  hills  continue  the  duty  of  encircling  the  town,  and 
dooming  it  to  more  than  a  full  share  of  wet  weather.  The 
Tavy  runs  through  it;  and  later  in  the  year,  when  the 
salmon  peel  are  in  their  prime,  there  is  no  river  in  the 
country  that  yields  better  morning  and  evening  sport.  A 
well-organised  fishing  association  preserves  the  stream,  its 
tributaries  and  sub-tributaries ;  and  under  one  of  its  wise 
regulations  the  angler  below  Denham  Bridge  is  restricted 
to  the  use  of  the  artificial  fly.  It  is  in  these  associations 
the  hope  of  preserving  our  English  fisheries  chiefly  rests ; 
wherefore,  let  every  angler,  whenever  he  has  the  opportunity 


;o  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

of  acting  as  an  amateur  water-bailiff,  do  his  best  to  enforce 
their  laws. 

Eminently  clean  and  respectable  is  Tavistock,  on  the 
border-land  of  the  t\vo  great  western  counties.  Nay,  it 
is  quite  ecclesiastical  in  its'  staid  appearance.  There  is  an 
air  of  repose  within  its  borders  of  which  you  become  im- 
mediately sensible.  A  roMicking  blade  the  visitor  may  be 
in  London,  but  at  Tavistock  it  will  be  useless  to  struggle 
against  the  subduing  iniluences  around  him.  On  entering 
the  hotel  I  was  on  the  point  of  doffing  my  hat,  fancying  I 
was  on  the  threshold  of  a  church.  The  markets  had  all  the 
quietness  of  the  cloister ;  the  public  buildings  struck  me  as 
decidedly  smacking  of  the ''cathedral  style;  and  the  police 
went  their  rounds  with  a  verger-like  tread.  The  town,  cele- 
brated in  the  fifteenth  century  for  its  mitred  abbey,  would 
seem  to  have  cherished  to  the  present  day  its  ecclesiastical 
associations.  Some  remnants  of  the  time-worn  stone-work 
of  the  abbey  are  there,  in  keeping  with  the  spirit  of  serenity 
which  still  lingers  in  the  highways  and  byevvays.  Notwith- 
standing its  demureness  of  countenance,  Tavistock  is  a 
bright,  comfortable,  and  right  pleasant  spot  in  which  to  pitch 
one's  tent  \  furthermore,  it  is  a  central  spot  from  which  the 
angler  may  sally  in  many  directions  on  trouting  cares  intent. 

It  is  seven  miles  into  the  heart  of  Dartmoor,  and,  as  you 
will  speedily  discover,  seven  miles  pat  against  the  collar. 
He  who  is  able  to  ride  and  drive  safely  and  boldly  over 
Dartmoor  is  fit  to  take  a  horse  anywhere.  It  is  a  typical 
drive  from  Tavistock  to  Princetown,  for  it  affords  fair 
examples  of  many  peculiarities  of  the  moor.  Steadily 
ascending  from  the  lowlands,  the  atmosphere,  like  the- 
scenery,  gradually  changes.  For  the  first  mile  or  so  out  of 


A  HO  LID  A  Y  IN  DEVONSHIRE.  7 1 

Tavistock  I  noticed  the  foxgloves,  in  regular  red-coated 
battalions,  standing  at  ease  in  the  hedgerows,  while  all 
descriptions  of  flowers  were  blooming  in  the  profuse  natural 
ferneries  so  common  to  Devonshire  banks  and  woodlands. 
As  the  milestones  were  left  in  the  rear,  the  foxglove  bells 
became  less  open,  until  on  Dartmoor  they  had  not  begun  to 
expand  into  blossom.  Up  amongst  the  billowy  downs, 
blocks  of  granite,  wild  ravines,  shaggy  sheep,  and  brawling 
brooks,  we  followed  the  road,  now  this,  now  that  Tor 
challenging  attention.  Why  this  was  ever  called  the  Royal 
Forest  of  Dartmoor  it  is  hard  to  say,  although  the  bogs 
suggest  forests  primeval,  and  some  years  since  no  incon- 
siderable traces  of  tropical  trees  and  plants  were  discovered 
in  one  part  of  the  moors.  It  is  the  general  absence  of  .wood 
that  is  the  primary  characteristic  of  Dartmoor. 

But  then  the  place  is  a  puzzle  from  first  to  last.  The 
masses  of  granite,  cast,  apparently,  in  Titanic  volleys  out  of 
the  bowels  of  the  earth,  and  the  Tors  crowning  the  summits 
of  the  downs,  as  if  systematically  placed  there  for  specific 
purposes,  may  well  account  for  the  theories  and  supersti- 
tions and  dogmatisms  associated  from  time  immemorial 
with  them.  The  coachman — all  the  Devonshire  drivers  are 
civil  and  intelligent — pointed  out  the  various  objects  of 
interest  as  our  gallant  grey  plodded  upwards.  Pulling  up  at 
the  top  of  the  first  hill,  he  bade  me  look  behind.  Tavistock 
appeared  in  its  hollow  like  a  snug  bird's-nest.  Cornwall,  its 
hills  crowned  with  mine  shafts  instead  of  granitic  masses, 
confronted  us.  Far  away  over  the  end  of  a  long,  wooded 
valley,  and  sparkling  like  silver  beyond  the  radiant  woods, 
was  Plymouth  Sound.  Ahead  and  around  were  the  endless 
/risings  and  fallings  of  the  moor,  now  fresh  and  green ;  and 


72  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

the  sun,  fierce  overhead,  was  printing  cloud-pictures  upon 
their  broad  bosoms. 

I  sounded  a  halt  at  Merivale  Bridge,  spanning  one  of 
those  romantic  rocky^  glens  which  intersect  Dartmoor  at 
every  point.  The  Walkham,  not  yet  polluted  by  the  mines, 
passes  downwards  at  this  point.  It  is  a  good  sample  of  a 
Dartmoor  stream,  plashing  just  then  from  point  to  point  in 
a  quiet  musical  fashion,  the  banks  open  and  bare,  and  the 
water  clear_as  crystal.  It  was,  indeed,  so  clear  that  I  on 
the  spot  abandoned  my  original  intention  of  half  an  hour's 
fishing. 

Besides  there  was  other  game  on  foot.  A  number  of 
prison  warders  were  abroad  stalking  convicts.  Three  of 
the  wretches  had  escaped  in  a  sudden  fog  that,  enveloping 
the  moor  as  with  a  blanket  two  hours  before,  had  dis- 
appeared as  suddenly  as  it  came.  The  convicts  had  got 
away ;  two  of  them  had  been  shot  when  the  fog  lifted,  and 
the  warders  were  searching  for  the  third,  examining  every 
boulder,  every  peat  stack,  every  bit  of  ditch  and  bog. 
Nearer  Princetown  we  saw  the  warders  bearing  the  pro- 
strate runaway,  number  three,  to  the  convict  establishment, 
winged  with  a  bullet  from  a  carbine.  Princetown  is  most 
desirable  head-quarters  for  the  angler,  since  it  immediately 
commands  several  of  the  moorland  streams ;  and  there  is 
admirable  hotel  accommodation  for  man  and  beast  in  the 
place. 

To  fish  Dartmoor  properly  a  horse  is  necessary  for  a  man 
of  only  moderate  walking  powers,  and  if  he  be  fortunate 
enough  to  engage  for  the  term  of  his  stay  a  moorland  pony 
it  will  be  a  decided  advantage.  The  man  who  can  trudge 
fifteen  miles  a  day  may,  however,  consider  himself  inde- 


A  HOLIDAY  IN  DEVONSHIRE.  73 

pendent  of  anything  but  a  sensible  pair  of  boots,  and  it 
should  never  be  forgotten  that  there,  more  than  1,500  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea,  fatigue  is  seldom  felt  as  in  the 
lower  country.  There  is  a  comfortable  little  inn  at  Two 
Bridges,  about  two  miles  from  Princetown,  in  a  fine  situa- 
tion, and  close  to  the  West  Dart  and  its  tributary  the  Cow- 
sick. 

These  Dartmoor  streamlets,  it  may  be  convenient  here 
to  explain,  have  many,  indeed  most,  things  in  common. 
Besides  the  larger  streams  there  are,  I  believe,  fifty  brooks 
abounding  in  trout,  but  of  them  all  these  conclusions  may 
be  taken  for  granted : — the  trout  are  remarkably  small, 
delicious  eating,  and  so  plentiful  that  one  is  almost  afraid 
to  mention  the  undoubted  "  takes  "  that,  with  suitable  water 
and  wind,  may  be  expected.  As  I  had  feared  when  once  I 
had  surveyed  the  chances  from  the  railway  carriage,  my 
visit  to  Dartmoor,  as  a  mere  matter  of  fins  and  tails,  was 
not  profitable.  The  water  had  not  been  so  low  in  the 
memory  of  our  dear  useful  friend  the  oldest  inhabitant ;  it 
was  offensively  pellucid;  and,  to  make  bad  worse,  the 
wind  blew  either  north-east  or  not  at  all.  Slimy  weeds  had 
accumulated  in  the  pools,  and  nothing  but  a  tremendous 
freshet  would  clear  them. 

Still  with  these  overwhelming  disadvantages,  to  which  a 
bright  sun  may  be  added,  and  fishing,  as  on  the  last  day 
(of  course)  I  found,  with  not  the  most  appropriate  flies,  it 
was  easy  to  take  an  average  of  two  dozen  each  day,  and  I 
might  have  basketed  double  that  quantity  on  the  first  day 
had  I  known  how  small  it  was  the  custom  to  take  them. 
The  fish  were  verily  Liliputian,  even  smaller  than  Welsh 
trout.  One  fellow  weighed  close  upon  half  a  pound,  but 


74  ATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

that  seemed  of  mammoth  proportions  amongst  its  brethren, 
and  a  three  or  four  ounce  trout  was  considered  by  the 
Devonians  a  highly  respectable  moorland  fish.  It  is  a  well 
known  rule  in  angling  that  when  the  small  fish  feed  greedily 
the  large  ones  do  not  move,  and  vice  versd;  and  the  small 
•ones  had  the  ill  taste  to  be  in  the  ascendant  on  my  visit  to 
Dartmoor. 

The  bulk  of  the  trout  were  about  the  dimensions  of 
sprats,  and  these  on  the  first  day  I  in  my  ignorance  re- 
turned to  the  water.  Three  or  four,  however,  injured  be- 
yond redemption  by  the  steel,  went  to  the  cook  with  what 
I  deemed  to  be  the  sizeable  fish.  At  dinner  I  made  a  dis- 
covery. The  Dartmoor  troutlets  are  the  best  flavoured  and 
sweetest  eating  fish  it  was  ever  my  good  fortune  to  taste. 
You  devour,  or  rather  scrunch,  them,  body,  bones,  and  head  ; 
the  much-lauded  whitebait  are  inferior  to  them.  A  Ply- 
mouth friend  afterwards  told  me  that  parties  of  gourmands 
frequently  make  expeditions  to  Princetown  for  the  sake  of 
-a  dish  of  petite  truite.  The  quarter-pounders,  though  not  to 
be  despised,  are  at  table  less  delicate  than  the  symmetrical, 
energetic  little  things  that  at  first  so  trouble  the  angler's 
conscience.  A  trout  breakfast  at  the  Duchy  Hotel  at 
Princetown,  within  sight  of  miles  of  moor  rolling  outwards 
to  the  horizon,  is  a  treat  to  be  often  repeated ;  or  if  at 
luncheon  time  in  the  West  Dart  Valley  you  look  in  at  the 
Two  Bridges  Inn,  and  selecting  a  dozen  of  the  smallest  fish 
from  your  basket,  hand  them  over  to  the  landlady,  the 
chances  are  that  twelve  tiny  tails  alone  will  be  left  witness 
to  your  appetite. 

I  do  not  wonder  at  the  fuss  made  a  few  years  since  about 
.the  convicts'  diet ;  Dartmoor  has  a  special  facility  for  making 


A  HOLIDAY  IN  DEVONSHIRE.  75 

a  man  wolfishly  hungry.  Pick-me-ups  are  unknown  in  that 
village  of  stone,  Princetown,  where  the  houses,  probably  out 
of  respect  to  the  convict  establishment,  do  not  rise  above 
the  severest  rules  of  architecture. 

Four,  five,  and  six  dozen  of  trout  are  no  uncommon  result 
of  a  day's  persevering  and  intelligent  angling  on  the  moors. 
An  old  man,  whom  I  had  no  reason  whatever  to  doubt — 
for  similar  statements  were  made  to  me  by  others — assured 
me  that  he  once  caught  fifteen  dozen  in  eight  hours.  This 
assertion  will  probably  take  away  the  breath  of  the  in- 
credulous heretic  who  shrugs  his  shoulders  and  drops  the 
corners  of  his  mouth  at  any  record  of  rod  and  line  work  ; 
but  with  very  exceptional  luck,  or  perhaps  it  should  be  said 
through  a  combination  of  fortunate  circumstances,  such  an 
•enviable  capture  is  quite  possible  on  the  Dartmoor  streams. 
Of  course  it  will  not  often  occur,  and  five  or  six  dozen  is  the 
total  which  under  ordinary  conditions  should  give  complete 
satisfaction,  and  send  the  angler  home  in  good  humour  with 
himself,  his  tackle,  the  water,  the  weather — and,  in  short, 
the  world  at  large. 

Not  even  accidentally  would  I  wish  to  do  an  injustice  to 
the  bonny  watercourses  of  Dartmoor.  I  am  far  too  much  ena- 
moured of  them  to  be  guilty  of  so  flagrant  a  crime,  and  on 
this  account  I  would  introduce  a  marginal  clause  touching 
the  size  of  their  finny  habitants.  After  a  flood  you  are 
never  quite  certain  what  will  be  tempted  by  the  fly.  Salmon 
are  every  year  known  to  push  their  way  up  into  the  moor, 
and  are  seen  in  pools  reachable  by  threadlike  channels 
which  to  an  unpractised  eye  contain  scarce  water  sufficient 
to  cover  a  fish.  Large  trout  of  two  and  three  pounds  weight 
are  sometimes  found  when  the  water  is  clearing,  but  these 


76  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

are  casual  visitors  never  to  be  calculated  upon.  Late  in  the 
season  the  brooks  swarm  with  salmon  fry  which  worry  the 
fisherman  by  their  voracity.  There  are,  or  might  be,  plenty 
of  salmon  in  the  Devonshire  rivers.  At  Tavistock  I  saw  a 
report  just  sent  in  from  the  lower  waters  of  the  Tavy  and 
Tamar  setting  forth  that  salmon  and  trout  had  never  been 
seen  in  more  abundance  than  during  that  season  (1874),  but 
that  the  mines  were  playing  havoc  with  the  water. 

The  Dartmoor  streams  should  always  be  fished  upwards. 
Their  direction  being,  roughly  speaking,  from  north  to 
south,  this  course  is  the  easiest  as  well  as  the  best  to  pursue 
when  the  wind  sits  in  the  right  quarter  for  piscatorial  pur- 
suits. It  will  save  time  and  trouble  to  lay  in  a  stock  of  flies 
at  Plymouth  or  Tavistock.  If  one  could  make  sure  of 
finding  that  infallible  native  who  generally  lurks  somewhere 
near  the  waterside,  and  who  manufactures  flies  more  killing 
and  more  natural  than  the  living  insect,  he  is  the  man  to  buy 
from  ;  but  it  may  happen  that  the  worthy  is  not  to  be  found, 
and  life  is  too  short  to  waste  a  day  in  unearthing  him  while 
the  fish  are  eagerly  rising.  The  flies  at  both  Tavistock  and 
Plymouth  are  excellent,  and  the  shopkeepers  thoroughly 
understand  Dartmoor,  and  will  give  the  customer  honest 
advice  as  to  the  streams. 

The  knowing  ones  in  Devonshire  never  use  winged  flies, 
and  many  of  the  most  successful  fishermen  go  through  the 
season  with,  at  the  outside,  not  more  than  half  a  dozen 
different  hackles.  Of  these,  the  essentials  are  a  blue  upright, 
a  red  or  red-and-black  palmer,  and  a  black  fly,  which  for 
convenience  sake  we  may  also  call  a  palmer.  The  coch-a- 
bondhu  is  not  amiss,  and  there  is  a  gaudy  little  fly  called  the 
Meavy  Red,  which  kills  well  on  the  Meavy.  A  small  golden 


A  HOLIDAY  IN  DEVONSHIRE. 

palmer,  used  for  grayling  in  the  Wharfe,  and  given  me  a 
year  before  by  its  author,  a  keeper  at  Bolton  Abbey,  found 
me  a  couple  of  brace  of  trout  in  the  Double  Dart  when  the 
local  flies  utterly  failed;  and  on  the  same  stream  I  met 
a  youthful  rustic  with  a  dozen  and  a  half  of  nice  fish  (say 
averaging  four  ounces),  taken  against  law,  of  course,  with  a 
live  "vern-web,"  by  which  name  the  fern-fly  is  known  in 
those  parts. 

The  upper  streams  being  very  small  and  broken,  the 
artificial  flies  used  are,  as  is  not  uncommon  in  mountain 
streams,  much  larger  than  could  be  ventured  upon  in 
broader  and  deeper  rivers  whose  flow  is  more  placid.  It  is 
only  once  now  and  then  that  the  Dartmoor  angler  encum- 
bers himself  with  wading  materials  or  landing  net.  A 
cheap  day  ticket  may  be  purchased  at  the  DiTchy  Hotel, 
entitling  the  holder  to  fish  any  or  all  of  the  Dartmoor 
streams.  The  Mayfly  is  a  rare  visitor,  if  not  a  complete 
stranger,  to  Dartmoor,  and  I  complete  my  catalogue  of 
items  by  a  bare  reference  to  Cherrybrook,  which  is  a  very 
favourite  stream,  and  which  is  probably  the  only  one  in 
England  that  may  be  fished  in  a  north-east  wind. 

Beginning  at  Two  Bridges,  fish  the  West  Dart  to  the  spot 
where  the  East  Dart,  amidst  beautiful  wooded  scenery,  joins. 
In  the  higher  land,  far  above  the  meeting  of  the  waters  (Dart- 
meet),  the  two  Darts  run  through  unadulterated  moorland  ; 
no  bushes  take  a  mean  advantage  of  your  carelessness,  no 
trees  are  near.  The  outlook,  if  it  were  not  so  picturesque  in 
its  wild  ruggedness,  would  be  inexpressibly  dreary ;  and 
to  many  visitors  very  likely  Dartmoor  is  a  howling  wilder- 
ness, fit  only  for  convicts,  anglers,  lunatics  and — artists.  It 


78  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

is  a  merciful  dispensation  of  Providence  that  all  men  do  not 
soe  with  the  same  eyes.  When,  years  gone  by,  we  had 
prisoners  of  war  who  were  confined  at  Dartmoor  (the  con- 
vict establishment  was  built  for  that"  purpose),  a  French 
writer  described  it  as  a  terrible  Siberia,  covered  with 
unmelting  snow. 

"When  the  snows  go  away,"  he  added,  "the  mists 
appear." 

In  the  desolation  of  winter  Dartmoor  is  naturally  not  so 
pleasant  as  Torquay  or  Brighton.  In  summer,  spite  of 
the  frequent  mist,  the  Frenchman's  description  must  not  be 
entertained,  for  then  the  heather  is  everywhere  abloom  ;  the 
graceful  ferns  fondly  sweep  the  edges  of  the  great  grey  rock's ; 
the  foot  sinks  into  an  elastic  velvet  pile  of  moss,  herbage, 
and  alpine  plants  ;  the  distant  coppices  catch  and  hold  the 
shadows  of  the  clouds  in  the  trembling  tree-tops ;  the 
colours  of  earth  and  sky  imperceptibly  change  and  blend 
morn,  noon,  and  night ;  the  cuckoo  tells  and  re-tells 

"  His  name  to  all  the  hills  ; " 

the  peewit,  couched  in  the  rushes  by  the  brook,  utters  its 
shrill  cry  at  your  approach,  and  tries,  with  instinctive 
cunning,  to  entice  you  away  from  its  nest ;  and  there  is 
music  in  the  rarified  air,  performed  by  such  united  choirs  as 
are  made  by  myriads  of  merry-lived  insects,  the  tinkling  of 
streams,  and  the  half-mournful  cadence  of  many  zephyrs 
journeying  over  the  moors. 

In  sceptical  mood  I  have  sometimes  doubted  whether 
Mrs.  Hemans,  though  she  won  the  prize  offered  by  the 
Royal  Society  of  Literature  for  the  best  poem  on  Dartmoor, 


A  HOLIDAY  IN  DEVONSHIRE. 


T) 


had  herself  looked  much  upon  the  place ;  but  these  lines  are- 
most  appropriate : — 

"  Wild  Dartmoor!  thou  that,  midst  thy  mountains  rude, 
Hast  robed  thyself  with  haughty  solitude, 
As  a  dark  cloud  on  summer's  clear  blue  sky, 
A  mourner  circled  with  festivity  ! 
For  all  beyond  is  life  ! — the  rolling  sea, 
The  rush,  the  swell,  whose  echoes  reach  not  thee." 

Near  Dartmeet,  woods  begin  to  diversify  the  landscape.. 
They  cover  the  steep  declivities  that  rise  precipitately  from 
one  or  both  banks.  Below  the  bridge  there  are  numbers 
of  the  most  tempting  pools;  but  the  local  fishermen,  ad- 
mitting the  superior  scenery,  give  the  sportsman's  palm  to 
the  West  Dart,  which  for  a  mile  or  two  above  the  bridge  is 
the  beau-ideal  of  a  lovely  highland  stream.  Its  bed  is 
strewn  with  boulders  that  in  drought,  as  in  flood,  irritate 
the  impetuous  current  into  ebullitions  of  boil,  bubble,  foam,, 
and  headlong  plunges  very  beautiful  to  watch,  and  pre- 
sently, when  the  torrent  moderates  into  a  less  violent  flow, 
most  serviceable  to  the  dexterous  handler  of  the  fly-rod. 
The  Dart  on  its  downward  course  to  Buckfastleigh,  more 
especially  in  its  windings  through  Holne  Chase,  is  the 
paradise  of  painters. 

Time  and  space  would  fail  me  to  recount  the  legends  to 
which  Dartmoor  Forest  has  given  rise.  It  was  my  privi- 
lege on  one  of  my  rambles  to  fall  in  with  a  gentleman 
renewing  an  old  acquaintance  with  the  moors.  For  years 
he  had  been  doomed  to  frizzle  in  the  West  Indies,  and 
returning  to  the  mother  country  for  a  year's  holiday,  re- 
paired at  once  to  Dartmoor  to  fish  familiar  streams  and 
be  braced  by  the  invigorating  atmosphere.  Of  course  he 


So  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

was  a  sportsman,  and  accustomed  to  both  rod  and  gun. 
We  had  whipped  the  West  Dart,  growing  narrower  and 
shallower  every  day,  and  then  by  common  consent,  meet- 
ing no  reward,  one  day  spiked  our  rods,  lay  down  on  the 
grass,  and  in  the  heart  of  Dartmoor  smoked  our  pipes  of  peace 
like  a  couple  of  lotos-eaters  to  whom  there  was  no  future. 

He  knew  the  moors  as  the  Londoner  knows  Fleet  Street. 
He  had  shot  blackcock  in  certain  bits  of  scrub  where  a  few 
regularly  breed;  he  had  tramped  in  the  September  days 
over  the  Tor  far  away  to  the  north-east,  returning  at  night 
with  six  or  seven  brace  of  snipe  picked  up  in  the  bogs,  and 
an  odd  woodcock  or  two  recruiting  on  Dartmoor  before 
starting  for  their  inland  haunts.  He  had  ridden  to  hounds 
when  the  fox  made  straight  over  the  open,  up  and  down 
hills  steep  as  the  roof  of  a  house.  He  showed  me  a  cup- 
board in  the  inn  at  Two  Bridges,  where  after  two  days' 
hard  work  on  the  upper  moors  he  had  deposited  overnight 
two  dozen  of  snipe  that  were  to  be  despatched  as  presents 
to  particular  friends.  In  the  morning,  however,  he  was  dis- 
gusted at  finding  the  hearts  carefully  and  cleanly  extracted, 
probably  by  rats,  from  most  of  the  birds,  which  were  other- 
wise untouched. 

Finally,  after  a  true  Devonshire  luncheon  of  "  bread  and 
cheese  and  cider,"  he  took  me  to  Wistman's  Wood.  From 
the  valley  I  had  previously  noticed  what  appeared  to  be  a 
rather  extensive  shrubbery  to  the  north-west  of  Crockern 
Tor.  In  the  great  heat  it  was  a  stiff  climb  up  the  slope, 
over  which  immovable  blocks  of  granite  lay  thickly  pep- 
pered. The  shrubbery  turned  out  to  be  a  wonderful  plan- 
tation erf  dwarfed,  gnarled,  uncanny  looking  oak  trees, 
reputed  to  have  been  a  veritable  Druidical  grove.  The 


A  HOLIDAY  IN  DEVONSHIRE.  8c 

trees,  though  not  more  than  seven  feet  high,  put  on  all 
the  airs  of  hoary  forest  patriarchs.  In  age  they  must  have 
been  the  Methuselahs  of  their  tribe ;  in  shape  they  were 
the  counterparts  of  the  finest  and  most  venerable  oaks  of 
Windsor  Forest.  Their  branches  were  wrinkled  ta  such  a 
painful  extent  that  various  plants  and  shrubs  that  usually 
prefer  the  ground  seemed  to  have  entered  into  a  league  to 
hide  the  marks  of  extreme  antiquity  from  the  light  of  day. 
Brambles,  lichens,  ferns,  ivy,  and  other  growths  had  taken 
root  in  the  branches  and  covered  them  with  tangle.  The 
roots  of  the  oaks,  after  centuries  of  fight  with  the  granite 
soil,  were  doing  their  best  either  a  few  inches  below,  or  on 
the  exposed  surface.  Leaving  this  extraordinary  spectacle 
we  leaped  the  West  Dart  where  it  was  a  yard  wide,  and 
climbed  the  steep  to  the  Cowsick  river,  gaining  the  high 
road  through  a  wooded  glen  of  the  most  exquisite  love- 
liness, and  passing  a  rude  bridge  of  slabs  said  to  have  been 
put  together  by  the  Ancient  Britons. 

The  Tamar,  I  had  been  informed,  is  generally  fishable 
when  other  Devonshire  rivers  are  dry,  and  to  the  Tamar  I 
accordingly  determined  to  go.  This  involved  a  sunset — 
and  what  a  sunset ! — journey  back  to  Tavistock,  a  night's 
sleep  in  that  quiet  stannary  borough,  and  an  early  drive  to- 
Horsebridge,  six  miles  in  the  direction  of  the  Cornish  hills 
surmounted  with  tall  chimneys.  The  experienced  super- 
intendent of  the  Tamar  and  Plym  district  had  kindly 
"coached"  me,  but  my  ill-luck  doggedly  pursued  me  to 
the  Tamar;  the  water  was  in  good  order,  but  the  north 
wind  blew  dead  down  stream,  rendering  the  likeliest  scours 
and  eddies  almost  unfisbable  from  below.  Wading  and 
landing  net  were  here  indispensable. 

G 


82  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

The  Tamar  is  a  splendid  river,  with  steep  wooded  slopes 
on  either  side,  bed  slaty  with  occasional  boulders,  of  fair 
width,  and  it  is  one  of  the  troutiest-looking  streams 
imaginable.  But  my  meagre  basket  would  have  satisfied 
even  Major-General  Incredulity.  In  two  days  only  nine 
brace  gladdened  my  eyes,  but  the  trout  were  excellent 
representatives  of  the  river — handsome,  plump  fish  of  two 
and  a  half  to  the  pound,  and  game  as  trout  of  double  and 
treble  their  size  from  some  other  counties  I  know  of.  The 
Dartmoor  trout,  like  the  denizens  of  all  peat-bound  streams, 
were  dark ;  the  Tamar  fish  were  perfectly  shaped  and  beauti- 
fied. I  must  confess  to  an  indictable  offence  committed 
while  thigh-deep  in  the  Tamar.  I  caught  and  slew  a  young 
salmon,  evidently  a  last  year's  fish.  The  unhappy  victim 
took  a  black  fly  down  his  little  gullet,  and  not  surviving  the 
surgical  operation  incident  to  the  removal  of  the  hook,  gave 
up  the  ghost,  leaving  me  and  the  superintendent  to  mourn 
his  untimely  decease. 

The  Inny  is  a  tributary  of  the  Tamar,  and  full  of  trout. 
Wading  in  the  main  stream  should  be  done  with  care,  for 
there  are  shelves  which,  without  warning,  will  drop  the 
heedless  sportsman  from  five  inches  to  five  feet  of  water. 
The  scenery  at  Endsleigh  I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe — 
it  is  superb.  The  Duke  of  Bedford's  lodge  is  perched  up 
on  the  side  of  a  finely  wooded  declivity,  on  which  whole 
shrubberies  of  rhododendrons  gleamed  purple  and  lilac.  The 
famous  trees  of  Fountains  Abbey  are  not  more  towering  or 
wide-spreading  than  those  in  the  Duke  of  Bedford's  woods 
at  Endsleigh.  A  little  cottage  maiden  brought  me  a  plate 
of  brown  bread  and  fresh  butter  and  a  mug  of  new  milk  at 
midday;  and  this  meal,  after  laboriously  whipping  three 


A  HOLIDAY  IN  DEVONSHIRE.  83 

miles  of  river  in  the  teeth  of  the  wind^and  against  strong 
currents,  was,  I  fancy,  better  appreciated  than  frequently 
happens  with  my  Lord  Mayor's  turtle^  and]  champagne  at 
Egyptian  Hall  feasts. 

Then  was  the  time  to  use  Golden  Returns  in  a  meerschaum 
service  for  dessert,  and  to  take  note  of  details.  A  hawk, 
caring  no  more  for  me  than  a  Guatemala  commandant  cares 
for  a  British  consul,  swooped  at  a  ringdove  within  pelting 
distance.  Kingfishers  flew  by  like  flashes  of  sapphire  and 
emerald;  rabbits  openly  continued  their  nibbling  in  the 
next  clearing ;  and  the  vermin — adders,  my  little  handmaid 
said,  were  much  too  numerous — rustled  in  the  intervening 
thickets.  When  a  dragon  fly  pitched  upon  my  ebony  winch 
and  crawled  a  few  inches  on  a  tour  of  inspection  up  my  line, 
there  was  no  more  to  be  said — it  was  wonder-land  pure  and 
simple. 

But  musing  is  one  thing  and  trout-fishing  another. 
Standing  out  in  the  Tamar,  a  bit  of  shoal  water  landwards 
revealed  to  me  all  its  treasures,  and  I  recalled  the  minute 
description  of  Keats  : — 

"  Where  swarms  of  minnows  show  their  little  heads, 
Staying  their  wavy  bodies  'gainst  the  streams, 
To  taste  the  luxury  of  summer  beams 
Tempered  with  coolness.     How  they  ever  wrestle 
With  their  own  fresh  delight  and  ever  nestle 
Their  silver  bellies  on  the  pebbly  sand ! 
If  you  but  scantily  hold  out  the  hand 
That  very  instant  will  not  one  remain, 
But  turn  your  eye  and  there  they  are  again." 

From  the  minnows,  to  be  frank,  I  had  turned  my  eye 
upon  a  gleaming  kingfisher,  which  fluttered  through  the 
brambles  and  ferns,  and  poised  himself  on  a  bough  over- 

G  2 


84  ATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

hanging  the  water,  at  which  he  looked  intently  while  I  looked 
at  him.  Meanwhile,  a  trout  took  advantage  of  my  fly 
floating  at  will  with  the  current,  and  rudely  recalled  me 
from  my  bird-study  by  hooking  himself,  leaping  out  of  the 
water,  and  escaping  with  a  shilling's  worth  of  tackle.  The 
kingfisher  darted  up  stream,  but  came  back  again  in  a  few 
minutes,  hovering  restlessly  about,  waiting,  no  doubt,  until 
the  neighbourhood  was  clear  of  his  human  rival.  I  rather 
suspect  he  was  at  the  same  time  quietly  amusing  himself 
over  the  penalty  I  had  to  pay  for  inattention  to  rod  and  line. 


PRACTICAL  NOTES  ON  DEVONSHIRE  FISHING. 

The  Exe,  the  Teign,  the  Otter,  the  Sid,  and  the  Axe  are 
good  rivers  in  the  more  eastern  parts  of  the  country,  the  last 
three  named  coming  in  fact  from  the  Somersetshire  hills.  The 
Otter  is  one  of  our  earliest  trout  rivers,  fishing  commencing 
there  with  the  month  of  February.  It  requires  most  delicate 
fishing,  but  there  are  fair  supplies  of  trout.  I  have  had  no 
personal  experience  of  these  rivers  beyond  that  performed 
by  a  spectator  who  sits  in  a  basket  chaise  watching  an 
angler,  devoutedly  wishing  all  the  time  that  he  wielded  the 
rod  instead  of  the  whip.  I  saw  a  keeper  near  Ottery  St. 
Mary  catch  a  brace  of  half-pounders  in  two  casts,  delivered 
in  the  most  masterly  manner.  But,  as  he  confessed  to  me, 
he  had  been  looking  after  those  fish  for  three  days.  It  is- 
difficult  to  obtain  permission  to  fish  in  this  part  of  Devon- 
shire. In  the  Exe,  close  to  Exeter,  there  is  a  reach  of 
passable  pike  water,  fishable  from  a  boat  only. 

In  the  north  of  the  county  the  Taw  and  the  Torridge  are 
famous  streams.     The  former   is  a  Dartmoor  born   river,. 


A  HOLIDAY  IN  DEVONSHIRE.  85 

running  fifty  miles  northward  and  receiving  the  Dalch,  Little 
Dart,  and  Mole,  all  holders  of  trout.  It  becomes  navigable 
a  little  above  Barnstaple.  The  Devonshire  Taw  must  not 
be  confounded  with  the  Tawe  of  South  Wales.  The  Tor- 
ridge  rises  close  to,  almost  in,  the  source  of  the  Tamar  on 
the  Cornish  border,  but,  as  if  they  had  quarrelled  violently 
at  their  birth,  the  latter  runs  south  to  the  English  Channel, 
the  former  north  to  the  Bristol  Channel.  These  north-going 
rivers  have  salmon  as  well  as  trout. 

Slapton  Lea,  about  seven  miles  from  Dartmouth,  is  a  lake 
separated  by  a  spit  of  sand  from  the  sea,  and  a  favourite 
resort  for  pike  and  perch  fishers,  and  after  October  of  wild- 
fowl sportsmen. 

With  respect  to  the  Dartmoor  streams,  and  those 
sufficiently  near  to  be  classed  with  them,  the  following 
details  may  be  useful  to  anglers : — On  the  Tavistock  and 
Launceston  line  the  Plym  may  be  reached  from  Marsh  Mills, 
or  Bickleigh,  and  at  Shaughbridge  the  Cad  and  Meavy 
join,  to  flow  together  thenceforth  as  the  Plym.  For  the 
Walkham,  upper  Meavy,  and  lower  Tavy  alight  at  Horra- 
bridge.  Tavistock  is  the  station  for  the  excellent  fishing 
controlled  by  the  Trimar  and  Plym  fishing  conservators. 
The  South  Devon  line  touches  the  Plym  at  Plympton,  the 
Yealm  at  Cornwood,  the  Ernie  at  Ivybridge,  the  Avon  at 
Kingsbridge  Road  and  Brent,  and  the  lower  Dart  and 
Harborne  near  Totnes.  The  Teign  is  within  a  short 
distance  of  Newton.  The  higher  waters,  as  is  shown  in  the 
foregoing  chapter,  are  best  reached  from  Princetown  on 
the  moor. 

Flies,  information,  and  licenses  may  be  obtained  from 
Jeffery  and  Son,  or  Hearder  of  Plymouth.  '  In  the  late 


86  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

summer  and  autumn  admirable  sport  may  be  obtained  with 
salmon  peel  from  three  and  four  pounds  downwards.  After  a 
flood  the  PlynTand'/Tavy  will  yield  heavy  baskets  to  skilful 
anglers.  As  a  rule  season  or  day  tickets  may  be  obtained,, 
but  certainfportions  of  course  are  preserved  by  the  landed 
proprietors. 


CHAPTER  V. 

« 

IN  THE  MIDLANDS. 

"  The  stately  homes  of  England! 

How  beautiful  they  stand, 
Amidst  their  tall  ancestral  trees, 

O'er  all  the  pleasant  land ! 
The  deer  across  the  greensward  bound, 

Through  shade  and  sunny  gleam  ; 
And  the  swan  glides  past  them  with  the  sound 
Of  some  rejoicing  stream." 

HEMANS. 

COWPER  must  indeed  have  been  a  poet  to  find  so  much  in 
the  River  Ouse  worthy  of  his  attention.  True,  his  was  a 
humble  soul,  and  very  little  gave  him  content.  Musing  and 
wandering  he  saw  more  sermons  in  stones,  books  in  the 
running  brooks,  and  good  in  everything  than  most  men. 
The  Ouse  is  an  interesting  river,  but  it  is  not  romantic.  It 
is  prosaic  and  business-like  from  beginning  to  end,  fulfilling 
its  course  through  the  fat  broad  pastures  of  Northampton, 
Oxford,  Buckingham,  Bedford,  Huntingdon,  Cambridge,  and 
Norfolk,  like  a  respectable  commercial  traveller  who  has  to 
"  work  "  a  certain  district,  and  is  prepared  to  do  it  conscien- 
tiously to  the  last. 

Cowper  had  a  favourite  expression  for  the  Ouse.  He 
called  it  "  slow-winding."  The  poet  was  accurate :  the 
river  is  slow,  and  I  believe  it  pursues  the  most  serpentine 
journey  of  all  our  rivers,  through  the  flattest  part  of  the 


88  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

great  grazing  shires.     Thus  it  fully  justifies  Cowper's  repeated 
use  of  the  expression  referred  to.     He  says  : — 

"  Shut  out  from  more  important  views 
Fast  by  the  banks  of  the  slow-winding  Ouse  : 
Content  if  thus  sequestered  I  may  raise 
A  monitor's,  though  not  a  poet's  praise, 
And  while  I  teach  an  art  too  little  known, 
To  close  life  wisely,  may  not  waste  my  own." 

In  such  words  terminates  the  not  half  appreciated  poem 
on  "  Retirement."  Yet  again  the  poet  returns  to  his  idea. 
He  has  not  written  many  pages  of  his  "  Sofa "  before  he 
draws  a  picture  of  the  river  he  knew  so  well  and  loved  so 
much,  which,  like  all  his  pictures  of  the  country  about 
Olney,  is  Wilkie-like  in  its  fidelity  to  details  : — 

"  Here  Ouse,  slew-winding  through  a  level  plain 
Of  spacious  meads  with  cattle  sprinkled  o'er, 
Conducts  the  eye  along  the  sinuous  course 
Delighted.     There  fast  rooted  in  their  bank 
Stand,  never  over-looked,  our  favourite  elms 
That  screen  the  herdsman's  solitary  hut ; 
While  far  beyond,  and  overthwart  the  stream, 
That  as  with  molten  glass  inlays  the  vale, 
The  sloping  land  recedes  into  the  clouds, 
Displaying  on  its  varied  side  the  grace 
Of  hedge-row  beauties  numberless,  square  tower, 
Tall  spire  from  which  the  sound  of  cheerful  bells 
Just  undulates  upon  the  listening  ear  ; 
Groves,  heaths,  and  smoking  villages  remote." 

This  sketch  is  as  faithful  now  as  ever  it  was,  and  it  is  a 
description  that  may  be  said  to  apply  not  only  to  the 
particular  district  in  which  the  poet  lived  and  suffered,  but 
to  the  general  character  of  the  river.  Here  and  there  the 
Ouse  is  not  without  picturesqueness,  but  there  is  always  that 
fine  suggestion  of  molten  glass  inlaying  the  vale.  By  no 


IN  THE  MIDLANDS.  89 

chance  will  the  Ouse  ever  be  taken  into  custody  for  brawling 
or  riotous  behaviour.  When  the  rains  descend  and  the 
floods  come  the  Ouse  swells,  muddens,  and  overspreads  the 
meadows  in  a  methodical  manner,  doing  its  overflowing  with 
dismal  thoroughness,  but  conducting  itself  with  persistent 
respectability,  under  circumstances  which  would  warrant 
any  other  river  in  roaring  and  trampling  over  all  that  lay  in 
its  way. 

In  summer  and  in  winter,  going  to  Ouse-side  with  a  pocket 
edition  of  Cowper  in  my  pocket,  I  have,  when  sport  failed, 
beguiled  the  time  by  following  his  minute  observations  of 
the  scenery.  I  could  give  you  the  address  of  that  boy  of 
freedom  of  whom  it  is  written  : — 

"  To  snare  the  mole,  or  with  ill-fashioned  hook 
To  draw  the  incautious  minnow  from  the  brook, 
Are  life's  prime  pleasures  in  his  simple  view, 
His  flock  the  chief  concern  he  ever  knew." 

The  young  rascal  will  get  you  a  can  of  gudgeons  for  a 
consideration,  and  forsake  his  flock  to  accompany  you  on 
your  piscatorial  wanderings  in  the  fields.  And  as  you 
wander  you  shall  be  ever  and  anon  reminded  of  the  river's 
poet.  By  Sandy  I  have  met  that  "  reeking,  roaring  hero  of 
the  chase  "  who  hunts  that  part  of  the  world  to  this  day. 
The  little  inn  where  you  stay  has  its  "creaking  country 
sign,"  and  "ducks  paddle  in  the  pond  before  the  door." 
On  every  side  "  laughs  the  land  with  various  plenty  crowned.'1 
Many  is  the  time  when,  smoking  "the  pipe  with  solemn 
interposing  puff,"  I  have  stood  "ankle  deep  in  moss  and 
flowery  thyme,"  or  taken  shelter  from  showers  under  "  rough 
elm,  or  smooth-grained  ash  or  glossy  beech,"  and  in  the 
absence  of  luck  have  returned  "  at  noon  to  billiards  or  to 


90  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

books."  Whether  poor  Cowper  added  fishing  to  his  simple 
amusements  has  not  to  my  knowledge  been  recorded,  but 
you  may  remember  how  sagely  he  observes  : — 

"  So  when  the  cold  damp  shades  of  night  prevail 
Worms  may  be  caught  by  either  head  or  tail." 

— an  unvarnished  statement  of  fact  which  leads  me  to  sus- 
pect that  the  poet  had  at  some  period  of  his  life  been 
interested  in  that  familiar  operation  to  the  angler  of  stalk- 
ing "  lobs "  in  the  garden  with  a  lantern  and  flower  pot, 
having  an  eye  to  the  bream  to  whom  such  dainties  are  an 
irresistible  bait. 

This  pathetic  couplet  on  wormology  must  be  a  reminder 
that  this  is  not  an  essay  on  the  poet  Cowper,  but  a  sketch  of 
the  river  by  which  he  spent  so  many  years  of  his  life. 

The  Ouse  roughly  speaking  runs  in  a  north-easterly 
direction.  Rising  in  Northamptonshire,  it  for  a  while 
divides  the  counties  of  Northampton  and  Buckinghamshire,, 
touching  and  indeed  almost  encircling  the  town  of  Buck- 
ingham, and  afterwards,  beyond  Stony  Stratford,  receiving 
the  Tove,  which  passes  near  the  rare  old  town  of  Towcester 
and  takes  in  the  drainage  of  Whittlebury  Forest.  At  New- 
port Pagnell  the  Ouse  is  increased  by  the  little  Ousel,  then 
flows  on  to  wooded  Weston,  where  stands  the  park  placed 
at  Cowper's  disposal  by  his  faithful  friends,  and  to  Olney, 
where  he  lived  in  neighbourship  with  John  Newton,  of 
Olney  hymn  fame.  By-and-by  it  comes  to  Bedford.  At 
Tempsford  it  is  joined  by  the  Ivel;  it  becomes  a  broad, 
deep  river  in  Huntingdonshire,  takes  in  numerous  minor 
streams  in  its  course  through  the  Fen  Level,  and  after  150 
miles  of  persevering  twisting  and  turning  delivers  up  its 
tribute  in  goodly  volume  at  the  estuary  of  the  Wash. 


IN  THE  MIDLANDS.  91 

The  Ouse  is  an  excellent  pike  river,  and  remarkable  for 
the  size  and  quantity  of  its  bream.  For  the  greater  portion 
of  its  length  until  recently  it  was  under  no  law  but  that  most 
wholesome  law  of  trespass,  which,  judiciously  enforced,  is  so- 
potent  a  preserver  of  wood  and  water  when  other  provisions 
fail.  And  there  is  probably  no  stream  in  England  which 
has  been  more  poached  than  the  Ouse.  It  has  been 
long  a  recognised  custom  for  men,  armed  with  nets  made 
after  a  fashion  most  suitable  for  the  purpose,  to  undertake  a 
tour  as  regularly  as  the  spring  comes  round,  and,  placing 
their  abominable  traps  across  the  mouths  of  the  brooks,  to 
drive  down  from  the  long  watercourses  the  fish  which  have 
pushed  'their  way  up  to  spawn.  Literally  nothing  comes 
amiss  to  the  net  so  used ;  and  as  in  the  level  country  the 
little  watercourses  are  narrow  and  deep  and  frequent,  the 
brooks  and  ditches  are  capital  breeding  grounds. 

A  gentleman  last  March  in  Huntingdonshire,  riding 
leisurely  home  after  a  day  with  the  hounds,  leaped  one  of 
these  yard- wide  watercourses  and  started  a  poacher  who  was 
hiding  under  a  bush.  The  marauder  had  been  using  the 
net  above  described,  and  in  his  dirty  sack  were  several  pike 
of  about  two  pounds'  weight,  and  one  fine  fish  of  over 
twenty-four  pounds,  quite  out  of  condition  and  heavy  with 
spawn.  To  be  sure  the  rights  of  property  must  be  preserved, 
and  if  the  farmers  and  other  occupiers  of  the  land  have  no 
objection  to  this  sort  offish  murder  there  is  nothing  more  to 
be  said. 

But  that  spirit  of  preservation  which  in  a  former  chapter 
I  mentioned  as  so  beneficial  to  the  Thames  is  not  confined 
to  metropolitan  head-quarters.  In  all  parts  of  the  country, 
rivers,  to  foul  and  poach  which  the  public  from  time 


92  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

immemorial  fancied  they  had  a  prescriptive  right,  are 
being  protected  by  local  societies,  and  although  there  is 
generally  some  sort  of  opposition  at  first  from  the  obstinate 
and  meddlesome  wiseacres  who  imagine  themselves  called 
upon  to  be  village  Hampdens  at  every  new  proposition, 
however  trifling  it  may  be,  before  long,  the  innovation 
proving  itself  an  improvement,  is  warmly  accepted  and  sup- 
ported. Nothing  would  be  more  reprehensible  than  the 
shutting  out  of  the  public  from  opportunities  of  enjoying  the 
delights  of  angling,  and  as  a  rule  this  course  is  scrupulously 
avoided.  Wherever  these  associations  exercise  jurisdiction 
you  find  a  certain  stretch  of  free  water  as  to  which  the  only 
restrictions  insisted  upon  are  those  which  are  necessary  to 
good  order  and  fair  play. 

Here  let  us  return  to  the  Ouse.  Formerly  the  river  in 
and  near  Bedford  was  worthless  to  the  angler,  but  it  is  now 
most  sensibly  preserved  by  the  Bedford  Angling  Club,  of 
which  Mr.  Howard,  the  famous  implement  maker,  is  presi- 
dent. The  most  valuable  rule  the  club  has  passed  is  that 
which  leaves  the  jack  unmolested  till  September,  up  to  which 
month  Master  Luce  should  unquestionably  be  allowed  in 
most  waters  to  fatten  himself  for  the  sacrifice.  Again,  the 
club  permits  no  fishing  on  Sundays, and  the  "free  water"  in 
the  centre  of  the  town  must  be  fished  under  the  eye  of  the 
keepers. 

In  a  year  or  two  the  Ouse  between  Bedford  and  Barford 
Bridge — within  three  hours'  reach  of  London  let  it  be 
remembered — will  be  first  amongst  the  pike  waters  at  our 
disposal.  Fish  of  ten  and  twelve  pounds  are  abundant  in 
the  long  sluggish  reaches,  where  the  water  is  frequently 
fourteen  or  fifteen  feet  deep,  and  seldom  indeed  should  an 


IN  THE  MIDLANDS.  93 

angler  return  without  a  brace  or  two  of  good  pike.  Towards 
the  close  of  last  season,  in  a  North  London  angling  club, 
a  tray  of  pike  was  exhibited  as  an  illustration  of  the 
value  of  the  Ouse  :  there  were  two  fish — a  handsome  pair, 
alike  as  two  peas — of  nine  pounds  and  a  half,  four  between 
five  and  seven  pounds,  and  three  not  much  above  or  below 
four  pounds.  That  was  the  reward  of  one  short  winter-day's 
live-baiting  three  miles  or  so  below  Bedford. 

Two  autumns  ago  I  myself  had  the  pleasure  of  finding  a 
"  hot  corner  "  amongst  the  Ouse  jack.  If  I  had  a  Cowper 
in  my  pocket,  there  was  despair  in  my  heart.  Two  days  had 
I  been  sojourning  at  a  pleasant  waterside  inn  at  Barford 
Bridge,  a  melancholy  example  of  the  strange  reverses  to 
which  the  angler  is  subjected.  The  "tip  direct"  had  been 
sent  me  that  the  pike  were  feeding,  and  off  I  went  straight- 
way to  Sandy  by  train,  and  to  Barford  per  dogcart,  with  a 
companion  who  meditated  valiant  deeds  with  his  bait  can. 
Even  while  alighting  from  the  two-wheeler — as  a  matter  of 
fact  my  companion,  encumbered  with  three  rods  and  little 
short  of  half  a  hundredweight  of  miscellaneous  baggage, 
tumbled  out  head  foremost,  and  smashed  the  baiting  needle 
he  had  ostentatiously  stuck  in  his  hat — we  saw  an  urchin, 
wielding  a  clothes  prop  and  line  to  match,  swish  out  a 
pikelet  close  to  the  bridge :  and  rubbed  our  hands  at  the 
prospect. 

But  the  entire  day  was  a  blank.  Somehow  the  fish  "  went 
off,"  and  fed  not.  Perhaps  the  wind  had  chopped  round  to 
the  east ;  perhaps  the  fish  knew,  as  they  are  said  to  do, 
that  atmospheric  changes  were  pending ;  perhaps  they  had 
retired  into  the  magnificent  thickets  of  tufted  reeds  which 
rose  like  a  wall  out  of  the  other  side  of  the  river ;  perhaps 


•94  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

the  sportsmen  were  not  sufficiently  skilful  with  their  lures. 
Anglers  are  often  laughed  at  for  that  ready  excuse  they  have 
under  any  circumstances  and  at  all  times  to  explain  ill  luck  : 
the  water  is  too  low  or  too  high,  too  bright  or  too  coloured, 
or  the  weather  is  unfavourable,  or  has  been,  or  threatens  to 
be  so.  Nevertheless,  laugh  as  you  may,  it  is  undoubted  that 
fish  do  suddenly  and  without  any  apparent  reason  drop  into 
listlessness  and  lie  at  the  bottom  like  a  stone,  to  be  tempted 
by  no  bait  whatsoever. 

On  this  morning  we  tried  every  expedient ;  roach,  dace, 
and  gudgeon  were  in  turn  placed  upon  the  live  bait  tackle  ; 
every  spinning  flight  in  the  box  was  attempted ;  artificial 
trout,  phantoms,  and  red-tasselled  spoon  bait  succeeded  ; 
.and  finally  we  settled  down  to — what  is  after  all  the  best 
method  of  fishing  the  Ouse — trolling  with  the  gorge  bait. 
A  dozen  times  during  the  day  we  distinctly  saw  pike  lazily 
follow  the  spinner  or  dead  roach  to  within  a  few  inches  of  the 
surface,  never  intending — the  cheats  ! — to  touch  the  bait, 
but  pursuing  it  out  of  mere  shark-like  instinct.  We  thus 
returned  to  our  hostelry,  muddy,  silent,  out  of  heart,  and 
hungry ;  and  stamping  our  feet  at  the  door  confronted  the 
country  postman. 

There  he  was  to  the  life  as  drawn  in  "  The  Winter  Even- 
ing." We  had  heard  his  horn  twanging  o'er  yonder  bridge 
while  we  passed  through  the  third  meadow  with  the  rods 
slanting  over  our  shoulders.  He  was  the  poet's  "post" 
with  but  a  few  touches  of  difference.  The  boots  were  spat- 
tered, and  the  waist  strapped  as  of  yore,  but  his  locks  were 
not  frozen  for  an  obvious  reason — it  was  not  frosty  weather ; 
and 

"  He  whistles  as  lie  goes,  light-hearted  wretch." 


IN  THE  MIDLANDS.  95 

We  did  not  whistle  as  we  went,  and  I  have  already  intimated 
that  we  were  not  exactly  light-hearted.  Not  at  any  rate 
until  we  had  plodded  upstairs  into  our  snug  sitting-room. 

Ah  !  what  a  friendly  friend  a  blazing  wood  fire  is  !  How 
the  flames  seem  to  wink  at  you,  and  how  the  crackling  and 
sputtering  suggest  somebody  [laughing]  and  nudging  you 
under  the  fifth  rib  !  Why,  a  ten  pound  note,  or  three  fives 
at  the  outside,  would  have  purchased  the  entire  furniture  of 
that  cosy  room,  outside  of  whose  window  the  sign  swung  and 
creaked.  But  it  was  a  palace  to  us,  though  the  branches 
scratched  the  window  as  if  theyj  were]  angry  fishwomen 
clawing  at  a  husband's  face.  There  was  a  storm  brewing 
south-eastward,  and  the  rising  jwind  made  mad  work  with 
such  few  leaves  as  were  left  upon  the  branches,  while  the 
day  faded  out  in  the  sullenest  of  moods. 

What  more  suitable  time  for  relishing  the  warm  chamber, 
loose  slippers,  cleanly  spread  tea-table,  and  savoury  ham 
and  eggs  !  We  made  love  to  the  Dresden  shepherdess  in 
china  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  admired  the  cheap  hunting 
scenes  on  the  walls ;  and  as,  tumbling  out  the  winches  to 
wind  the  sodden  lines  round  the  chair  backs — never  neglect 
that  precaution,  Mr.  Pikefisher — we"[tumbled  also  the  Cow- 
perian  pocket  edition  out  of  the  wallet,  what  more  natural 
than  that,  thawing  into  good  humour,  we  should  hold  forth 
in  recitation  ? 

My  companion,  the  "  Gay  Comrade  "  of  our  first  chapter, 
rather  prides  himself  upon  his  elocutionary  gifts  and  graces. 
The  shadows  of  the  wood  fire  flickered  about  his  curly  head 
in  the  darkening  room,  as  he  extended  his  right  arm  and  in 
commanding  tones  began — 

"  Now  stir  the  fire,  and — " 


96  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

Margaret  of  the  ruddy  cheeks  and  white  apron  at  that 
precise  moment  silently  entered,  bearing  candles;  with  a 
little  shriek  she  observed  : — 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,  please  don't ;  them  logs  churkle  dreadful,  and 
the  sparks  '11  pop  out  and  you'll  burn  the  carpet  if  you  poke 
the  fire." 

The  G.  C.,  somewhat  abashed  at  being  caught  in  a  tragic 
attitude,  at  my  laughter,  and  at  being  so  ruthlessly  brought 
down  into  the  ham-and-eggs  atmosphere  of  every-day  life, 
pierced  the  poor  woman  straight  in  the  eyes  with  a  fearful 
glance  of  Othelloish,  Macbethical,  and  Hamletian  power. 
Then  he  resumed:  — 

"  And  close  the  shutters  fast, 
Let  fall  the  curtains,  wheel "- 

"  I'll  try,"  quoth  Margaret,  "  to  fast  up  the  shuts,  but  I 
know  two  of  the  hinges  is  broke,  and  the  blind  don't  come 
only  half  ways  down." 

The  reciter  here  found  it  convenient  to  gaze  vacantly  out 
into  the  gloom  and  hum  something  until  the  handmaid  had 
descended  into  the  lower  regions,  and  then  good  humour- 
ed ly,  and  with  a  fine  sort  of  frenzy  in  his  expression,  he 
finished  the  broken  measure  : — 

— "  wheel  the  sofa  round,     • 
And  while  the  bubbling  and  loud  hissing  urn 
Throws  up  a  steamy  column,  and  the  cups 
That  cheer  but  not  inebriate,  wait  on  each, 
So  let  us  welcome  peaceful  evening  in." 

We  forthwith  welcomed  according  to  our  lights.  The  sofa, 
weak  and  ruptured  in  the  hind  off  castor,  refused  to  be 
wheeled ;  the  steaming  column  arose,  not  from  the  dear  old 


IN  THE  MIDLANDS.  97 

urn  now  so  seldom  seen,  but  from  the  hot  water  jug  doing 
duty  as  a  reserve  force  to  the  teapot;  and  to  be  honest 
(poor  but  honest  as  the  story  books  have  it)  the  cups  were 
not  quite  so  innocent  as  those  handed  round  in  Mr.  New- 
ton's Buckinghamshire  Vicarage  or  Mrs.  Unwinds  parlour, 
for,  as  a  precaution  against  cold — and  understand,  once  for 
all,  from  no  less  praiseworthy  motive — our  tea  was  flavoured 
with  just  a  suspicion  of  cognac,  which  increased  the  cheer- 
ing quality  without  producing  actual  inebriation. 

It  is  Cowper's  fault  that  by  this  time  I  have  almost  for- 
gotten my  "  hot  corner "  experience  on  the  Ouse.  I 
apologise  and  pass  on.  The  morning  after  we  had 
welcomed  our  peaceful  evening  in — do  not  fear,  I  really  will 
not  wander  away  from  the  point  any  more — it  blew  a  gale, 
and  we  had  not  been  out  of  doors  five  minutes  before  we 
were  drenched.  At  length  we  got  a  mile  or  two  down  the 
stream,  but  the  blank  of  the  previous  day  was  repeated. 
Like  those  very  old  fishermen  we  read  of,  we  toiled  all  day 
and  caught  nothing.  The  sun  began  to  set  in  a  copper- 
clouded  and  wild  sky  about  five  o'clock,  and  in  the  midst  of 
a  discussion  as  to  whether  we  had  not  better  go  back  to 
welcome  another  &c.,  the  wind  fell — soughed  convulsively 
amongst  the  quivering  forest  of  reeds,  sighed,  and  went  to 
sleep. 

Now  was  the  time.  A  lively  gudgeon  cast  within  a  few 
inches  of  an  island  of  rushes  in  the  middle  of  the  river  did 
the  trick ;  in  a  twinkling  the  float  darted  away  and  the  winch 
spun  round  merrily.  In  all  directions  the  small  fry,  leaping 
out  of  the  water  and  fluttering  on  the  surface,  betrayed  the 
whereabouts  of  the  ravenous  fish.  Released  from  the 
mysterious  spell  laid  upon  them  to  our  loss  during  the  two 


98  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

previous  days,  they  now  appeared  to  throw  caution  to  the 
winds.  As  fast  as  I  rebaited,  my  float  disappeared  and  a 
fish  came  to  bank.  Who  shall  account  for  the  unaccount- 
able? The  G.  C.  is  in  all  points  a  better  angler  than 
myself;  his  tackle  was  finer  and  his  style  of  fishing  more 
artistic.  Yet,  when  too  dark  to  see  the  river  we  reluctantly 
reeled  up,  his  bait  had  not  been  touched,  though  half  a 
dozen  pike  taken  in  the  manner  I  have  described  by  my 
rod  were  hopping  about  in  the  grass.  It  was  all  the 
more  singular  because  my  friend  had  thrown  his  baits  into 
places  where  fish  were  visibly  moving,  and  where  directly 
he  shifted  his  position  I  was  instantly  successful. 

In  July  and  August  there  are  almost  miraculous  draughts 
of  fishes  amongst  the  bream  in  the  Ouse.  Not  a  hundred 
yards  from  Bedford  Bridge  there  is  at  least  one  bream  hole 
out  of  which  sixty  pounds  of  fish  have  been  taken  in  a 
morning,  and  you  hear  of  bream  of  six  pounds.  That, 
however,  is  an  extraordinary  weight,  but  a  three-pound  fish 
is  not  at  all  uncommon  in  any  part  of  the  river.  I  must 
confess  to  no  great  respect  for  the  Cyprinus  Brama.  A 
fish  that  is  shaped  like  a  bellows,  that  is  as  thin  as  a  John 
Dory,  that  is  as  uneatable  as  the  John  Dory  is  delicious, 
that  is  capricious  in  his  habits,  and  that  rarely  rises  at  a  fly, 
cannot  be  termed  beautiful  or  useful  to  either  cook  or 
sportsman. 

In  the  Ouse  country,  notwithstanding  his  bones  and 
general  insipidity,  the  poorer  people  do  eat  the  bream  and 
like  him  passing  well.  At  Huntingdon  on  one  of  my  out- 
ings by  the  Ouse  the  landlady  of  a  small  inn  served  up  a 
breakfast  dish  which  I  relished  to  the  extent  of  absolute 
consumption.  It  was  a  thin  fillet  of  white  fish,  from  which 


IN  THE  MIDLANDS.  99 

the  bones  had  been  extracted,  and  which  was  served  up 
yellowish  brown  with  some  description  of  savoury  herb 
sauce.  Having  eaten  every  flake,  upon  ^inquiry  I  found  it 
was  the  bream  I  had  on  the  previous  night  so  execrated. 
But  I  freely  confess  frequent  trials  since  have  utterly  failed 
to  make  the  bream  a  decent  edible.  Yet  I  do  not  forget 
that  the  French  proverb  says,  "  He  who  hath  bream  in  his 
pond  may  bid  his  friends  welcome/'  and  that  Chaucer,  who 
may  be  said  to  have  known  a  thing  or  two,  wrote : — 

"  Full  many  a  fair  partrich  hadde  he  in  mewe, 
And  many  a  breme,  and  many  a  luce  in  stewe." 

A  recital  of  a  little  personal  experience_of  bream-fishing 
will  give  some  insight  into  the  habits  of  the  bream.  Having 
at  odd  visits  to  John  Bunyan's  pretty  and  interesting  old 
country  town  seen  Howard's  workpeople"' returning  home 
staggering  beneath  burdens  of  fish  taken  from  the  bank  in 
the  meadows  near  Cardington  Mill,  I  resolved  to  lay  my- 
self out  seriously  for  rivalry:  but  unfortunately  it  was 
October  before  I  could  carry  out  my  intention.  This  I  did 
not  require  to  be  told  was  fully  a  month]  or  six  weeks  too 
late  ;  but  a  celebrated  professional ,  bream-catcher  at  Bed- 
ford, nevertheless,  got  his  boat  ready  and  took  me  a  couple 
of  miles  down  the  river.  We  tied  ourselves  to  the  reeds 
with  fourteen  feet  of  sluggish  water  beneath  us,  and  to  our 
dismay  found  the  surface  smooth  and  clear  as  glass.  The 
bream  angler  in  July  should  be  at  his  post  on  the  river 
and  quiet  as  a  mouse  by  daybreak,  for  the  chances  are  that 
he  will  have  finished  all  his  work  by  breakfast  time.  But  as 
later  in  the  season  it  is  necessary  to  let  the  morning  chills 
evaporate,  eleven  o'clock  had  struck  before  we  began. 

Balls  of  mingled  slime  and  brewers'  grains  the  size  of 

H  2 


i  oo  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

bombshells  were  first  cast  into  the  water  five  yards  from  the 
boat,  the  boatman  observing — 

u  You'll  see  a  lark  presently,  guvnor."  He  then  began 
to  make  ready  his  tackle — long,  heavy,  rudely  made  rods, 
coarse  lines  without  winches,  clumsily  leaded  gut  hooks, 
and  seven  or  eight  nasty  little  worms  affixed  en  masse  to 
each  hook,  of  which  there  were  two  to  each  line. 

"Why  don't  you  throw  out?"  I  said,  all  being  ready, 
and  looking  out  upon  the  dreadfully  unruffled  surface  of 
the  broad  river. 

"  You  hold  hard,  guvnor ;  there'll  be  a  lark  presently,'' 
he  still  replied,  looking  down  the  stream  with  a  patient, 
wistful  gaze. 

"  There  they  are,"  he  said,  by-and-by;  "don't  move, 
guvnor.  I  know  the  beggars,  bless  you — I  told  you  so.  You 
keep  still,  guvnor." 

He  now  made  a  monster  cigarette  from  a  leaf  of  Brad- 
shaw's  Railway  Guide  (having  forgotten  to  bring  out  his 
pipe  and  tobacco),  and  watched  what  he  had  termed  a 
"lark"  with  a  benign  expression  of  countenance.  It  was 
certainly  amusing.  Quite  fifty  yards  down  the  river  large 
dark  somethings  splashed,  twisted,  and  plunged  upon  the 
surface  of  the  water  in  hundreds,  all  advancing  slowly  to- 
wards the  point  where  we  were  stationed.  This  the  boat- 
man said  was  a  favourite  winter-home  of  the  bream,  and 
his  theory  was  that  they  had  scuttled  away  in  shoals  at  our 
approach,  and  were  now  slowly  returning  in  good  skirmish- 
ing order.  Steadily  the  host  advanced,  the  splashes  and 
backs  of  the  fish  appearing  at  intervals  of  four  or  five  yards. 
The  signs  ceased  when  they  should  have  appeared  opposite 
our  boat,  and  this  led  the  bream  master  to  remark — 


IN  THE  MIDLANDS.  101 

"  The  darned  skunks,  they've  winded  us,  guvnor." 

Be  that  as  it  may,  in  a  few  moments  the  hubbub  recom- 
menced many  yards  above  us,  and  then  all  was  silent  as 
before.  After  a  decent  pause,  the  bream  having  evidently 
retreated  upon  their  former  position  below,  the  plunges 
began  again,  and  another  cautious  upward  movement  com- 
menced ;  and  to  our  delight  this  time  there  were  no  indica- 
tions that  the  fish  had  passed  us. 

The  boatman  then  deftly  threw  out  his  baits  and  fixed  his 
rods  under  the  thwarts,  and  I  followed  his  example  with  my 
lighter  implements.  Five  minutes  elapsed,  when  down  went 
both  of  his  floats.  They  came  up,  went  down,  came  up, 
and  again  went  down,  while  the  fisherman  grimly  sucked  his 
Brobdingnagian  cigarette.  Soon  a  decisive  slanting  move- 
ment of  the  long  float  led  him  to  strike  sharply,  and  his  great 
rod  bent  to  the  encounter.  Two  or  three  struggles  appeared 
to  exhaust  the  bream,  and  they  were  netted  in  succession 
without  much  finessing  or  trouble.  .My  companion  thus 
caught  seven  fish  in  the  course  of  an  hour.  Then  my  turn 
arrived.  To  my  chagrin  I  had  been  wholly  unable  to  throw 
my  delicate  tackle  out  to  the  baited  ground,  but  now  the 
porcupine  quill  went  clear  away  at  a  shoot ;  to  be  brief,  the 
drawn  gut  parted  at  the  sullen  resistance  to  the  too  eager 
strike,  and  the  boatman,  emitting  a  great  oath,  said  we  should 
get  no  more  sport. 

"If  it  had  been  summer,"  he  said,  "it  would  not  have 
mattered  so  much  ;  we  should  have  whacked  'em  out  like  a 
shot ;  but  it's  all  up  now." 

And  even  so  it  proved. 

The  processes  necessary  to  successful  bream-fishing,  like 
those  insisted  upon  by  barbel-fishers,  are  not  nice.  Ground 


102  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

baiting  hours  before  you  fish  is  a  necessity.  Great  fat  lob- 
worms, or  unsavoury  brandlings,  are  the  orthodox  bait,  and 
the  fish  himself  is  covered  with  slime  that  is  not  pleasant  to 
handle.  No  angler  would  care  to  fish  often  for  bream  if 
there  were  other  fish  within  his  reach,  but  in  Bedfordshire 
and  Huntingdonshire  men  of  the  artisan  type  manifest  a 
rooted  affection  for  the  sport,  and  wherever  bream  exist, 
having  found  the  same  predilection,  I  always  look  upon  the 
broad,  fork-tailed/ light  brown  bottom-grubber  as  a  kind  of 
working  man's  candidate. 

Hard  by  a  village  I  once  visited  in  Yorkshire  there  ran  a 
canal  in  which  there  were  a  good  many  bream.  Amongst 
the  men  who  at  about  "six  feet  intervals  lined  the  banks  on 
a  summer's  evening  was  a  quaint,  shrewd  Barnsley  pitman, 
with  whom  I  became  very  familiar.  He  would  think  nothing 
of  a  fourteen  miles  walk  for  the  sake  of  three  hours  with  his 
pet  bream,  than  which,  he  firmly  believed,  no  nobler  game 
swam  the  water.  He  was  a  consummate  coarse  fish  angler, 
and  a  hero  amongst  the  Yorkshire  Waltonians.  Poor  fellow  ! 
Years  passed,  and  I  had  forgotten  him.  Then  I  saw  him, 
blackened  and  dead,  one  of  a  ghastly  row  of  unfortunate 
colliers  just  brought  up  from  a  pit,  laid  out  on  benches,  and 
ticketed,  till  the  coroner  should  inquire  into  the  miserable 
circumstances  which  without  warning  cut  them  off  from  the 
land  of  the  living. 

Before  taking  leave  of  the  Ouse  I  ought  to  add  that  it 
contains  other  fish  than  bream  and  pike.  Perch  of  two 
pounds  and  upwards  are  often  caught,  and  the  anglers  who 
give  themselves  entirely  to  perch-fishing  will  not  allow  that 
the  Ouse  is  second  to  any  other  stream  either  as  to  the 
quantity  or  quality  of  the  bold,  handsomely  decorated  fellow 


IN  THE  MIDLANDS.  103 

which  we  all  know  so  well.  I  have  slain  heavy  baskets  of 
fair-sized  perch — that  is  to  say,  three-quarters  of  a  pound  or 
thereabouts — under  the  railway  bridge  across  the  Huntingdon 
Racecourse,  and  I  took  there  close  to  the  bank  one  of  a 
pound  and  a  half,  with  a  mere  scrap  of  worm.  Chub  are 
common  in  the  Ouse  and  afford  good  evening  sport  with  the 
fly,  and  roach  of  course  swarm  in  such  a  stream  :  eels  like- 
wise. The  Bedford  district  I  have  mentioned  because  it  is 
nearest  London,  but  there  is  good  angling  for  pike  in  the 
Ouse  along  the  five  or  six  miles  of  which  St.  Ives  may  be 
made  the  half-way  house. 

Without  intending  to  be  disrespectful  or  unfaithful  to  the 
queenly  Thames,  I  must  profess  an  undying  adoration  of 
the  Trent,  the  many-armed  Trent  that  takes  much  of  its  in- 
spiration, if  not  its  source,  from  the  breezy  highlands  of 
Derbyshire.  It  is  a  kingly  river,  and  terminates  its  long 
stately  journey  by  mingling  with  the  waters  of  another  river, 
many-armed  and  mountain-flavoured  as  itself — the  York- 
shire Ouse.  The  only  resemblance  existing  between  the 
Ouse  of  the  Midlands  and  the  river  which  is  supposed  to  be 
the  north  and  south  division  line  of  the  kingdom  is  that  each 
has  its  poet.  Cowper  sang  of  the  Ouse,  Drayton  and  Kirke 
White  of  the  Trent.  Drayton,  adopting  a  prevailing  legend, 
has  a  somewhat  off-hand  way  of  accounting  for  the  word 
"Trent":— 

11  There  should  be  found  in  her  of  fishes  thirty  kind ; 
And  thirty  abbeys  great,  in  places  fat  and  rank, 
Should  in  succeeding  time  be  builded  on  her  bank; 
And  thirty  several  streams  from  many  a  sundry  way 
Unto  her  greatness  should  their  wat'ry  tribute  pay." 

Including  the  Derbyshire  streams  which  are  swallowed  up 


io4  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

in  it,  the  Trent,  no  doubt,  could  yield  specimens  of  every 
fish  known  in  English  rivers.  The  Ouse  I  have  chosen  to 
describe  as  sober-minded  and  substantial.  The  Trent,  so 
far  as  I  have  seen  it,  is  a  sparkling  genius  that  makes  its 
presence  known  by  infinite  brightness,  dash,  and  impulse. 
The  Ouse  is  a  solid  line  of  infantry,  the  Trent  a  glittering 
squadron  of  light  cavalry.  The  scenery  of  the  Trent  is 
amongst  the  best  to  be  found  in  the  Midlands,  while  there 
are  spots  nowhere  to  be  excelled  this  side  of  Severn  or 
Tweed.  Serving  the  busy  Potteries  in  the  outset  of  its 
course,  it  soon  becomes  aristocratic,  and  runs  through 
Trentham,  whose  trees  it  lovingly  laves,  flowing  with  mode- 
rated pace  through  the  beautiful  park,  and  lending  new 
charms  to  its  far-famed  gardens,  terraces,  temples,  fountains, 
and  hanging  plantations.  In  the  valley  which  the  Trent 
gladdens  are  other  great  family  seats — Meaford,  Sandon, 
Ingestre,  Tixall,  Hagley,  and  Donington,  where  cliffs  enter 
romantically  into  the  composition  of  the  landscape. 

My  most  intimate  angling  acquaintance  with  the  Trent  is 
confined  to  a  few  miles  below  Nottingham,  and  unkind  is 
the  fate  which  prevents  me  at  least  once  every  summer  from 
standing  knee-deep  for  a  day  or  two  in  the  broad  gravel 
bedded  and  rippling  stream.  It  is  Kirke  White  who  applies 
to  the  river  the  term  "rippling,"  and  the  term  is  photo- 
graphic. The  hapless  lad  loved  to  escape  from  the 
drudgery  of  the  hosier's  shop  to  the  river's  brink;  and, 
if  possible,  afterwards,  when  more  congenially  engaged  at 
Mr.  Coldham's  law  office,  where  in  busy  times  he  attended 
from  eight  in  the  morning  till  eight  in  the  evening,  finding 
an  hour  still  later  for  Latin  study,  thither  tended  his  foot- 
steps. In  his  seventeenth  year — "scarcely  the  work  of 


IN  THE  MIDLANDS.  105 

thirty  minutes  this  morning "  he  told  his  brother  Neville- 
he  wrote  seven  four-line  verses  of  elegy  on  the  death  of  a 
gentleman,  drowned  in  the  Trent  while  bathing,  and  says  : — 

"  Of  thee,  as  early  I,  with  vagrant  feet, 

Hail  the  grey-sandal'd  morn  in  Colwick's  vale; 
Of  thee  my  sylvan  reed  shall  warble  sweet, 
And  wild-wood  echoes  shall  repeat  the  tale." 

When  the  dark  days  of  disease  and  anxiety  called  upon 
the  poet  to  recruit  his  overworked  frame  he  went  across  to 
the  little  village  of  Wilford,  near  the  Clifton  woods,  and  it 
was  in  its  churchyard  that  he  applied  to  the  Trent  the 
designation  I  have  repeated: — 

"  It  is  a  lovely  spot !     The  sultry  Sun, 
From  his  meridian  height,  endeavours  vainly 
To  pierce  the  shadowy  foliage,  while  the  zephyr 
Comes  wafting  gently  o'er  the  rippling  Trent, 
And  plays  about  my  wan  cheek.     'Tis  a  nook  most  pleasant.  " 

The  Trent  anglers  according  to  my  observation  are  more 
sportsmanlike  than  their  brethren  of  the  Thames,  and  much 
more  skilful  as  "  all-round  "  anglers.  Punts  on  the  Trent 
are  the  exception  instead  of  the  rule ;  and  the  Nottingham 
anglers  tell  you  that  punt-fishing,  pure  and  simple,  is  not 
Waltonianism  of  the  highest  kind.  In  the  meadows  close  to 
Nottingham,  even  amongst  the  lads  who  find  a  livelihood  in 
catching  dace  for  bait,  a  frank,  generous  spirit  exists  amongst 
rivals,  and  there  is  no  jealousy,  grudging,  or  meanness. 
The  Nottingham  system,  viz.,  the  running  line  and  travelling 
bait,  is  more  artistic  and  telling  than  the  tight  line,  and  the 
Thames  and  Colne  men,  recognising  this,  are  adopting  it 
more  and  more. 


io6  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

The  Trent,  notwithstanding  the  proverbial  variety  of  its 
finny  population,  is  chiefly  interesting  to  the  angler  for  its 
dace,  barbel,  and  pike.  Sport  with  them  may  be  reckoned 
upon  at  times  and  in  places  where  nothing  else  could  be 
procured.  Persons  familiar  with  the  river  and  its  deeps 
find  it  worthy  of  all  their  attention  as  a  haunt  of  pike. 
Here  and  there — and  it  is  yearly  becoming  still  more  "  here 
and  there" — you  may  pick  up  a  grayling.  Th.e  Trent  was 
once  a  noted  grayling  stream,  and  Hofland,  one  of  the  most 
reliable  of  angling  authorities,  a  pleasant  writer,  and  a  prince 
of  fly-fishers  and  fly-makers,  thought  well  thirty  years  ago  of 
the  river  in  that  character.  A  few  grayling  are  still  caught 
every  season,  but  they  are  fast  disappearing.  Salmon, 
though  not  unknown  in  the  Trent,  are  also  few  and  far 
between. 

As  J;o  barbel,  take  the  following  quotation  from  a  pub- 
lished paragraph  :  "Mr.  B.  and  a  friend  captured  over  TOO 
pounds  in  one  day  near  Colingham,  and  Mr.  C.  and  a  friend 
sent  over  So  pounds  on  Wednesday  night,  with  instructions 
to  meet  the  trains  every  night,  for  they  were  hooking  them 
every  swim.  Some  were  over  nine  pounds  each." 

I  saw  a  pretty  afternoon's  sport  one  August  day  under 
the  lee  of  a  lonely  wood  below  Lowdham.  A  groom  and 
two  friends  in  a  boat,  after  a  few  swims  finding  no  bites, 
went  ashore  for  an  hour  and  returned.  The  barbel  at  the 
previous  trial  were  splashing  like  porpoises  and  turning  over 
on  the  top  of  the  water ;  now  they  were  still  as  mice,  and 
the  three  men  at  their  first  swim  were  fast  to  a  fish  each. 
So  they  went  on  catching  great  ruddy  brown  lively  fellows 
which  gave  capital  sport,  and  required  every  one  of  them 
careful  playing  and  a  strong  landing  net.  The  bottom  of 


IN  THE  MIDLANDS.  107 

their  boat  was  covered  with  spoil  when  the  game  was  thrown 
up. 

Old  Nottingham,  or,  as  I  believe  it  should  be  called, 
Trent  Bridge,  ancient  as  the  times  of  Edward  the  Elder, 
was  a  many-arched  and  picturesque  structure,  from  which  it 
was  possible  between  the  racing  currents  to  catch  barbel. 
There  was  a  noted  angler  in  the  town  whom,  for  con- 
venience, we  will  designate  Bowles,  and  he  was  quite 
historical  as  to  barbel — a  Gamaliel  at  whose  feet  stocking- 
weaving  Sauls  sat  to  learn  the -wisdom  pertaining  to  greaves, 
dew-worms,  marsh-worms,  brandlings,  gilt-tails,  red-worms, 
tegg-worms,  peacock  reds,  dock  grubs,  and  so  forth  :  in 
which  your  Trent  anglers,  let  me  say,  are  remarkably  learned. 
Bowles  was  an  institution  on  Nottingham  Bridge.  Trades- 
men and  workfolks  strolling  that  way  in  the  cool  of  the 
evening  naturally  looked  for  Bowles,  his  spectacles,  and  his 
strong  barbel  rod.  But  he,  I  am  informed,  was  never  seen 
at  his  post  after  the  following  occurrence  : — 

The  word  was  passed  that  Bowles  had  hooked  a  monster 
barbel.  The  news  penetrated  into  the  town,  ascended  to 
the  workshops,  ran  along  the  meadows  up  and  down,  and 
caused  great  excitement.  Looms,  counters,  tea-tables, 
business  and  pleasure  were  alike  forsaken,  and  there  was  a 
regular  stampede  in  the  direction  of  Nottingham  Bridge. 
Sure  enough  Bowles  was  engaged  in  a  mighty  struggle. 
The  old  man  perspired,  but  never  blenched. 

The  crowd  became  immense.  Bowles  would  winch  the 
monster  in  within  a  few  yards  of  the  shore,  when,  whew  ! 
out  it  shot  into  the  stream  like  an  arrow  from  the  bow. 
The  superb  skill  and  patience  of  Bowles  were  audibly  com- 
mended ;  he  was  too  wily  to  check  the  monster  in  those 


io8  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

furious  rushes,  but  waited  till  the  line  slackened  to  winch 
him  cautiously  and  proudly  in,  amidst  such  cries  as  "  Bravo, 
Bowles,"  or  "  He  won't  get  over  you,  guv'nor,"  or  "  Give 
him  time,  Georgy." 

The  noise  of  the  crowd  hushed  at  last,  for  young  Badger 
had,  by  direction,  gone  down  to  the  water's  edge  to  use  the 
landing  net.  Bowles  was  bracing  himself  up  for  a  final 
effort.  Wind,  wind,  wind  went  the  winch ;  in,  in,  in  came 
the  monster ;  "  Be  careful,  Badger,  be  careful,"  said  the 
crowd;  "Now,  then,  nip  him,  nip  him,"  shouted  Bowles. 
Ah,  me  !  what  a  tremendous  roar  there  was  when  the 
monster  was  landed — a  drowned  retriever,  with  whose 
blown-out  carcase  the  eddy  had  been  playing  unkind 
pranks  ! 

Writing  in  1839,  Hofland,  whose  name  one  would  ever 
mention  with  the  tribute  of  admiration  due  to  a  master-hand 
and  master  spirit,  also  tells  a  story,  though  of  a  different 
kind,  about  Nottingham  Bridge.  At  the  risk  of  being 
abused  for  the  unpardonable  sin  of  garrulity  I  should  like  to 
repeat  it,  for  the  sake  of  pointing  a  moral  to  adorn  his  tale. 
Listen,  then,  to  Hofland  : — 

"  When  I  was  a  boy,  and  living  at  Nottingham,  I  frequently  ac- 
companied, to  the  River  Trent,  a  gentleman  who  was  fond  of  fishing 
for  salmon  from  the  bridge ;  he  used  to  stand  within  the  recess  of  a 
pier,  and  baited  with  two  lobworms  ;  he  had  a  bullet  on  his  line  about 
twelve  inches  above  the  hook,  with  at  least  eighty  yards  of  line  upon 
his  reel.  He  dropped  his  bait  into  the  eddies,  or  pools,  near  the 
starlings;  and  in  this  manner  he  frequently  caught  large  barbel, 
and  sometimes  a  salmon.  On  one  occasion,  when  I  was  only  nine 
years  old,  I  followed  him  to  the  bridge,  and  after  I  had  patiently 
watched  him  for  two  or  three  hours,  without  seeing  a  fish  caught,  he 
gave  the  rod  into  my  hands,  showing  me  how  to  support  it  on  the 
bridge,  and  telling  me,  if  I  felt  a  tug  at  the  line,  to  let  it  run  freely, 
and  not  to  touch  the  reel,  but  to  call  out  loudly,  that  either  the  toll- 


IN  THE  MIDLANDS.  109 

bar  keeper  or  himself  might  come  to  my  assistance.  He  then  went  to 
a  public-house  at  a  short  distance  from  the  turnpike  house  for  refresh- 
ment, and  had  not  been  gone  many  minutes,  when  to  my  great  sur- 
prise and  delight,  I  felt  two  smart  strokes  at  the  line,  which  then  ran 
out  furiously,  whilst  I  called  out  lustily,  to  the  extent  of  my  voice,  and 
soon  brought  both  my  friend  and  the  gatekeeper  to  my  assistance. 
They  were  just  in  time  to  turn  the  fish  before  it  had  run  out  the  extent 
of  the  line.  A  boat  was  procured,  and  assistance  given  on  the  water  to 
the  angler  on  the  bridge,  and,  after  nearly  an  hour's  labour  and 
anxiety,  the  fish  was  landed,  and  proved  to  be  a  salmon,  in  beautiful 
condition,  weighing  eighteen  pounds  and  a  half ;  so  that  I  may  say  (in 
one  sense)  I  caught  a  salmon  at  nine  years  of  age,  a  circumstance 
which,  undoubtedly,  greatly  fed  my  early  passion  for  angling,  and 
might  have  been  a  foundation  for  my  becoming  a  great  salmon-fisher, 
but  circumstances  have  prevented  me  from  having  much  practice  in 
this  noble  branch  of  our  art." 

The  moral  to  which  I  call  the  reader's  attention  is  con- 
tained in  the  query — Where  are  those  salmon?  Let 
Messrs.  Buckland  and  Walpole  answer  where,  for  is  it  not  in 
their  power  to  bring  them  back?  Near  Newark  (where 
the  best  dace  shallows  are  to  be  found,  let  me  interject)  I 
saw  a  salmon  leaping  last  year ;  the  year  before  I  saw  what 
everybody  said  was  a  salmon — and  appearances  favoured 
the  supposition — rising  repeatedly  a  few  miles  below 
Nottingham  town. 

Would  you  not  consider  sixteen  dozen  of  dace,  the  lawful 
capture  of  the  artificial  fly,  a  pretty  decent  day's  sport  ?  I 
saw  it  with  my  own  eyes  done  by  a  Nottingham  angler,  on 
a  July  day.  It  was  at  a  part  of  the  river  where,  broad 
though  it  is,  you  may  wade  across  :  and  wade  you  must  to 
do  the  best  that  can  be  done.  This  dace-rnaster  had 
occupied  the  same  compartment  of  the  train  as  I  had,  and 
had  courteously,  considering  my  strangerhood,  offered  to 
show  me  the  best  shallows  and  to  place  his  fly-book  at  my 
disposal.  He  laid  stress  upon  the  latter  because  a  special 


1 1  o  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

description  of  small  hackle  is  required.  His  fishing  boots, 
however,  gave  him  an  unapproachable  advantage.  Sixteen 
dozen  dace  and  three  or  four  pound  roach  lay  in  his  rush 
basket  when  we  met  at  night,  all  taken  by  a  thinly-made  red 
palmer  with  gold  twist.  Even  I,  the  stranger,  whipping 
from  the  bank,  could  show  over  four  dozen  silvery  fish, 
running  about  three  to  the  pound,  exquisitely  shaped,  and 
more  gamesome  than  the  dace  of  either  Thames  or  Colne. 
Anglers,  perhaps  I  need  not  labour  to  show,  do  not  always 
return  from  the  Trent  with  sixteen  dozen  dace,  but  they 
would  be  downcast  indeed  if  they  did  not  surpass  my  four 
dozen,  of  which,  nevertheless,  I  was  very  proud. 

Of  the  higher  waters  of  the  Trent — and  it  may  be  assumed 
as  a  safe  rule  with  all  rivers  which  minister  to  large  towns 
and  ultimately  become  navigable,  that  they  improve  for  the 
angler  as  you  ascend  them — Armstrong  writes  : — 

"  If  the  breathless  chase,  o'er  hill  and  dale, 
Exceed  your  strength,  a  sport  of  less  fatigue, 
Not  less  delightful,  the  prolific  stream 
Affords.     The  crystal  rivulet,  that  o'er 
A  stormy  channel  rolls  its  rapid  maze, 
.Swarms  with  the  silver  fry.     Such,  through  the  bounds 
Of  pastoral  Stafford,  runs  the  brawling  Trent." 

A  chapter  upon  Midland  Streams  would  be  incomplete 
without  a  word  upon  those  classic  tributaries  of  the  Trent, 
the  Dove  and  the  Derwent,  and  the  sub-tributary  the  Wye. 
And  a  word  only  may  suffice  for  rivers  immortalised  by 
Walton  and  Cotton,  and  by  the  numerous  disciples  who 
have  spoken  or  sung  their  beauties  until  this  day.  Time  has, 
unfortunately,  considerably  reduced  the  trout  and  grayling 
as  to  numbers,  but  the  angler  may  still  reap  honour  in  the 
well-known  dales  of  Derbyshire.  The  straits  of  Dovedale, 


IN  THE  MIDLANDS.  1 1 1 

romantic  Ashbourn,  Cotton's  fishing  house,  and  the  steeple 
shaped  rock  in  Pike  Pool — could  we  not  sketch  each  from 
memory,  so  familiar  are  we  with  the  written  and  pictorial 
descriptions  of  them  ?  Of  the  modern  angling  I  will  say 
no  further  than  that  the  bungler  will  not  deprive  Dove, 
Derwent,  or  Wye  of  its  wary  denizens.  It  is  difficult  to 
rise  them  at  any  time,  and,  that  accomplished,  the  battle  has 
to  be  won  with  the  tiniest  hook  and  finest  of  gut  lines. 

Once  these  waters  were  free,  but  there  is  little  left  now 
unpreserved.  Some  portions,  however,  may  be  reached 
through  the  consent  of  loca.1  fishing  clubs,  and  at  Rowsley 
and  Bakewell,  where  both  Derwent  and  Wye  are  within 
short  distances,  the  hotel  landlords  are  allowed  by  the  Duke 
of  Devonshire  to  grant  tickets  to  customers.  There  are 
plenty  of  flymakers  in  all  the  Derbyshire  fishing  villages, 
and  it  is  impossible  to  improve  upon  the  neat  little  hackles 
which  they  provide  according  to  the  sky,  water,  and  season. 


PRACTICAL  NOTES  UPON  BREAM,  BARBEL,  AND  CHUB 
FISHING. 

In  the  preceding  chapters  I  have  pointed  out  the  fishing 
which  may  be  had  in  April,  May,  and  June,  and  the  present 
notes  are  intended  to  apply  to  July,  and  to  the  coarse  fish, 
which,  often  taken  in  June,  are  more  generally  looked  for 
in  their  heyday — namely,  July  and  August. 

Bream  are  sometimes  taken  in  the  Thames  and  Lea,  but 
they  prefer  stiller  waters,  and  there  is  no  better  bream  river 
in  the  country  than  the  Ouse.  The  wholesale  nature  of  the 
sport  when  it  does  come  often  tempts  anglers  in  the  cool 
mornings  and  evenings  of  our  hottest  month  to  forget  or 


1 1 2  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

stifle  their  dislike  to  the  fish  and  the  "  messy  "  nature  of  the 
mode  of  capture.  Being  very  shy  fellows,  although  you 
may  kill  a  hundredweight  of  them,  there  is  some  skill 
required. 

There  is  not  much  to  add  to  what  has  been  said  of  the 
bream  in  the  foregoing  chapter.  Always,  however,  fish  for 
bream  on  the  ground,  and  keep  out  of  sight.  Be  slow  to 
strike,  for  the  bream,  like  the  tench,  loves  to  suck  the  bait,  to 
rise  with  it  until  the  float  is  flat  on  the  water,  and  yet  to 
keep  clear  of  the  hook.  A  large  bait  being  preferred,  and 
the  mouth  being  narrow  and  small,  ample  time,  in  reason, 
should  be  given.  The  largest  bream  I  have  seen  were 
three  specimens  caught  by  a  gentleman  up  the  Lea,  and 
exhibited  in  the  office  window  of  the  Field.  They  were 
handsome  and  beautifully  stuffed  fish,  and  each  had  weighed 
an  ounce  or  so  more  or  less  than  seven  pounds.  Walton 
understood  bream-fishing  well,  and  is  right  in  his  observation : 
"  After  three  or  four  days'  fishing  together  your  game  will  be 
very  shy  and  wary,  and  you  shall  hardly  get  above  a  bite  or 
two  at  a  baiting :  then  your  only  way  is  to  desist  from  your 
sport."  Ephemera  mentions  that  he  has  frequently  caught 
bream  with  the  artificial  fly — brown  palmers,  the  governor, 
and  yellow  and  white  moths. 

Barbel-fishing  is  carried  to  a  pitch  of  excellence  both  in  the 
Thames  and  Trent,  and  in  both  it  is  no  uncommon  thing 
to  slay  over  fifty  pounds  weight  at  a  sitting.  Ground  baiting 
with  chopped  lobworms  is  the  necessary  preliminary,  and 
Nottingham  is  the  great  lobworm  emporium,  from  which  the 
Thames  men  in  their  most  sanguinary  campaigns  order 
them  by  telegraph.  The  barbel  has  an  unconquerable 
spirit  and  a  strong  body  of  his  own,  and  though  he,  like  his 


IN  THE  MIDLANDS.  1 1 3 

relative  the  bream,  need  never  be  thought  of  as  a  common 
article  of  food,  he  is  a  foeman  worthy  of  your  (Limerick) 
steel.  Ten,  twelve,  and  fourteen  pound  fish  have  been  taken 
from  both  Thames  and  Trent,  and  the  barbel  has  this  point 
in  his  favour — once  fairly  hooked,  his  leather  mouth  will  not 
give  way,  so  that  the  angler  may  cope  with  him  in  the  con- 
fident hope  that  with  patience  and  care  the  prize  is  his.  As 
the  fish  loves  swift  deep  streams,  and  the  company  of  his 
fellows,  barbel  angling  at  successful  times  is  a  merry  busi- 
ness both  as  to  quantity  and  quality. 

The  chub  is  on  a  par  with  the  other  coarse  fish  for  eating 
purposes,  but  he  is  entitled  to  respect  as  a  greedy  fly- taker 
and  a  timid  member  of  the  brotherhood  of  fish.  "  What 
shall  be  done  with  my  chub  or  cheven  that  I  have  caught  ?" 
asks  Venator.  "  Marry,  sir,  it  shall  be  given  away  to  some 
poor  body,"  replies  Piscator.  You  cannot  do  wrong  by 
following  that  example.  If  it  were  my  fate  to  catch  a  basket- 
ful of  chub,  bream,  or  barbel,  every  day,  I  know  how  to 
dispose  of  them  so  as  to  make  the  eyes  of  many  little  folks 
glisten  at  the  prospect  of  an  unwonted  meal.  Hunger,  strong 
condiments,  and  not  too  high  a  standard  of  taste  make 
them  acceptable  and  palatable.  Chub  will  take  a  variety 
of  baits.  I  have  known  him  caught  with  a  live  minnow,  a 
dead  gudgeon,  worms,  gentles,  pastes,  greaves,  bullock's 
pith,  fat  bacon,  and  pounded  cheese.  But  for  his  readiness 
to  take  the  fly  I  should  almost  write  the  chavender  a  winter 
fish.  The  chub  is  much  disconcerted  at  the  hooking  of  a 
comrade ;  the  shoal  will  pursue  an*unfortunate  member  to 
your  very  landing  net,  and  take  remarkably  good  care  not  to 
imitate  his  conduct  for  some  time  to  come.  In  the  Loddon 
there  are  enormous  chub,  and  I  know  of  an  instance  in  that 

i 


ii4  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

river  of  a  Leviathan  following  a  hooked  juvenile  to  the  bank, 
and  by  a  direct  blow  delivering  him  from  the  spoiler.  This 
might  have  been  an  accident,  but  the  movements  of  the 
chivalrous  cheven  rendered  it  impossible  to  doubt  that  it 
was  an  accident  purposely  committed.  There  are  some 
chub  in  the  Lea,  and  the  Lea  men  are  fond  of  taking 
them  with  a  blow  line,  and  live  grasshoppers  or  "  daddy- 
long-legs."  The  Trent,  Ouse,  Thames,  and  indeed  all 
our  large  rivers,  contain  chub.  By  a  riverside  it  is 
necessary  to  keep  your  shadow  from  the  water.  The 
chub  requires  as  much  stalking  as  a  Highland  deer. 
Nothing  is  lost  by  kneeling  down  on  the  grass  above  or 
below  a  chub  hole  or  shallow  where  you  know  chub  are 
swimming,  and  waiting  five  minutes  in  solemn  stillness  until 
you  begin  operations,  and  if  you  can  contrive  to  pitch  your 
artificial  bee,  palmer,  or  moth  upon  the  brink's  herbage  and 
let  it  drop  quite  casually  into  the  river  so  much  the  better. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

WHARFEDALE. 

"  A  day  without  too  bright  a  beam, 

A  warm,  but  not  a  scorching  sun  ; 
A  southern  gale  to  curl  the  stream, 
And,  master,  half  our  work  is  done." 

FEW  rambles  with  his  rod  will  afford  the  angler  more 
pleasure,  none  will  be  with  better  welcome  recalled  during 
those  musings  when,  lounging  in  the  winter-time  by  the 
ruddy  fire  in  a  stormy  twilight,  he  turns  over  page  after^page 
of  that  wonderful  and  never-failing  photographic  album 
which  is  stored  with  the  plates  of  memory,  than  his  visit 
to  Wharfedale.  It  is  an  autumn's  amusement  that  will  well 
bear  the  winter's  reflection. 

The  Southrons  of  this  kingdom  are  guilty  of  a  heavy 
crime ;  they  do  not  know  as  much  about  Yorkshire  as  they 
ought  to  do.  Most  people  I  have  noticed — except  perhaps 
the  Germans — exercise  the  right  of  remaining  remarkably 
ignorant  of  their  own  country :  and  it  must  be  confessed 
with  shamefacedness  that  we  English  are  not  a  whit  behind 
other  nations  in  general  ignorance  of  the  beauties  of  our  own 
fatherland.  Yorkshire  especially  suffers  from  this  singular 
neglect.  You  meet  with  men  and  women  who  are  aware 
that  the  St.  Leger  is  run  at  Doncaster,  and  maybe  that 
Doncaster  is  in  Yorkshire;  that  there  are  springs  of  nasty, 
though  perhaps  wholesome,  mineral  water  at  Harrogate,, 


1 1 6  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

and  that  Scarborough  is  a  fashionable  and  late  watering- 
place.  They  may  possibly,  too,  remember  being  taught 
at  school  that  Yorkshire  is  the  largest  county  in  England ; 
they  may  be  in  a  position  to  assure  you  that  it  produces  a 
popular  pudding  which  mates  worthily  with  the  Roast  Beef 
of  Old  England ;  they  have  vague  ideas  that  it  is  famous 
for  "  tykes." 

Yet  Yorkshire  has  been  gifted  with  natural  advantages 
and  charms  which  are  unrivalled.  I  have  set  to  myself  in 
this  chapter  the  task  of  gossiping  chiefly  about  the  grayling 
as  you  find  him  in  the  romantic  Wharfe,  else  I  could  fill 
many  a  page  with  attempted  glorifications  of  the  sweet 
wooded  dales,  the  lofty  fells,  the  far-stretching  wolds,  the 
rolling  moors,  the  rare  historical  associations,  and  the 
bounteous  mineral  and  agricultural  features  of  the  rich 
county  which  covers  5,983  square  miles  of  territory  as  im- 
portant as  any  to  the  welfare  of  the  State  : — 

"The  lofty  woods ;  the  forests  wide  and  long, 

Adorned  with  leaves  and  branches  fresh  and  green, 
In  whose  cool  bow'rs  the  birds  with  chanting  song 

Do  welcome  with  their  quire  the  summer's  queen. 
The  meadows  fair,  where  Flora's  gifts  among 

Are  inteimix'd,  the  verdant  grass  between  ; 
The  silver  scaled  fish  that  softly  swim 

Within  the  brooks  and  crystal  wat'ry  brim." 

In  justice  to  my  readers  I  feel  moved  to  admit  the  possi- 
bility of  looking  upon  Wharfedale  with  eyes  that  refused  to 
behold  defects,  of  hurrying  to  its  woods  and  streams  in  a 
frame  of  mind  under  which  I  should  have  magnified  into 
picturesqueness  the  most  ordinary  landscape.  In  a  word, 
I  had  been  attending  the  annual  meeting  of  the  British 
Association.  I  had  drenched  myself  with  science  :  had 


WHARFEDALE.  117 

perse veringly  sat  out  the  sectional  gatherings ;  had  courage- 
ously endeavoured  to  follow  dissertations  on  dirt,  dust,  and 
brickbats  ;  had  pretended  to  be  interested  in  discussions  on 
shoddy,  in  the  homologues  of  oxalic  acid,  thermal  conduc- 
tivity, protoplasm,  the  electrical  phenomena  which  accom- 
pany the  contraction  of  the  cup  of  Venus's  fly-trap,  hyper- 
elliptic  functions,  and  serpent  worship  in  the  pre-historic 
era. 

These  are  serious  subjects,  and  far  be  it  from  me  to  scoff 
at  the  learned  papers  read  to  explain  them.  On  the  con- 
trary I  owe  them  a  special  vote  of  thanks,  which  I  hereby 
propose,  second,  and  carry  mm.  con.,  for  the  excellent  pre- 
paration they  proved  for  the  moment  of  release.  Bradford 
was  eminently  hospitable  and  pleasant  during  that  British 
Association  visit,  but  there  was  one  member,  I  can  honestly 
vouch,  who  joyfully  rushed  to  the  ticket  office  and  booked 
"  straight  away,"  as  the  railway  porters  have  it,  to  Otley, 
and  who,  putting  away  the  spectacles  and  solemn  de- 
meanour that  became  a  savant  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
•lit  his  meerschaum  and  began  to  overhaul  his  fly-book  the 
moment  the  train  started. 

The  Wharfe  illustrates  the  old  saying  "  Variety  is  charm- 
ing," for  it  is  a  decided  mixture  of  gentleness  and  anger. 
You  would  scarcely  fancy,  standing  on  the  handsome 
bridge  spanning  it  at  Tadcaster,  that  the  docile  river  which 
here  begins  to  be  navigable  is  so  obstreperous  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  dale.  The  scenery  of  Lower  Wharfedale  is  not 
so  striking  as  that  which  delights  you  as  you  push  upwards, 
but  the  grayling  fishing  is  infinitely  superior.  Strolling 
down  stream  on  the  right  bank  at  Boston  Spa,  for  example, 
there  is  some  open  water  that  should  be  tried  in  passing. 


1 1 8  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

It  would  be  convenient  perhaps  to  make  known  to  all 
whom  it  may  concern  that  some  of  the  best  portions  of  the 
Wharfe  are  strictly  preserved,  and  that  the  angler  generally 
should  fish  rather  down  than  up  the  stream.  Bearing  this 
in  mind,  let  us  proceed  towards  Wetherby ;  at  a  place 
called  Flint  Mills  there  is  a  splendid  piece  of  grayling 
water,  but  it  is  difficult  to  obtain  the  requisite  permission  to 
bring  it  under  contribution.  Wetherby  may  be  passed  by 
lightly,  but  not  Collingham.  Even  now  the  angling  there 
is  good,  but  it  has,  in  common  with  that  of  every  fishing 
station  in  the  country,  greatly  deteriorated  during  the  last 
few  years.  Above  Harewood,  if  you  are  fortunate  enough 
to  possess  the  "  Open  Sesame  "  to  the  preserves  at  Arthing- 
ton,  you  may  capture  plenty  of  grayling  and  a  few  trout. 
About  twenty  years  ago  an  angling  club  at  Harewood 
rented  one  side  of  the  stream,  and  then  the  grayling  fishing 
of  the  Wharfe  was  in  its  prime.  I  recently  conversed  with 
a  middle-aged  gentleman  who  was  born  in  the  district,  and 
he  assured  me  he  once  saw  a  basket  of  seventy-five  grayling 
taken  with  the  fly  in  one  day  by  one  rod  between  Colling- 
ham and  Woodhall — a  piece  of  luck,  I  need  scarcely  add, 
never  to  be  approached  in  these  later  days. 

At  Otley,  for  some  cause  not  very  explainable,  grayling 
are  not  so  numerous  as  trout ;  but  whether  your  purpose  in 
visiting  Wharfedale  be  rambling  or  angling,  or  both  (which 
is  far  better),  Otley  will  be  found  a  convenient  starting- 
point,  or  even  head  centre.  Here  I  had  proposed  making 
a  somewhat  protracted  halt,  knowing  that  sport  would 
diminish  in  proportion  as  the  scenery  of  Upper  Wharfe- 
dale increased  in  variety  and  beauty.  Besides,  Otley  is 
in  itself  a  pretty  place— a  sweet  refuge  for  the  weary.  If 


WHARFEDALE.  1 1 9 

it  be  any  gratification  to  know  that  long  before  the 
Conquest  the  manor  hereabouts  was  given  to  the  Arch- 
bishops of  York,  open  that  red-covered  book  on  the  coffee- 
room  table,  and  you  will  see  the  details  in  black  and 
white. 

I  remember  reading  somewhere  in  ~a  treatise  on  grayling 
that  the  fish  was  introduced  into  the  country  by  monks 
when  England  was  undisgtiisedly — to  coin  a  word,  and  of 
course  ^without  offence  to  any  creature — a  monkery,  and 
that  the  good  St.  Ambrose  was  particularly  fond  of  the 
grayling.  The  saint  in  that  case  knew  what  was  good  for 
himself.  This  thought  occurred  to  me  on  glancing  at  the 
guide-book  literature  of  the  coffee-room,  and  I  then  further 
remembered  how  the  saints  and.  'abbots  and  holy  friars 
invariably  pitched  their  abodes  neai  a  river  of  great  fish- 
producing  capabilities,  and^how  they  often  supplemented 
the  stream  with  ponds  and  stews  for  the  more  ready  and 
certain  supply  of  their  larders.  It  is  generally  conceded 
that  the  grayling,  not  being  indigenous  to  English  streams, 
must  have  been  imported  from  the  Continent,  probably 
from  Germany,  and  the  monks  mi^ht  as  reasonably  be 
credited  with  the  importation  as  any  other  class  of 
men, 

I  should  have  remained  longer  at  Otley  had  I  not  on  the 
very  first  day  encountered  a  hair  of  thejdog  that  had  bitten 
me  at  Bradford.  A  learned  Dryasdust,  full  of  archaeology, 
having  remembered  my  face  at  the  sections,  fancied  my 
pleasure  would  be  consulted  by  giving  me  relief  "  in  kind," 
,  wherefore  the  worthy  gentleman  forthwith  pursued  me  re- 
lentlessly with  his  facts  and  fancies,  which  were,  truth  to 
tell,  a  pretty  equally  mixed  assortment.  He  told  me  that 


1 20  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

Athelstan  had  had  dealings  with  Otley,  and  I  asked  him  if  he 
knew  whether  that  eminent  Saxon  king  tied  his  own  flies. 
The  philosopher  at  first,  I  fear,  suspected  me  of  trying  to 
get  a  rise  out  of  him,  but  after  a  pause  meekly  informed  me 
that  he  had  perused  most  of  the  ancient  documents  con- 
cerning that  part  of  the  Riding,  but  had  observed  nothing 
that  would  throw  a  light  upon  that  subject.  I  am  not  sure 
to  this  moment  whether  the  patient  antiquarian  said  this  in 
humble  innocence  or  as  a  covert  rebuke. 

A  short  distance  out  of  the  town  stands  a  cliff  called  the 
Chevin,  and  this,  as  readers  of  old-fashioned  angling  books 
know,  with  a  trifling  difference  in  the  spelling,  is  also  the 
name  of  a  certain  fish. 

"  The  Chevin/'  said  the  rev.  gentleman,  "  used  to 
pre'sent  "- 

"  Ah  !  talking  of  chub,"  I  remarked,  "  do  you  ever  find 
any  in  the  Wharfe  ?" 

Then  the  archaeologist — who,  by  the  way,  was  not  the 
genial  informant  whom  \ve  are  always  glad  to  meet  and 
grateful  to  hear,  but  somewhat  of  a  bore  given  to 
conceit — gave  up  the  angler  as  a  bad  investment,  and 
shuffled  behind  him.  It  did  so  unfortunately  happen  that 
just  then  the  latter  was  on  the  point  of  casting  his  flies 
upon  the  stream,  and  somehow  or  other  the  archaeologist 
managed  to  receive  the  dropper  in  the  rim  of  his  wide- 
awake ;  indeed,  it  might  as  well  be  confessed  that  another 
inch  and  the  evening's  sport  would  have  included  an  ar- 
chaeologist's ear.  The  worthy  man,  however,  insisted  upon 
accompanying  me,  saw  me  to  my  chamber  door  at  night, 
and  was  waiting  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs  on  my  appear- 
ance in  the  morning.  The  grayling  of  Otley  were  no  doubt 


WHARFEDALE.  121 

gainers  by  this  intrusive  companionship,  inasmuch  as  the 
persecuted  angler  who  was  in  search  of — 

"  Respite respite,  and  nepenthe  " 

from  the  parliament  of  science,  lost  no  time  in  reckoning 
with  his  host  and  departing  from  the  "  field  of  Otho." 

The  railway  has  accomplished  many  wonders  and  over- 
come many  difficulties.  Steadily  and  surely  it  has  intruded 
into  the  realms  of  romance  and  reduced  them  to  its  own 
utilitarian  level.  But  Upper  Wharfedale  hitherto  has  defied 
it.  Nor  is  it  easy  to  perceive  how  it  is  possible  to  lay  down 
a  permanent  way  over  Barden  and  Conistone  Moors,  or  to 
convert  Bolton  Abbey  into  a  station  and  Great  Whernside 
into  a  terminus.  It  fills  me,  I  confess,  with  a  savage  glee 
to  spread  out  the  map  and  behold  how  the  iron  horse  has 
snorted  and  screamed  up  to  the  very  foot  of  the  balmy 
moorlands,  and  then  stopped  short,  sullen  and  defeated. 
Thrice  did  he  start  off  to  invade  the  district  of  which 
Skiptcn  may  be  taken  as  the  southern,  5-ipon  the  eastern, 
the  Westmoreland  border  the  western,  and  Barnard  Castle 
the  northern  limits.  At  Ilkley  he  was  frightened  by  Rom- 
bald's  Moor  and  the  uplands  towards  Bolton.  At  Pateley 
Bridge,  Dallowgill  and  Appletrewick  Moors  blocked  the 
way;  and  at  Leyburn  a  judicious  halt  was  sounded,  at 
least  for  the  present. 

None  but  strong,  enduring  pedestrians  can,  therefore,  do 
Wharfedale  full  justice,  and  it  may  be  here  said  generally 
that  every  turn  of  the  stream  from  Otley  to  its  source  under 
the  brow  of  Cam  Fell  will  repay  the  pedestrian,  and  reveal 
new  surprises  in  itself,  in  the  vistas  beyond,  and  in  the 
ever-varying  quantities  and  qualities  of  its  steep  wooded 
banks. 


1 2  2  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

Ilkley  and  Ben  Rhydding  receive  much  of  their  popu- 
larity from  the  scenery  of  the  Wharfe,  and  the  former  water- 
ing-place, so  well  known  to  hydropathists,  owes  its  repute 
as  much  to  the  little  impetuous  stream  galloping  over  the 
breezy  side  of  Rombalds,  as  to  the  bracing  mountain  air. 
But  we  cannot  afford  to  linger  here,  with  Bolton  Abbey 
beckoning  us  onward.  Bolton  Bridge,  reached  from  Ilkley 
by  a  delightful  five  miles  of  road,  overlooking  the  Wharfe  on 
the  right  and  skirting  umbrageous  woods  on  the  left,  will 
serve  admirably  as  the  wanderer's  temporary  head-quarters. 
The  hamlet  itself  offers  nothing  extraordinary  either  in  land- 
scape, architecture,  or  commerce,  but  the  view  above  and 
below  from  the  bridge  charmingly  combines  the  pastoral  and 
romantic  in  harmonious  proportions. 

Having  procured  his  ticket,  easily  obtainable  at  the  inns, 
and  turned  into  the  meadow  on  the  left  bank  of  the  river,  it 
would  save  time  if  the  angler  did  not  put  his  rod  together 
until  he  had  arrived  at  the  plantation  adjoining  the  grounds 
of  Bolton  Abbey.  Indeed  he  would  be  wise,  if  a  stranger 
to  the  far-famed  ruins,  to  inspect  them  before  going 
down  to  the  river,  and  possess  himself  of  the  legends  and 
architectural  features  of  the  place.  Both  are  fascinating. 
Let  us  sit  down  upon  this  meadow  grass  and  hear  the 
legend-in-chief. 

First  look  abroad.  For  a  little  space  in  front  and  across 
the  stream  you  have  a  park-like  prospect,  lawn  and  trees 
appearing  at  intervals.  Towards  the  priory,  however,  the 
noble  woods  close  in  high  and  thick,  making  us  curious  to 
see  how  the  Wharfe,  "  the  swift  Werfe  "  of  the  poet  Spenser, 
threads  its  way  through  the  devious  overhung  course.  In 
many  places  yonder  the  foliage  touches  the  water.  The 


WHARFEDALE.  1 2  3 

earlier  tints  of  autumn  are  already  stealing  over  the  leaves, 
for  the  sportsmen  have  for  three  weeks  been  amongst  the 
stubble  and  turnips,  and  we  can  hear  the  frequent  crack  of 
their  fowling-pieces  away  in  the  fields.  The  autumn  tints 
are  at  their  prime,  and  you  shall  not  be  able  to  deny  that 
Wharfedale  hereabouts  is  one  of  the  most  entrancing  of 
sights  for  those  who  love  the  garment  of  many  colours  with 
which  the  declining  year  adorns  itself:  for  this  reason,  and 
also  perhaps  because  the  grayling  is  in  good  condition  in 
October,  it  is  the  resort  of  visitors  when  other  places  are 
deserted. 

A  fine  herd  of  Herefords,  most  effective  of  all  cattle  as 
component  parts  of  a  landscape,  contentedly  muse  under 
the  trees  or  crop  the  succulent  herbage.  The  smoke  rises 
above  yonder  orchard  blue  and  straight,  sure  sign  that  the 
harvest  is  passed  and  summer  ended,  and  that  the  atmos- 
phere is  flavoured  with  frost.  A  healthy-faced  Yorkshire  boy 
swings  on  the  gate,  which  his  sisters — as  little  sisters,  bless 
them  !  always  cheerfully  do — laughingly  set  in  motion.  The 
stream  is  here  shallow  and  wide,  but  the  bouldery  bed  has 
been,  and  anon  will  be  again,  washed  by  a  furious  torrent, 
the  scouring  of  moor  and  fell  for  many  a  mile.  It  is  a  peculi- 
arity of  much  of  the  Wharfe  that  while  on  one  side  the  river's 
bed  shelves  very  gently  to  the  centre,  on  the  other  it  runs 
deep  under  a  steep  and  generally  curving  shore.  Higher  up 
the  stream  the  woods  lift  up  their  richly  plumed  heads  far 
towards  the  sky,  and  you  know  that  close  at  hand,  con- 
cealed behind  the  superabundant  foliage,  is  the  remnant  of 
what  was  once  Bolton  Abbey.  This  is  why  I  suggest  you 
should  lay  aside  your  rod  and  rest  a  space  here,  postponing 
acquaintance  with  the  grayling  in  favour  of  traditionary  lore. 


1 24  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

What  say  you,  then?  And  now  for  the  legend  of  Bolton 
Priory. 

Perhaps  on  second  thoughts  it  will  interest  us  more  if  we 
stroll  towards  it  and  talk  as  we  go.  The  field  we  are  now 
crossing,  and  whose  fine  soft  grass  rebounds  beneath  our 
footfall  as  if  it  were  the  turf  of  a  well-kept  lawn,  was  selected, 
they  say,  for  camping  ground  by  Prince  Rupert  on  his  way 
to  Marston  Moor,  and  if  that  impulsive  freebooter  acted  upon 
his  customary  principles  he  looted  yonder  farmyards  to  a 
pretty  good  tune.  The  old  priory  stands  in  the  centre  of 
a  picture  which  has  been  faithfully  filled  in  by  Whitakcr  in 
his  "  History  of  Craven  "  :— "  But  after  all  the  glories  of 
Bolton  are  on  the  north.  Whatever  the  most  fastidious 
taste  could  require  to  constitute  a  perfect  landscape  is  not 
only  found  here  but  in  its  proper  place.  In  front  and  im- 
mediately under  the  eyes  is  a  smooth  expanse  of  park-like 
enclosure,  spotted  with  native  elm,  ash,  etc.,  of  the  finest 
growth." 

(The  "etc.,"  you  \\ill  note,  includes  some  patriarchal 
beeches,  oaks,  aspens,  poplars,  and,  half  up  the  opposite 
slope,  there  are  mountain  ashes  that  in  the  late  autumn 
ever  gleam  a  ripe  crimson  blaze  on  the  hillside.)  , 

"  On  the  right,  a  skirting  oak  wood  with  jutting  points  of 
grey  rock;  on  the  left,  a  rising  copse.  Still  forward  are 
seen  the  aged  groves  of  Bolton  Park,  the  growth  of  centuries  ; 
and  farther  yet  the  barren  and  rocky  distances  of  Simon's 
Seat  and  Barden  Fell,  contrasted  to  the  warmth,  fertility,  and 
luxuriant  foliage  of  the  valley  below." 

Pursuing  our  way  upwards,  the  woods  on  either  side  hem 
us  in;  tinkling  brooks  and  fairy-like  glens  appear;  the 
Wharfe,  having  assumed  every  shape  of  which  a  river  is 


WHARFEDALE.  1 2  5 

capable,  henceforth  consistently  retains  the  characteristics 
of  a  mountain  stream.  Immediately  above  the  priory  its 
bed  is  full  of  large  boulders ;  beyond,  it  runs  still  and  deep ; 
here  it  narrows  and  there  it  widens — everywhere  it  has  the 
bright  bubbling  charm  of  variety.  This  is  what  we  have 
for  two  miles,  and  then  we  reach  the  Strid.  At  this  spot — 
the  Mecca  of  the  Wharfedale  tourist — the  river  gallops 
through  a  deep  sluice  between  two  rocks,  so  narrow  that 
you  may  leap  across  it.  Hence  its  name.  And  here  it  is 
the  legend  must  be  told ;  after  which  let  the  grayling  look 
out. 

A  certain  fishiness  about  the  story  makes  it  quite  appro- 
priate at  this  time  and  place.  One  Lady  Alice  had  a  son 
who  came  to  an  untimely  end  in  this  madly-hurrying  current 
which,  as  we  sit  over  it,  roars  in  our  ears.  The  story  has 
been  best  told  by  Rogers,  who  shall,  with  the  reader's  per- 
mission, tell  it  again  for  our  benefit.  Wordsworth's  version, 
though  substantially  the  same,  is,  compared  with  Rogers's, 
even  "  as  water  unto  wine."  Says  Rogers  : — 

"  At  Embasy  rung  the  matin  bell, 
The  stag  was  roused  on  Barden  Fell ; 
The  mingled  sounds  were  swelling,  dying, 
And  down  the  Wharfe  a  hern  was  flying  ; 
When,  near  the  cabin  in  the  wood, 
In  tartan  clad  and  forest  green, 
With  hound  in  leash  and  hawk  in  hood, 
The  boy  of  Egremond  was  seen. 
Blithe  was  his  song — a  song  of  yore  ; 
But  where  the  rock  is  rent  in  two, 
And  the  river  rushes  through, 
His  voice  was  heard  no  more. 
'Twas  but  a  step,  the  gulf  he  passed  ; 
But  that  step — it  was  his  last ! 
As  through  the  mist  he  winged  his  way 


126  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

(A  cloud  that  hovers  night  and  day), 
The  hound  hung  back,  and  back  he  drew 
The  master  and  his  merlin  too  ! 
That  narrow  place  of  noise  and  strife 
Received  their  little  all  of  life." 

So  far  all  authorities  are  agreed,  but  an  inspection  of 
certain  musty  documents  throws  some  doubt  upon  the 
sequel.  The  Lady  Alice,  according  to  Wordsworth's  ac- 
ceptation of  the  popular  legend,  was  apprised  of  the  lad's 
late  by  a  forester,  who,  with  a  tact  and  delicacy  not  unusual, 
pray  observe,  even  in  those  rude  times,  prepared  the  poor 
lady  for  his  intelligence  by  asking — 

"  What  remains  when  prayer  is  unavailing  ?  " 
Quoth  the  bereaved  mother,  "  Endless  sorrow." 

"From  which  affliction — when  the  grace 
Of  God  had  in  her  heart  found  place — 
A  pious  structure  fair  to  see, 
Rose  up,  this  stately  priory." 

That  is  Mr.  Wordsworth ;  but  the  version  which  seems, 
not  only  from  documentary  evidence,  but  from  our  know- 
ledge of  the  parties  interested,  to  be  most  likely  is  that  the 
abbots  and  monks  of  Embasy,  up  in  the  bleak  fell  district, 
tired  of  their  lonely  situation  (and  there  being  no  fish 
handy),  took  advantage  of  the  lady's  grief  to  descend  into 
the  valley  and  remove  their  priory  nearer  the  beeves  and 
trout.  Anyhow  the  priory  was  wealthily  endowed,  and  in  a 
short  space  of  time  the  monks — self-denying  souls  ! — pos- 
sessed 2,193  sheep,  713  horned  cattle,  95  pigs,  and  91 
goats. 

The  man  sauntering  towards  us  is  the  water  keeper,  and 
he  will  recommend  us  to  retrace  our  steps.  He  tells  us  he 
has  been  trying  all  the  morning  to  catch  a  dish  of  grayling 


WHA  RFEDA  L  E.  1 2  7 

for  the  Hall,  but  without  success.  Strapped  to  his  back,  in 
lieu  of  the  orthodox  creel,  he  carries  a  wooden  box  fashioned 
as  closely  as  possible  to  imitate  a  fishing  basket.  He  made 
it  himself,  and  his  rod  and  line  were  also  the  work  of  his 
own  hands.  They  are  heavy  and  rough,  it  is  true,  but  in 
his  grasp  they  can  be  made  to  do  all  that  is  necessary.  He 
purposely  uses  a  large  heavy  line,  with  which  alone,  he  saysr 
you  can  fish  thoroughly  against  wind.  It  is  astonishing  to 
see  how  lightly,  easily,  accurately,  and  to  what  distance  he 
casts  his  flies  with  that  clumsy  sixteen  feet  rod  painted 
green,  and  that  heavy  horsehair  line. 

His  casting  lines  are  of  a  kind  peculiar  to  the  Wharfe,  I 
believe.  He  uses  nothing  but  horsehair,  beginning  with 
four  or  five  strands  and  gradually  lessening  the  bulk  until 
the  last  eighteen  inches  of  the'  four  yards  are  single  hair. 
He  never  fishes  with  less  than  five  flies,  tied  by  himself. 

"  He  shakes  the  boughs  that  on  the  margin  grow, 
Which  o'er  the  stream  a  waving  forest  throw, 
When  if  an  insect  fall  (his  certain  guide), 
He  gently  takes  him  from  the  whirling  tide, 
Examines  well  his  form  with  curious  eyes, 
His  gaudy  vest,  his  wings,  his  horns,  his  size ; 
Then  round  the  hook  the  chosen  fur  he  winds, 
And  on  the  back  a  speckled  feather  binds  ; 
So  just  the  colours  shine  through  every  part, 
That  nature  seems  to  live  again  in  art." 

There  is  a  grey  pony  in  the  neighbourhood,  I  am  toldy 
whose  long  tail  has  been  quite  a  small  fortune  to  its  owner 
during  the  last  fifteen  years,  and  a  local  wag  says  the  gray- 
ling give  over  rising  the  moment  the  animal  which  has- 
contributed  so  long  to  their  family  death-roll  comes  down 
to  the  margin  to  drink.  The  keeper  is  not  prepared  to 


123  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

sign  an  affidavit  in  verification  of  this  assertion,  but  he 
certainly  has  in  his  greasy  pocket-book  a  large  collection 
of  long  grey  horsehairs,  and  furs  and  feathers  innumerable. 

Do  not  be  too  haughty  to  believe  that  a  few  expeditions 
with  a  man  like  this  are  worth  any  quantity  of  mere  theory, 
and  that  it  is  always  best  to  follow  his  advice  when  once 
you  are  convinced  that  he  is  to  be  trusted.  That  is  a 
principle  I  have  never  found  to  fail.  You  may  be  learned 
in  piscatorial  lore,  may  be  an  old  stager  at  the  waterside, 
may  be  in  all  ways  an  adept  admitted  and  proved ;  but  a 
practised  native,  though  he  reads  not  neither  can  he  write, 
will  be  your  master  on  his  own  ground. 

Thus,  though  my  book  contained  the  most  approved 
flies  used  in  Herefordshire,  Derbyshire,  and  Hampshire  (all 
first-class  grayling  counties),  I  without  hesitation  took  the 
keeper's  tiny,  artistic  hackles,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few 
days  proved  by  practical  experience  the  infinite  superiority 
of  his  knowledge  and  wisdom.  I  fancy  the  best  Wharfe 
fly-makers  live  at  Otley.  Their  brown  owl  is  a  killing  fly ; 
so  is  the  little  hackle  termed  a  fog  black.  Partridge  and 
woodcock  hackles  and  a  black  gnat  are  favourites,  and  you 
never  see  a  native's  cast  that  does  not  possess  a  pretty 
hackle  made  of  the  under  wing  of  the  snipe  with  body  of 
straw-coloured  silk. 

"  Fish  in  the  eye  of  a  stream,  sir,"  our  keeper  advises ; 
and  he  shows  us  how  to  do  it,  by  dropping  his  flies  like 
snow  flakes  across  where  the  water  scrambles  over  the 
stones  previous  to  a  drop  and  sweep  into  deeper  volume. 

"  Grayling  are  like  women,  sir — you  never  know  what  to 
be  about  with  them,"  he  sagely  remarked.  By  this  our 
Yorkshire  guide  showed  that  he  had  studied  well  the 


WHARFEDALE.  1 2  9 

character,  not  perhaps  of  the  sex,  but  of  the  fish.  They 
are  undoubtedly  skittish  cattle  (fish,  and  once  more,  not 
women),  as  we  were  that  day  and  the  next  destined  to  find. 
One  could  almost  fancy  that  they  were  cognisant  of  their 
rarity  and  value,  and  gave  themselves  airs  in  consequence. 
Cotton,  who  ought  to  be  a  good  authority  on  the  matter, 
seeing  that  the  Derbyshire  streams  where  he  exercised  his 
skill  were,  and  in  a  minor  degree  still  are,  famous  for  their 
grayling,  has  no  high  opinion  of  the  fish.  His  pupil 
exclaims — 

"  I  have  him  now,  but  he  is  gone  down  towards  the 
bottom.  I  cannot  see  what  he  is ;  yet  he  should  be  a  good 
fish  by  his  weight ;  but  he  makes  no  stir." 

"  Why,  then/'  the  master  replies,  "  by  what  you  say,  I 
dare  venture  to  assure  you  it  is  a  grayling,  who  is  one  of 
the  deadest-hearted  fishes  in  the  world,  and  the  bigger  he  is 
the  more  easily  taken.  Look  you,  now  you  see  him  plain  ; 
I  told  you  what  he  was.  Bring  hither  that  landing-net, 
boy  !  And  now,  sir,  he  is  your  own,  and  believe  me,  a 
good  one,  sixteen  inches  long  I  warrant  him." 

If  the  grayling  thus  described  had  brought  an  action  for 
libel  against  Charles  Cotton,  of  Beresford  Hall,  in  the 
county  of  Derby,  Esquire,  a  fair-minded  jury  must  have 
found  a  verdict  with  damages.  The  grayling  is  in  every 
sense  by  which  a  fish  may  be  judged  entitled  to  respect. 
Walton,  who  was  as  innocently  credulous  as  a  child  in 
matters  with  which  he  was  not  practically  acquainted,  who 
would  believe  almost  any  story  so  long  as  it  appealed  to  his 
quaint  simple  sentiment,  and  who  probably  knew  less  about 
the  grayling  than  any  other  English  fish,  is  inclined  to  place 
him  on  a  pinnacle  of  honour.  He  reminds  us  that  Gesner 


130  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

terms  it  the  choicest  of  all  fish ;  that  the  French,  who  vilify 
the  chub,  term  the  grayling  (or  umber)  un  umble  chevalier. 
Without  exactly  endorsing  the  statement,  Walton  retails 
with  some  unction  the  Frenchman's  dictum -that  the  grayling 
feeds  on  gold,  and  informs  his  readers  that  St.  Ambrose, 
"the  glorious  Bishop  of  Milan,"  calls  him  the  flower  of 
fishes,  and  was  so  far  in  love  with  him  that  he  would  not 
let  him  pass  without  the  honour  of  a  long  discourse. 

Now  the  grayling,  though  not  gorgeously  marked,  like 
the  trout,  is,  to  my  thinking,  of  more  gracefully  propor- 
tioned shape,  and  not.  by  any  means  the  chicken-hearted 
brute  described  by  Cotton.  Like  the  trout,  the  grayling 
takes  much  of  his  character  from  the  stream  he  inhabits, 
and  we  found  the  Wharfe  grayling,  though  not  large, 
were  of  the  most  perfect  symmetry,  colour,  and  flavour. 
When  the  grayling  first  leaves  the  water,  nothing  can  be 
more  beautiful  than  the  almost  impalpable  vestment  of  royal 
purple  which  shines  over  his  silver  undermail,  and  .the  long 
distinct  thin  line  running  along  the  middle  of  his  side,  from  his 
bright  lozenge-shaped  eye  to  his  purple  tail.  His  tapered 
snout  and  round,  elegantly  proportioned  body,  his  white 
belly,  with  a  suspicion  of  gold  along  each  side,  the  small 
square  dark  spots  about  his  sides,  and  the  marking. of  his 
fins,  increase  the  beauty  of  this  high-bred  looking  fish. 

There  is  a  dispute  as  to  the  smell  of  the  grayling  in  the 
first  few  moments  of  his  capture,  some  arguing  in  favour  of 
thyme,  and  some  saying  the  perfume  is  that  of  the  cucumber. 
The  fish  has  been  designated  salmo  thymallus  in  honour  of 
the  thyme  theory.  Opinions  upon  this  knotty  point  I  think 
will  always  differ.  A  fish  taken  from  the  Teme  I  once 
thought  had  a  decided  smell  of  cucumber,  another  from  the 


WHARFEDALE.  131 

Itchen  was  redolent  of  thyme ;  the  first  which  the  Wharfe 
yielded  at  the  visit  which  is  the  subject  of  our  present  thought 
smelled  of  something  which  the  keeper  said  was  cucumber, 
while  I  equally  maintained  it  was  thyme.  Very  likely  if  we 
had  never  heard  or  read  of  the  alleged  odours  the  fanq 
would  not  have  occurred  to  us ! 

Our  Wharfedale  experiences  were  those  of  every  grayling 
fisher  who  uses  the  fly.  We  were  certain  of  nothing.  Roving 
and  sinking  as  the  anglers  practise  it  in  Herefordshire  with 
grasshopper  or  gentle  is  probably  the  most  certain  way  of 
catching  the  grayling,  who  loves  to  lie  close  to  the  ground, 
grubbing  upon  the  sand  or  gravel,  which  he  prefers  to  any 
other  bed.  Even  when  he  takes  the  fly,  which  he  will  do 
at  all  times,  not  excepting  the  winter  frosts,  if  the  sun  should 
peep  out  for  an  hour  or  two  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  he 
rises  swift  and  straight  from  the  deepest  parts  of  the  river, 
and  descends  again  with  equal  speed.  His  movements  are 
indeed  so  rapid  that  the  hesitation  of  an  instant  on  your 
part  will  be  fatal.  The  fish  loves  either  the  eye  or  tail  of  a 
current ;  upon  being  hooked  he  rushes  for  the  stream,  and 
as  in  most  cases  your  hook  must  be  of  the  smallest,  and  the 
grayling's  mouth  is  remarkably  tender,  your  proportion  of 
lost  fish  will  be  greater  with  grayling  than  with  trout. 

"  It  is  no  good,  sir,"  the  keeper  said,  after  we  had  both 
carefully  fished  a  mile  of  the  Wharfe  and  missed  every  fish 
that  rose,  each  of  which  had  been  faintly  pricked ;  "they 
are  at  their  old  tricks.  Fve  touched  a  dozen  fish  to-day 
and  caught  none,  and  sometimes  they  go  on  like  this  all 
day  long.  We  shall  get  them  between  three  and  five  this 
afternoon,  but  not  before." 

He   acted  upon  his   own   opinion   and   ceased  angling, 

K  2 


1 3  2  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

preferring  to  husband  his  strength  for  subsequent  efforts, 
and  watch  me  fish  the  rapids  for  trout.  It  turned  out  in  the 
afternoon  as  it  had  been  predicted.  The  grayling  rose 
moderately,  but  whereas  in  the  morning  we  both  missed 
everything,  we  now  landed  all  that  we  touched — eight 
beautiful  fish  of  about  three-quarters  of  a  pound  each. 
When  the  sun  began  to  touch  shadow-land,  and  the 
autumnal  coolness  of  evening  to  succeed,  the  grayling  rose 
no  more.  This  is  their  habit,  and  their  habit  requires  most 
careful  study  both  as  regards  general  characteristics  and  the 
peculiarities  of  locality.  No  fish  requires  such  careful 
watching  as  the  grayling,  and  when  I  hear  him  condemned 
or  spoken  lightly  of  I  suspect  that  the  fault  lies  with 
the  blamer  rather  than  the  blamed.  So  long  as  I  remained 
in  Wharfedale  and  in  the  keeper's  neighbourhood,  he  would 
in  the  morning,  as  a  first  and  prime  duty,  look  round  at  the 
sky,  and  then  at  the  water,  and  at  the  insects  moving  about, 
and  pronounce  an  opinion  as  to  the  probabilities  of  sport ; 
and  his  general  accuracy  was  surprising. 

At  Bolton  the  fish  are  not  numerous  :  two  or  three  brace 
constituted  a  day's  average  sport ;  \but  I  met  some  fishermen 
who  had  for  a  fortnight  been  unable  to  take  a  single 
grayling,  although  they  had  caught  a  few  small  trout.  Anglers 
differ  greatly  in  their  estimate  of  a  grayling's  weight.  One 
Wharfedale  fisher,  when  I  told  him  I  had  seen  a  Hampshire 
fish  that  scaled  over  three  pounds  and  a  half,  coughed 
incredulously,  and  said — 

"  Ah,  that  was  a  big  one  indeed." 

Plainly  he  did  not  believe  me.  It  is  rarely  grayling  so 
large  as  this  are  seen,  and  the  monster  I  quote  was  a 
supremely  ugly  fellow.  A  pound  fish  is  a  good  one,  and 


GRAYLING  RIVERS.  133 

though  he  will  not  fight  so  desperately  as  a  trout,  he  does 
not  die  without  a  plucky  struggle.  Prop  erly  hooked,  how- 
ever, a  grayling  ought  never  to  be  lost ;  but  let  the  unsuc- 
cessful grayling  angler  be  consoled  with  the  reflection  that 
many  otherwise  excellent  fly-fishers  have  never  mastered  the 
art  of  thoroughly  hooking  this  fish.  The  sun,  except  on 
frosty  mornings,  is  bad  for  grayling^fishing — fog,  frost,  wind, 
rain,  anything  but  sun  may  be  tolerated,  and  unlike  most 
descriptions  of  fish  the  grayling  is  not  to  be  met  with  early 
in  the  morning  or  late  in  the  evening. 

My  Wharfedale  expedition,  though  not,  I  confess,  produc- 
tive of  much  in  the  way  of  pisci-slaughter,  was  never  re- 
gretted; there  was  too  much  to  admire,  too  much  to  be 
interested  about,  and  then  as  to  fish,  one  can  always  console 
one's  self  with  the  anciently  expressed  comfort — 

"  If  the  all-ruling  Power  please 

We  live  to  see  another  May, 
We'll  recompense  an  age  of  these 
Foul  days  in  one  fine  fishing  day." 


PRACTICAL  NOTES  ON  GRAYLING  RIVERS. 
It  is  possible  the  recent  attempt  to  introduce  grayling  into 
the  Thames  may  be  more  successful  than  the  efforts  with 
salmon  and  trout,  and  the  gentlemen  who  are  deserving  the 
thanks  of  all  anglers  for  their  perseverance  may  find  some 
encouragement  in  what  Sir  Humphrey  Davy,  who  studied 
the  grayling  with  intelligence  if  not  indisputable  science,  lays 
down  as  to  the  habits  and  nature  of  the  fish.  His  leading 
conditions  are  certainly  fulfilled  in  the  Thames.  Summar- 
ised, the  conditions  under  which  he  says  the  grayling  will 
breed  and  thrive  are — a  moderate  temperature  of  water,  a 


134  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

combination  of  stream  and  pool,  shallows  of  marl,  loam,  and 
gravel,  and  an  abundance  of  flies  and  larvae.  The  grayling 
grows  with  marvellous  rapidity,  moves  from  one  part  of  the 
river  to  another  in  a  migratory  mood,  and  can  exist — as  it 
does  in  the  Tyrol — in  a  turbid  stream.  The  fish  has  been  in- 
troduced with  success  into  the  upper  portions  of  the  Clyde 
watershed,  and  in  other  Scotch  rivers  to  which  they  were 
altogether  foreign.  At  the  same  time  it  must  not  be  for- 
gotten that  a  former  attempt  to  introduce  the  grayling  into 
the  Thames  failed.  The  Lug  seems  by  general  consent  to 
be  considered  the  best  of  modern  grayling  rivers.  Rising  in 
Radnorshire  it  flows  for  about  thirty  miles  through  the  most 
fertile  tracts  of  fruitful  Herefordshire,  and  joins  the  Wye  at 
Mordiford.  For  several  miles  after  entering  the  English 
county  the  river  course  abounds  in  fine  valley  scenery. 
Leominster,  the  town  famous  for  its  five  W's,  "  water,  wool, 
wheat,  wood,  and  women,"  is  the  town  which  best  commands 
the  Lug — the  key  of  the  position,  so  to  speak. 

Many  grayling-masters  give  the  preference,  nevertheless, 
to  the  Teme,  and  no  doubt  in  Sir  Humphrey  Davy's  time  it 
was  far  superior  to  any  other  river.  It  is  swift  running,  and 
along  its  downward  course  of  sixty  miles — it  falls  367  feet 
from  its  junction  with  the  Onny,  near  Ludlow — it  presents 
an  unusual  number  of  rapids,  rocky  ledges,  and  deep  pools. 
It  first  waters  a  bit  of  Wales,  and  then  fertilises  the  counties- 
of  Shropshire,  Hereford,  and  Worcester,  where  the  capacious 
Severn  receives  it.  Ludlow  is  to  the  Teme  what  Leominster 
is  to  the  Lug,  and  they  both  enjoy  the  rarest  advantages 
of  situation,  the  one  in  a  luxuriant  vale,  the  other  on  an 
eminence  crowned  with  the  grey  ruins  of  a  picturesque  castle. 

The  Derbyshire  streams   have   been   referred  to  in  the 


GRAYLING  RIVERS.  135 

previous  chapter ;  they  are  most  probably  our  very  earliest 
grayling  waters. 

Hampshire  possesses  good  grayling  streams,  and  Hamp- 
shire men,  if  they  acknowledge  that  the  Hereford  rivers 
are  superior  as  to  quantity,  nevertheless  stoutly  insist  that 
their  Test  can  show  the  biggest  fish.  Occasional  fish  are  to 
be  found  in  the  Avon  and  Itchen.  The  Test  is  a  famous  trout 
river,  and  has  been  so  from  time  immemorial,  but  grayling 
were  brought  to  it  only  within  the  last  century.  It  is  a  noted 
angling  river  at  Whitchurch,  Stockbridge,  and  Romsey,  and 
carefully  preserved  by  landowners  or  local  associations.  It  is 
a  remarkably  placid-flowing  stream,  and  on  this  account,  and 
because  of  its  clearness,  there  is  demanded  the  highest  exercise 
of  skill  on  the  part  of  the  angler.  It  is  turned  to  excellent 
account  by  the  millers  and  farmers  along  its  level  and  pastoral 
course,  and  receives  many  small  tributaries  before,  at  Red- 
bridge,  it  forms  the  higher  branch  of  Southampton  water. 
The  Houghton  and  Leckford  fishing  clubs  on  the  Test  are 
historical  to  anglers.  Dr.  Wollaston,  Sir  Francis  Chan  trey, 
and  R.  Brinsley  Sheridan  were  members,  and  Sheridan  drew 
up  a  set  of  very  funny  rules  and  regulations  for  the  guidance 
of  the  angling  party  of  which  he  was  a  member.  These  laws 
in  Sheridan's  own  handwriting  were  years  gone  by  presented 
to  the  old  Walton  and  Cotton  Club,  and  I  hope  the  reader 
will  grant  me  pardon  if  I  transcribe  a  few  of  the  most  humo- 
rous sentences : — 

"That  each  male  member  of  the  party  shall  forthwith 
subscribe  the  sum  of  five  pounds  five  shillings  towards  the 
general  expenses,  and  that  such  subscriber  do  really  pay 
the  same  into  the  hands  of  the  treasurer. 

"  Henry  Scott,  Esq.,   Captain   of  the  Light  Infantry   of 


1 36  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

South  Hants,  to  be  collector  of  the  said  subscriptions  in  the 
town  department.  The  said  captain  having  given  a  great 
proof  of  ability  for  that  office,  inasmuch  as  he  has  already 
collected  five  guineas  from  Gigar,  alias  Mathew  Lee,  Esq., 
and  the  society  have  the  strongest  hopes  that  he  will  give 
an  equally  unexpected  proof  of  his  integrity  by  paying  over 
the  said  sum  into  the  hands  of  the  treasurer. 

"  A  journal  is  to  be  kept  of  the  occurrences  of  each  day, 
which,  among  other  interesting  matters,  is  to  contain  an 
account  of  the  number  of  fish  caught,  their  respective 
weights,  by  whom  caught,  &c.,  &c. 

"  The  said  journal  is  at  a  proper  time  to  be  printed  and 
published,  and  although  the  party  are  confident  that  the  said 
journal  will  also  be  a  record  of  wit,  humour,  pleasantry,  and 
possibly  even  of  deep  observation,  from  the  acknowledged 
and  various  talents  of  the  said  party,  yet,  disdaining  all 
personal  advantage,  it  is  resolved,  in  humble  imitation 
of  the  example  set  by  the  Rev.  J.  W.  L.  Bowles,  that  in 
case  any  copies  of  the  said  fresh-water  log-book  should  be 
sold  the  profits  shall  be  solely  applied  to  the  benefit  of  the 
widows  and  orphans  of  deceased  fishermen. 

"No  drawing,  painting,  sketch,  or  model  of  any  trout 
shall  be  taken  at  the  general  expense,  unless  such  fish  shall 
have  exceeded  the  weight  of  five  pounds,  and  shall  have 
been  bonafide  caught  by  one  of  the  party,  and  not  privately 
bought  at  Stockbridge. 

"Any  member  describing  the  strength,  size,  weight  of 
any  immense  fish  which  he  had  skilfully  hooked,  dexter- 
ously played  with,  and  successfully  brought  to  the  bank, 
\vhen  by  the  clumsiness  of  the  man  with  the  landing  net — 
only  conceive  how  provoking — the  said  fish  got  off,  shall 


GRAYLING  RIVERS.  137 

forfeit  half-a-guinea  and,  so  toties  quottes  for  every  such 
narrative.  To  prevent  unnecessary  trouble,  the  said  forfeits 
are  to  be  collected  by  the  Rev.  J.  O. 

"  There  shall  be  but  one  hot  meal  in  the  course  of  the 
day,  and  that  shall  be  a  supper  at  nine  o'clock  ;  cold  meat 
and  other  refreshments  in  the  tents  or  at  the  waterside  at 
two  o'clock. 

"  A  committee  is  to  be  appointed  Jx>  provide  these  repasts, 
and  shall  be  called  and  entitled  the  Catering  Committee, 
and  their  decision  as  to  snack  and  supper  shall  be  final. 

"Any  member  willing  to  send  in  any  stores  for  the 
general  benefit  at  his  own  expense  shall  be  permitted  so  to 
do,  and  is  entitled  to  be  laughed  at  accordingly. 

"  All  fish  by  whomsoever  caught  are  to  be  considered  as 
general  property,  and  if  there  are  sufficient  to  send  any 
as  presents  the  choice  of  the  fish  shall  be  determined  by 
lot ;  always  excepting  such  as  shall  be  sent  to  the  drawing- 
room,  which  are  to  be  a  tribute  from  the  firms. 

"Any  gentleman  falsely,  shabbily,  and  treacherously  con- 
cealing the  number  of  fish  he  had  caught,  and  slily  sending 
off  any  of  the  same  as  a  present  to  ladies  or  others,  shall 
forfeit  on  detection  one  guinea  for  each  fish  so  purloined 
from  the  common  stock,  and  be  publicly  reprimanded  at 
supper  for  the  same.  Mrs.  Sheridan  is  not  to  draw  up  the 
form  of  reprimand. 

"  Any  person  restless  and  fidgety,  presuming  to  insinuate 
that  sea-fishing  is  preferable  to  the  tame  and  tranquil  occu- 
pation of  this  party,  and  detected  in  endeavouring  to 
inveigle  elsewhere  any  of  the  liege  and  dutiful  subjects  of 
Izaak  Walton,  shall  on  conviction  be  sentenced  to  fourteen 
minutes'  abstinence  from  ale,  beer,  porter,  wine,  brandy, 


138  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

rum,  gin,  Hollands,  grog,  shrub,  punch,  toddy,  swiperus, 
caulkers,  pipe,  segar,  quid,  shag,  pigtail,  short-cut,  varines, 
canaster,  pickater,  and  if  such  culprit  shall  appeal  against 
the  severity  of  the  above  sentence  as  a  punishment  dis- 
proportioned  to  the  utmost  excess  of  human  delinquency, 
he  shall  be  entitled  to  have  rehearing,  and  Nat  Ogle 
assigned  to  him  as  counsel. 

"  The  Rev.  -  -  is  not  to  chew  the  tobacco  called 
pigtail  after  sunset,  as  he  will  then  join  the  society  of 
ladies ;  nor  for  the  same  reason  is  Jos.  Richardson,  Esq., 
M.P.,  and  author  of  the  'Fugitives,'  to  flick  his  snuff  about 
during  supper,  even  though  he  should  have  been  competing 
with  Nat  Ogle." 

The  Itchen  is  a  carefully  preserved  trout  river,  but, 
as  before  hinted,  less  plentiful  in  grayling,  and  even 
then  chiefly  in  its  lower  parts.  There  is  good  sport  with 
the  trout  when  the  Mayfly  is  on,  and  Hammond,  of  Win- 
chester, is  the  authority  from  whom  to  seek  information. 
There  is  a  little  open  water  left,  but  I  have  seen  very  fair 
success  in  the  heart  of  Winchester  city  by  townsmen  who 
knew  where  to  find  their  fish.  Below  Winchester  good 
fishing  may  be  obtained  by  the  purchase  from  Mr.  Ham- 
mond of  day,  weekly,  or  monthly  tickets. 

About  Alresford  the  trout  are  large  and  numerous,  but 
the  infant  river  throughout  that  district  is  a  very  close 
borough.  Here,  as  in  the  Test,  the  angler  has  all  his  work 
cut  out  for  him  ;  hence,  to  those  who  knew  the  waters  it 
was  no  mystery  that  certain  Hampshire  gentlemen,  upon 
being  informed  that  the  Tichborne  Claimant  was  able  to 
kill  trout  at  Alresford,  without  more  ado  refused  to  believe 
he  could  by  any  stretch  of  possibility  be  a  Wapping  butcher. 


GRAYLING  RIVERS.  139 

Just  a  word  or  two  more — "  Is  the  grayling  an  eatable 
fish?" 

In  reply  to  that  query  I  would  express  the  personal 
opinion  that  he  is  to  be  preferred  to  most  descriptions  of 
trout.  He  is  never  guilty  of  even  a  suspicion  of  mud,  and 
he  is  in  season  when  trout  are  not.  The  treatment  given, 
to  the  trout  on  the  kitchen  table  and  fire  should  be  meted 
out  to  the  grayling  ;  therefore  no  more  need  be  said.  Save 
perhaps  this  : — are  we  not  too  much  in  the  habit  of  spoiling 
the  speckled  beauty  with  fancy  cooking,  and  unnecessary 
sauces  ?  They  held  very  sensible  notions  on  this  topic  so- 
far  back  as  1651,  when  Thomas  Barker  advised  : — 

"  For  mark  well,  good  brother,  what  now  I  do  say, 
Sauce  made  of  anchovies  is  an  excellent  way, 
With  oysters,  and  lemon,  clove,  nutmeg,  and  mace. 
When  the  brave  spotted  trout  hath  been  boyled  apace, 
With  many  sweet  herbs." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  ANGLER  IN  IRELAND. 

"  The  miles  in  this  country  much  longer  be  ; 
But  that  is  a  saving  of  time  you  see, 
For  two  of  our  miles  is  aiqual  to  three, 
Which  shortens  the  road  in  a  great  degree. " 

WHETHER  Ireland  be  a  better  salmon  country  than  Scot- 
land, or  Wales  the  best  trouting  land,  is  not  the  question ; 
without  any  injustice  to  the  bonnie  Land  o'  Cakes,  it  may, 
however,  I  think,  be  taken  for  granted  that  the  Emerald 
Isle  is,  on  the  whole,  the  Paradise  of  Anglers.  Both  Scot- 
land and  Ireland  abound  with  beautiful  streams  and  an 
abundance  of  fish,  but  in  the  latter  country  they  are  much 
more  accessible  to  the  passing  stranger  than  in  the  former. 
It  is  more  fashionable  for  the  wealthy  merchant  or  citizen 
to  own  an  estate  north  of  the  Tweed  than  to  possess  one 
across  the  Irish  Channel,  and  so  it  happens  that  rivers  which 
in  Ireland  are  absolutely  free  to  the  bond  fide  angler  would 
fetch  a  high  price  and  be  jealously  guarded  in  Scotland. 
Some  day  it  may  be  that,  in  the  revolutions  of  the  whirligig 
which  produces  manners  and  customs,  the  fashion  may  run 
the  other  way,  and  then,  while  the  bright  charms  of  Ireland 
are  rapturously  acknowledged,  the  salmon  and  trout  now 
free  to  the  rodster  may  have  as  heavy  a  price  put  upon  their 
heads  as  have  their  finny  brethren  of  North  Britain  at  the 
present  moment. 

Indeed  already  there  is  a  slow  change  in  this  direction, 


THE  ANGLER  IN  IRELAND.  141 

and  each  year,  such  is  the  increasing  love  of  angling  amongst 
Englishmen,  some  river  hitherto  open  to  all  comers  is  added 
to  the  list  of  private  profit-yielding  preserves.  The  natives, 
debarred  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  their  fathers 
from  liberty  to  angle,  naturally  for  a  while  deplore  the  loss 
of  another  of  the  few  privileges  which  the  hard  times  have 
left  them ;  but  happy,  notwithstanding,  are  the  people  who 
have  no  worse  grievance  to  groan  under. 

And  there  may,  /;/  re  the  Irish  rivers,  be  added  the  con- 
solation that  many  years  must  pass  before  any  appreciable 
diminution  can  be  suffered  in  the  freedom  which  makes 
Ireland  so  desirable  a  ground  for  the  angler  who  cannot 
pay  a  fancy  price  for  his  pleasures,  or  command  an  entire 
season  of  time  in  their  leisurely  pursuit.  When  driven  from 
the  plains  he  must  flee  to  the  mountains ;  when  forced  from 
the  rivers  he  must  retire  to  the  loughs.  This  generation,  at 
any  rate,  is  likely  to  pass  away  before  such  an  extremity  is 
reached.  And  it  should  not  be  forgotten  that  while  the 
value  of  Ireland  for  rod  and  gun  is  becoming  more  recognised 
by  what  may  be  termed  the  rank  and  file  of  sportsmen, — 
the  mighty  men  of  valour,  Nimrodical  and  piscatorial, 
having  always  been  familiar  with  its  advantages  and  accus- 
tomed to  seek  them  in  the  wildest  haunts — and  while,  as  a 
consequence,  shootings  and  fishings,  especially  the  latter, 
are  in  growing  demand,  there  are  to  be  found,  in  almost 
every  part  of  the  country,  many  proprietors  who  keep  and 
protect  their  fisheries  as  a  legitimate  attraction  for  visitors 
and  residents.  Even  in  instances  of  preservation  of  a  pretty 
strict  description,  permission  in  Ireland  is  seldom  refused,  in 
moderation,  to  a  stranger  whose  respectability  is  beyond 
question. 


«  42  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

After  fishing  in  lough  and  river  under  the  freest  of  con- 
ditions in  a  certain  district  in  Ireland,  I  once  found  myself 
whipping  a  burn  in  the  south  of  Scotland,  having  obtained 
permission  so  to  do  from  the  agent  of  the  nobleman  who 
owned  the  land.  It  was  a  nice  little  stream  for  want  of  a 
better,  and  at  times,  I  was  told,  productive  of  fair  sport. 
Guided  by  a  local  Waltonian  whom  I  had  attached  to  my 
service,  I  found  myself  in  the  course  of  my  upward  progress 
arrested  by  admiration  of  the  fern-covered  grounds  with 
woods  beyond,  a  few  Highland  cattle  cropping  the  herbage, 
a  setter  or  two  barking  in  the  distance,  birds  of  prey  hawking 
here  and  there,  and  purple  mountains  receding  to  a  very 
distant  background. 

In  the  midst  of  my  hearty  enjoyment  of  the  scene  a  youth 
appeared  on  the  opposite  bank,  eyeglassed,  knickerbockered, 
and  haw-hawing.  What  right  had  I  there?  Where  did  I 
come  from?  What  was  my  name?  These  and  other 
questions,  peremptorily  demanded,  were  straightforwardly 
answered,  and  then  sentence  was  pronounced.  We  were  at 
once  sent  about  our  business  by  this  lordly  youth,  who  had 
talked  of  "my  pwop'ty"  until  I  assumed  he  was  at  the 
lowest  a  duke.  Of  course  we  shifted  quarters  immediately, 
and  in  trudging  towards  the  boundary  of  what  the  young  gen- 
tleman had  called  "the  deer  park," — a  strong  stretch  of  the 
imagination,  by  the  way — I  discovered  that  our  outraged 
landowner  was  the  son  of  an  English  manufacturer  who 
rented  the  place.  No  doubt  he  was  a  good  son,  and  no 
doubt  he  had  a  perfect  right  to  prevent  any  strolling  vaga- 
bond from  thinning  out  his  troutlings  ;  only,  after  some 
years'  experience  of  Ireland,  I  cannot  conceive  it  possible 
that  any  angler  there,  finding  himself  in  a  similar  position 


THE  ANGLER  IN  IRELAND.  143 

{through  another's  error),  and  announcing  his  strangerhood, 
would  have  been  made  otherwise  than  courteously  welcome, 
-at  least  to  finish  the  day  he  had  begun. 

Yet  what  an  astonishing  ignorance  prevails  respecting 
Ireland !  "  Is  it  safe  ?"  asked  a  broad-shouldered  stockbroker 
of  me,  when  with  enthusiastic  eloquence  I  told  him  of  the 
rare  sport  to  be  had  in  that  tight  little  island. 

"  Is  it  safe  to  trust  yourself  into  those  savage  parts  ?  "  he 
demanded. 

The  man  of  Consols'  was  reeling  in  his  live  bait  as  he  asked 
me  the  question  by  the  side  of  a  very  private  sheet  of  water 
(not  many  miles  from  the  Royal  Exchange)  where  I  was 
lounging  over  an  evening  cigar,  watching  his  efforts  to  get  a 
"run."  He  admitted  that  he  reserved  ^"50  yearly  for  a 
month's  holiday,  not  a  farthing  more  nor  a  fraction  less,  and 
always  spent  it.  He  was  a  bachelor,  and  gloried  in  being 
unblessed  with  wife  or  child.  He  had  "  done  "  the  Rhine 
because  Tompkins  had  done  it.  He  had  accompanied 
Smith  to  Paris,  Jones  to  Germany,  Buggins  to  Florence  and 
Rome,  and  on  each  occasion,  so  he  protested,  he  had  felt 
relieved  when  at  length  the  last  of  his  ten-pound  notes  had 
been  changed.  But  Ireland  ?  No  :  he  had  never  ventured 
there.  Was  it  safe  ? 

By  an  almost  superhuman  effort  I  converted  him,  and 
saw  him  off  by  the  Wild  Irishman,  with  a  magnificent  angling 
outfit,  resolved  at  last  to  risk  his  precious  body  amongst  the 
Irish  rivers  and  lakes.  At  first  I  believe  he  never  moved 
-out  without  a  revolver.  The  weapon  now  lies  buried,  like 
his  ignorance  and  prejudice,  full  fathoms  five.  He  had  been 
an  enthusiastic  fisherman  for  twenty-two  years,  but  swears  he 
never  knew  what  real  angling  meant  till  then.  The  twenty- 


1 44  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

pound  salmon  that  arrived  while  the  last  meeting  of  his  club 
was  being  held  was  a  little  the  worse  for  the  journey  from 
County  Mayo  to  London,  but  it  had  been  slain  by  his 
valiant  self,  albeit  the  members  h^ld  their  noses  as  they 
vehemently  admired  it.  So  ong  as  our  worthy  friend  lives 
you  may  take  odds  he  will  spend  his  fifty  pounds — he  says 
it  is  difficult  to  get  through  so  much  in  those  parts — in  the 
country  of  which  he  will  never  more  ask  "  Is  it  safe?  " 

The  lakes  of  County  Clare  offer  probably  the  best  pike 
fishing  in  the  United  Kingdom,  and  trout  and  salmon  in  the 
streams  ;  Kerry,  with  the  waters  of  Killarney,  is  too  well 
known  to  be  more  than  mentioned ;  the  Blackwater,  Lee, 
and  Bandon  are  sufficient  of  themselves  to  give  [Cork,  the 
highest  reputation  ;  and  as  for  Limerick,  why  need  go  further 
than  the  Shannon  ? 

"  Oh  Limerick,  it  is  beautiful,  as  everybody  knows, 
The  River  Shannon  full  offish  beside  the  city  flows." 

The  Shannon,  speaking  roughly,  is  full  of  fish,  and  except 
the  famed  salmon  stretch  between  Killaloe  and  Limerick,  is 
free.  White  trout,  brown  trout,  and  monster  pike  and  perch 
abound  in  the  Shannon  waters.  As  long  as  I  live  I  shall 
probably  never  see  such  a  sight  as — if  I  remember  accu- 
rately— at  Athlone.  The  train  had  stopped  outside  the 
station  on  the  bridge  over  the  river  just  as  it  was  clearing, 
after  a  flood,  and  bare-legged  peasants  were  on  the  platform, 
with  trays  of  spoil,  great  trout  and  perch,  by  the  hundred- 
weight, while  below  through  the  railings  we  could  see  the 
boats  drifting  down  stream  heaped  up  with  recently  caught 
fish.  Take  it  all  in  all  I  doubt  whetherjthere  is  a  river  in  the 
world  for  "  all-round  "  angling  to  equal  this  splendid  stream,. 


THE  ANGLER  IN  IRELAND.  145 

which  sweeps  through  Leitrim  and  the  eight  counties  inter- 
vening between  its  source  and  the  Atlantic  Ocean. 

Dublin  is  singularly  unfortunate  in  its  fresh-water  fishing, 
but  it  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  angler  is  there  entirely 
at  fault.  It  is  not  so  very  far  from  Powerscourt  with  the 
romantic  Dargle  and  its  stores  of  merry  little  trout.  There 
are  pike  and  perch  in  the  LifTey  below  the  strawberry 
gardens,  and  trout  increase  with  your  distance  from  incom- 
parable Phoenix  Park.  The  best  spot  I  have  always,  how- 
ever, found  is  under  the  Wicklbw  mountains  near  the  source 
of  the  river.  Kilbride,  though  a  long  drive  from  Dublin,  is 
a  very  pleasant  trip,  and  often  have  I  compassed  it  on  a 
jaunting  car.  The  trout  are  always  small,  but  they  make 
atonement  in  their  extraordinary  quantity,  and  the  voracity 
with  which  they  take  the  somewhat  gaudy  little  flies  by  which 
they  are  tempted. 

There  are  some  events  in  life  never  to  be  forgotten.  You 
may  not  remember  your  first  drubbing  at  school,  your  first 
stand-up  collar,  your  first  shave,  your  first  kiss,  your  first 
client,  your  first  appearance  in  print,  or  the  incidents, 
weather,  and  so  on,  of  your  wedding  day ;  but  you  cannot 
forget  your  first  salmon.  What  a  delicious  remembrance  it  is ! 

There  was,  to  be  sure,  something  a  trifle  curious  about 
mine.  I  was  at  Galway,  as  interesting  a  town  as  any  in 
Ireland,  and,  as  every  one  who  has  looked  over  the  railings 
of  the  bridge  must  know,  a  regular  show-place  for  salmon. 
The  bottom  of  the  river  seems  paved  with  them,  and  you 
may  be  amused  for  hours,  when  the  humour  seizes  the  fish, 
by  watching  their  antics  as  they  shoot  and  circle  and  leap  as 
if  in  the  performance  of  a  dance  on  the  up-the-side-and- 
down-the-middle  principle.  At  the  eventful  time  to  which  I 

L 


146  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

am  referring  the  salmon  fishing  was  over,  for  the  Gal  way 
river  is  not  one  of  the  late  kind.  The  proprietor  of  the 
fishery,  however,  with  the  ready  courtesy  of  his  class,  freely 
allowed  me  to  try  my  best  for  a  brown  trout,  and  wished  me 
luck.  This  wish  was  gratified  to  my  heart's  content,  and 
the  little  lad  with  the  net  had  for  a  time  no  opportunity  of 
dropping  asleep.  In  the  middle  of  the  stream  there  was  a 
shallow  and  placid  pool,  surrounded  by  water  rippling  in  the 
usual  way  over  the  stones.  The  fish  below  had  ceased 
moving,  and  observing  in  the  middle  of  this  space  the  familial- 
expanding  rings  caused  by  a  rising  fish,  I  despatched  my 
cast  athwart. 

"  Tug,  tug "  was  instantly  telegraphed  down  the  butt  of 
the  rod :  then  there  was  a  dull  heavy  strain. 

Slowly  at  first,  then  at  gathering  speed,  the  small  ebony 
winch  made  music.  Straight  across  the  pool,  back  again, 
here,  there,  and  everywhere,  the  prey  shot,  churning  the  water 
into  foam,  and  causing  many  a^~*u  ~j  leap  into  the 

air.  Such  a  hullabaloo  there  never  was.  The  boy  shouted 
franticly.  Workmen  threw  down  their  tools  and  rushed 
down,  and  in  a  few  minutes  a  small  crowd  had  collected. 
The  fly  rod  was  the  lightest  that  could  be  made,  the  line 
finely  tapered,  the  hooks  extremely  small,  so  that  when  half 
an  hour  had  gone,  and  the  evening  had  begun  to  absorb 
the  light,  and  the  commotion  in  the  water  to  rage  as  before, 
hope  of  a  satisfactory  finale  departed.  Perseverance,  how- 
ever, gave  me  the  victory,  although  the  battle  would  probably 
have  been  on  the  other  side  had  I  not  prevailed  upon  Tim 
to  flounder  into  the  water  and  net  the  fish  as  he  ran.  The 
wonder  was  how  a  five-pound  salmon  could  have  created 
such  a  stir !  Stooping  to  claim  him,  I  found  out  the  cause  : 


THE  ANGLER  IN  IRELAND.  147 

he  had  been  hooked  in  the  back  fin  with  a  small  coachman  ! 
The  water  was  so  low  that  in  drawing  the  cast  towards  me 
I  had  fouled  him  in  that  singular  manner.  And  this  was 
how  I  caught  my  first  salmon. 

The  fishing  in  Galway  is  excellent,  but  the  best  has  to  be 
paid  for  at  high  rates,  and  the  waters  are  not  allowed  too 
much  rest.  The  great  lakes — Corrib  and  Mask — contain  all 
kinds  of  fish,  but  the  sport  is  uncertain.  The  district  is 
most  interesting  to  the  tourist,  and  the  ride  through  Joyce's 
country  one  of  the  treats  of  the  island.  The  circular  tickets 
issued  by  the  Midland  Great  Western  Company  are  a  bona 
fide  boon,  saving  you  trouble,  ensuring  you  comfort,  and  in 
every  way  reducing  the  inconveniences  of  travelling  to  a 
minimum. 

Unless  the  waters  are  known  to  be  in  good  order  I  should 
not.  starting  from  Galway,  advise  an  early  halt  for  angling. 
The  Spiddal,  a  river  about  ten  miles  from  the  town,  is  a  fair 
wet-weather  stream,  and  trolling  in  the  lakes  thereabouts  is 
not  to  be  despised ;  but  on  the  whole  you  had  better  let 
your  rod  lie  undisturbed  in  the  well  of  O'Brien's  roomy  car, 
and  enjoy  your  ride  through  Connemara  as  an  ordinary 
Christian.  Make  the  most  of  the  Twelve  Pins,  envy  Mr. 
Mitchell  Henry  his  house  arid  fishing  at  Kylemore,  and  go 
into  raptures  with  Killery  Bay,  for  of  its  degree  you  will 
meet  with  nothing  to  surpass  it.  If  you  cannot  make  your- 
self at  home  at  Westport,  in  the  hotel  with  the  river  and 
trees  before  the  door,  your  conscience  must  be  in  a  parlous 
state.  You  may  be  tempted  here  by  what  you  hear  of  the 
fishing  in  Lord  Sligo's  demesne,  and  the  chances  of  obtaining 
permission,  but  don't  unstrap  your  rods,  or  unlock  the  basket, 
until  you  find  yourself  in  due  course  at  Ballina. 


1 48  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

The  Moy,  as  an  open  salmon  river,  has  no  rival  in  Europe, 
and  the  only  fault  to  be  found  with  it  is  the  general  unhinge- 
ing  one  suffers  on  reading  every  week  in  one's  English 
home  a  record  of  the  fish  taken.  It  is  impossible  to  settle 
down  to  the  duties  of  the  day  when,  in  the  roaring  Babel  of 
London,  you  read  how  Captain  A.  killed  his  five,  the  Rev.  B. 
his  eight,  and  Sir  John  C.  his  ten  fish,  weighing  so  many 
pounds  ;  and  the  most  melancholy  part  of  the  business  is, 
that  you  know  it  is  certain  to  be  true.  After  two  visits  to 
the  Moy  I  am  in  a  humour  to  believe  almost  any  story  of 
fishermen's  luck  there.  The  proprietors  give  you  permission 
for  the  whole  season,  fettering  you  with  conditions  which 
are  not  only  reasonable  in  themselves,  but  such  as  every 
real  sportsman  will  rejoice  to  observe. 

You  are  not  required,  as  at  some  places  in  Ireland,  to 
take  out  your  licence  in  the  district — of  course  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  salmon  fishing  without  a  licence — but  you  are 
requested  carefully  to  return  the  fry  to  the  river,  and  to  give 
up  all  the  salmon  taken,  with  the  exception  of  one  fish,  as 
soon  as  possible  after  the  capture,  to  the  fishery  store. 
There  are  good  seasons  and  bad  seasons  on  the  Moy,  as  at 
the  West  End  of  London,  but  it  must  be  indeed  a  hopeless 
case  if  either  in  the  upper  or  lower  waters,  with  a  cast  of 
friend  Hearns's  flies  and  a  "  cot "  well  handled,  you  cannot 
show  trout  or  salmon  as  a  reward  for  your  labours.  You 
may  not  be  able,  as  Hearns  can,  or  rather  could  do,  to  pitch 
your  fly  forty  yards  across  the  stream,  or  kill  your  hundred 
fish  in  an  easy  month,  as  some  anglers  have  done  aforetime, 
but  something  you  can  hardly  fail  to  do. 

Lough  Gill  is  the  most  lovely  lake  in  the  north  of  Ireland, 
and  I  doubt  whether  there  is  a  lovelier  in  any  part  of  the 


THE  ANGLER  IN  IRELAND.  149 

country.  I  passed  that  way  four  years  ago,  intending 
merely  to  sleep  at  Sligo  and  move  on  to  Enniskillen  in  the 
morning,  but  three  days  had  somehow  gone  before  I  called 
for  my  tavern  bill.  Too  late  for  salmon,  or  trout  in  any 
quantity,  I  had  some  rare  fun  with  the  pike.  The  boatman 
who  took  me  in  charge  was  a  famous  fellow  for  a  companion 
and  "help,"  eager  to  please,  glad  at  your  success,  and 
sympathetic  with  your  reverses — in  short,  a  model  boatman 
for  a  long  day's  work.  I  have  no  doubt  in  the  world  there 
are  pike  of  4olb.  or  5olb.  in  Lough  Gill.  A  minute  account 
was  given  to  me  of  a  couple  of  young  men  who  had  killed 
one  of  these  giants  and  who  had  walked  through  the  main 
street  in  triumph  with  an  oar  passed  through  its  gills ;  the 
handle  and  blade  resting  upon  their  respective  shoulders, 
they  thus  unconsciously  imitated  the  spies  sent  out  by 
Joshua,  who,  according  to  the  ancient  engravings  which  dis- 
figure the  pages  of  old-fashioned  Bibles,  returned  with  a  huge 
bunch  of  grapes  suspended  in  the  same  fashion  as  the  great 
pike  of  Lough  Gill. 

They — that  is,  both  the  fishermen  and  the  fish — are  very 
fond  of  spoon  bait  on  the  lough,  and  a  careful  fishing  of  the 
river  communicating  with  the  lake  will  be  no  waste  of  time 
on  your  upward  pull.  Keep  pretty  close  to  the  left  bank 
and  look  out  for  the  holes ;  from  one  little  bend  I  took 
four  pike  in  five  casts,  and  Pat,  who,  like  all  Irish  fishermen, 
looks  upon  every  fish  but  salmon  as  mere  vermin,  knocked 
them  on  the  head  and  consigned  them  to  a  hole  in  the  fore 
part  of  the  boat  as  if  they  were  so  much  lumber.  The 
"jack  pike,"  as  he  termed  pickerel  of  a  pound  or  so,  he  was 
more  careful  with,  designing  them  for  bait  by-and-by  when 
we  reached  the  lake. 


150  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

Is  there  one  amongst  my  readers  who  can  remember  his 
state  of  mind  when  on  some  occasion  he  has  been  surrounded 
by  the  evidence  of  fish  yet  been  unable  to  obtain  one  ? 
That  was  my  hapless  condition  during  a  spell  of  midday 
sun  on  the  Garrogue  River.  It  had  stormed  right  royally 
when  just  previously  the  pike  in  mad  succession  took  the 
glittering  spoon,  and  then  large  circles  spread  upon  the 
water  showing  that  the  trout  were  on  the  move.  Even  in 
Ireland,  however,  where  brown  trout  are  not  accounted  of 
high  rank,  you  cannot  in  conscience  meddle  with  them  at 
Michaelmas,  Pat  pointed  to  me  the  direction  of  a  deep 
pool  where  in  the  spring,  he  said,  many  a  salmon  was  sur- 
prised, and  where  now  he  knew  there  was  a  shoal  of  perch 
of  the  genus  "whopper."  He  had  seen  them  the  day 
before,  "yer  honner,  shoining  loike  bars  of  govvld  tied  up 
with  black  ribbon,  upon  my  sowl,  sorr." 

A  phantom  minnow  should  be  in  every  wandering  angler's 
case,  and  I  should  as  soon  think  of  going  to  Ireland  without 
cne  as  without  my  pipe.  The  phantom,  however,  carelessly 
handled  played  me  a  trick  which  did  not  raise  me  in  the 
boatman's  estimation.  A  good  perch  was  hooked,  brought 
to  within  a  couple  of  yards  of  the  boat,  and  clumsily  lost. 
I  permitted  him  to  approach  the  top  of  the  water  before  his 
time ;  there  was  a  pull-baker,  pull-devil  sensation,  then  a 
floundering  on  the  surface,  a  broadside  flashing,  and  a 
sudden  disappearance.  Pat  had  one  or  two  provoking 
little  ways  with  him.  He  had  watched  the  whole  business 
with  positive  eagerness,  but  the  moment  the  misfortune 
happened  he  appeared  unconscious  of  it,  of  me,  nay,  of  him- 
self, as,  looking  quite  in  another  direction,  he  gazed  musingly 
at  the  sky,  softly  whistling.  • 


THE  ANGLER  IN  IRELAND.  1 5 1 

"Bad  business  that,  Patrick?"  I  suggested  shame- 
facedly. 

"  Och,  and  did  ye  miss  that  same,  yer  hornier?"  he  asked 
with  a  magnificently  assumed  expression  of  surprise. 

The  salmon  of  Loch  Gill  are  not  as  a  rule  large.  The 
lake  trout,  which  take  the  fly  well  up  to  the  end  of  June  and 
July,  are  both  large  and  numerous ;  perch  of  about  half  a 
pound  weight  the  boys  and  girls  catch  by  the  bushel,  by 
fishing  over  the  boat  with  a  simple  piece  of  string  and  hook, 
weighted  with  a  pebble  and  baited  with  worms.  The  pike 
also  are  abundant,  much  too  abundant  to  please  the  keepers, 
who  in  the  spawning  season  shoot  them  without  mercy. 
There  were  two  parties  of  pike  fishermen  out  on  the  day  of 
ray  visit.  I  would  not  care  to  commit  myself  to  details, 
but  I  should  think  each  boat  had  not  less  than  a  dozen  rods 
sticking  over  its  gunwales,  elevated  at  an  angle  of  forty 
•degrees  into  the  air  so  as  to  allow  of  all  the  lines  trailing 
without  fouling.  Every  now  and  then  we  could  hear  the 
whizz  of  the  winch,  and  would  pause  to  see  the  pike  hauled 
in  hand  over  hand.  'We  had  a  nice  heap  in  the  bottom  of 
our  own  boat  when  we  landed  at  Pat's  cabin  that  night,  but 
what  was  one  rod  amongst  so  many  ?  Pat  seemed  to  think 
I  took  too  low  a  view  of  life.  He  wished  me  to  try  for  a 
big  fish,  and  nothing  but  a  big  one.  He  persisted  in  the 
wish.  Now,  I  have  one  invariable  theory  on  this  head,  and 
I  gave  him  the  benefit  of  it. 

"  Pat,"  I  said  Johnsonianly,  "  I  fish  for  sport,  not  gross 
weight.  I  would  rather  any  day  catch  half  a  dozen 
'moderately  sized  fish  than  one  large  one." 

The  man,  it  was  plain,  considered  me  an  ass,  but  he  merely 
(looked  up  in  his  provoking  way  at  the  sky,  and  whistled 


152  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

again  softly.  At  length,  however,  he  was  propitiated,  for  I 
proposed  we  should  take  a  nip  of  "the  crathur"  for  luck, 
fill  our  pipes  for  heart,  and  go  in  for  the  biggest  fish  in  the 
lake.  Then  the  good-humoured  Patrick  overhauled  my 
spinning  nights,  selected  one  that  would  hold  a  whale,  and 
adjusted  it  through  and  round  about  a  "jack  pike"  of  quite 
a  pound  weight.  The  plan  was  to  trail  it  say  forty  yards  at 
the  stern  of  the  boat,  and  I  must  confess  that  although  it 
wobbled  a  good  deal,  and  made  a  tremendous  commotion 
in  the  water,  it  looked  a  most  attractive  mouthful  for  any 
pike-ish  ogre  that  might  be  lurking  near. 

It  so  happens  that  Lough  Gill  is  charged  with  glorious 
scenery,  and  while  the  pickerel  was  wobbling  steadily  after 
our  boat  I  forgot  the  chances  of  sport,  and  became  lost  in 
poetical  contemplation  of  one  of  the  sweet  wooded  islets 
that  bestud  the  water. 

The  moralist  tells  you  truly  indeed  that  in  beauty  there  is 
fatality.  Had  this  been  a  mere  Dagenham  pond  who  knows 
what  a  contribution  would  not  have  been  made  to  the  South 
Kensington  Museum? 

My  knowledge  on  this  point  is  vague,  but  shall  I  ever 
forget  that  savage  pull  which  bent  the  top  of  my  rod  swiftly 
into  the  water,  or  that  mighty  swirl  far  away  in  our  wake 
when  the  giant,  snapping  my  thickly  plaited  silk  as  though 
it  were  cotton,  went  off  with  hooks,  trace,  and  twenty 
yards  of  line,  leaving  me  lamenting,  and  Pat  a  third  time 
making  astronomical  investigations  and  screwing  up  his  lips  ? 
It  would  have  gratified  me  to  have  received  a  little  consola- 
tion from  my  humble  companion,  but  he  was  not  going  to 
belie  his  conscience  for  any  one  just  then.  And  that  was 
what  came  of  admiring  the  beauties  of  nature,  and  not 


THE  ANGLER  IN  IRELAND,  153 

perceiving  that  the  line  was  carelessly  entangled  in  the 
handle  of  the  winch. 

Let  us  now  change  the  scene  to  another  lough  across  the 
country,  the  largest  lake  in  the  three  kingdoms,  and  one  of 
the  first  four  largest  in  Europe.  In  considering  the  angler's 
opportunities  in  North  Ireland  it  were  almost  a  sin  to  deal 
slightingly  with  the  splendid  lakes  and  rivers  of  Donegal  and 
Londonderry,  but  there  is  such  a  thing  as  space  to  be  thought 
of  when  your  notions  are  to  be  put  in  type,  and  that  thought 
will  intrude  itself  at  this  moment. 

As  a  skeleton  guide  to  angling  in  Ireland  I  can  with  a 
very  clear  conscience  recommend  the  inquirer  to  the  chapter 
devoted  to  that  subject  in  Murray's  Guide;  and  this  is  a 
tribute  one  all  the  more  gladly  pays,  as  a  set-off  against  hard 
words  provoked  by  the  vices  of  such  literature  on  other 
occasions.  The  compiler  of  this  guide  to  the  angling  waters 
in  Ireland  had  the  good  common  sense  to  aim  at  nothing 
more  attractive  than  the  imparting  of  reliable  information, 
and  this  he  has  certainly  succeeded  in  getting  and  giving. 
Shifting  my  responsibility  to  those  unknown  shoulders,  I 
therefore  turn  to  the  waters  of  which  I  have  had  recent 
experience. 

It  has  been  the  aim  of  these  chapters,  in  a  plain  fashion, 
to  hint  to  the  angler  the  sport  most  suitable  for  each  month, 
and  that  aim  is  not  here  forgotten.  By  October,  on  almost 
all  waters,  fly-fishing  has  become  very  scarce.  There  are,  to 
be  sure,  sewin  in  Wales,  and  peel  in  Devonshire,  and  sea- 
trout  in  various  places  ;  but  the  ordinary  trout  season  is 
gone,  and  none  but  late  salmon  rivers  remain.  Pike- 
fishing  and  all  the  coarser  fish  are  now  in  their  prime ;  but 
I  shall  conclude  this  sketch  for  the  special  benefit  of  any 


154  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

reader  \vho  would  care  to  know  where  to  obtain,  without 
much  trouble  or  expense,  and  with  some  reasonable  chance 
of  success,  heavy  trout  and  salmon  fishing  in  October.  If 
asked  where  such  a  spot  is  to  be  found,  I  reply — "  Randals- 
town, near  Lough  Neagh." 

There  is  a  choice  of  routes  from  England  to  Belfast,  and 
Belfast  is  well  worth  spending  a  day  or  two  in  for  its  own 
sake.  Ulster  is  not  only  a  flourishing  province,  but  is  inter- 
esting in  its  picturesqueness,  andjich  in  historical  associa- 
tions. After  the  rapid  railway  travelling  to  which  we  have 
been  used  at  home,  the  Irish  lines  doubtless  are  apt  to  be 
tedious  ;  and  the  short  journey  from  Belfast  to  Randalstown 
is  one  of  the  most  wearisome  of  any. 

It  is  safest  to  purchase  your  flies  at  Belfast,  for  they  are 
of  a  particular  pattern,  and  the  tackle  makers  there  understand 
precisely  what  kinds  are  suitable  for  existing  circumstances, 
A  salmon  licence  may  be  obtained  either  at  Belfast  or 
Randalstown,  but  by  all  manner  of  means  do  not  forget  to 
include  the  wading  stockings  and  brogues  in  your  kit,  else 
a  beautiful  piece  of  the  river  which,  by  stopping  at  the 
O'Neill  Arms,  you  are  at  liberty  to  fish  in  the  grounds  of 
Shane's  Castle,  will  be  altogether  beyond  your  reach. 

The  O'Neills  have  been  mighty  kings  in  Ulster,  and  their 
•emblem,  the  red  hand,  will  often  meet  the  eye  in  Antrim. 
There  are  two  inns  well  known  to  anglers  visiting  this  part 
of  Ireland,  and  they  are  both  O'Neill  Arms,  the  one  being  at 
Randalstown,  and  the  other  at  Toome  Bridge;  and  the 
angler  who  cannot  make  himself  at  home  at  either  ought  to 
be  kept  on  short  commons  until  he  comes  to  his  proper 
senses.  There  is  a  delicious  sense  of  freedom  and  coming 
pleasure  on  entering  the  passage  of  an  angler's  hotel,  and 


THE  ANGLER  IN  IRELAND.  1 5 5 

being  greeted,  not  by  bagmen's  trunks  and  sample  boxes, 
but  salmon  and  trout  rods  neatly  ranged  on  the  rack,  and 
landing  nets  occupying  every  spare  corner.  What  a  thrill  of 
anticipation  passes  through  one  when  the  landing  net  is 
damp  from  recent  use,  and  bugled|with  the  silver  scales  of 
the  last  captive  !  There  is  no  inn  in  the  world  so  comfor- 
table as  an  honest  angling  house — a  statement  which  holds 
equally  good  in  the  Highlands,  by  the  waters  of  Ireland, 
among  the  mountains  of  Wales,  or  on  the  banks  of  the 
English  rivers. 

The  fishing  in  Lough  Neagh  is  mostly  a  matter  of  nets. 
I  heard  a  few  sly  whispers  of  what  was  done  sometimes  on 
windy  days  by  cross  fishing,  and  saw  evidences  (of  which  no 
more)  which  rather  set  at  nought  the  fishermen's  ruling  that 
little,  if  anything,  can  be  done  with  a  fly  on  that  one 
hundred  and  fifty-four  square  miles  of  fresh  water.  At  the 
O'Neill  Arms  at  Toome  Bridge  I  saw,  with  my  own  individual 
eyes,  a  magnificent  lake  trout  of  sixteen  pounds  taken  that 
morning  by  net  from  the  lake,  and  in  the  recess  of  one  of 
the  coffee-room  windows  there  lies  under  a  glass  case  a 
stuffed  specimen  of  the  same  family,  labelled  "  261b." 
Trolling  and  spinning  are  the  best  methods  of  angling  for 
the  Lough  Neagh  trout  and  pike. 

The  fishermen  do  a  great  deal  with  night  lines  baited 
with  scraps  of  pullan,  the  fresh-water  herring  which  abounds 
here,  and  which  one  boatman  told  me  was  often  found  on  the 
•cross  lines.  This  must  be  a  very  exceptional  circumstance, 
seeing  that  the  flies  used  in  this  poacher's  contrivance  are 
almost  as  large  as  salmon  flies.  The  lake  is  famous  for 
delicious  eels,  and  hundredweights  of  them  are  despatched  to 
England  by  an  English  lessee  who  has  purchased  the  fishery. 


1 5  6  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

At  Antrim  a  river  known  as  the  Six  Mile  Water  runs  into 
the  lough.  Other  streams  feed  the  lake,  but  only  the  River 
Bann,  a  capital  salmon  river,  carries  its  waters  to  the  sea. 
I  made  my  first  bow  to  Lough  Neagh  from  the  Antrim  end, 
and  in  that  same  Six  Mile  Water  there  should  be,  unless  the 
shrewd  lad  who  witnessed  my  loss  has  since  recovered  it,  a 
derelict  Canadian  spoon-bait  which  caught  a  snag  instead  of 
a  fish.  The  fishermen  use  a  stiff  open  boat  that  carries  a 
good  press  of  sail,  and  if  you  can  catch  a  mild  breeze  a  trip 
across  to  the  opposite  shore  should  be  unfortunate  for  the 
pike  and  an  occasional  trout.  The  Six  Mile  Water  used  to 
be  an  excellent  salmon  and  trout  stream,  but  it  has  been 
poisoned  time  after  time  by  mills  and  factories,  and  is  now 
in  its  lower  portion  scarcely  worth  the  trouble  of  fishing. 

An  idle  day — that  is  to  say,  a  day  on  a  boat  on  Lougli 
Neagh,  with  a  couple  of  spinning  baits  to  take  care  of  them- 
selves, the  glamour  of  sunshine  over  the  woods  and  shores, 
and  a  sweet  bell-like  voice  reading  softly  to  you  (as  the 
incense  of  the  meerschaum  slowly  ascends  into  the  clear 
atmosphere)  about  the  legend  of  Shane's  Castle,  and  the 
traditions  of  the  lake  and  land — is  a  penance  one  would  risk 
not  a  little  to  suffer.  After  three  days'  conscientious  whip- 
ping and  wading  at  Randalstown  or  Toome  Bridge  a  right- 
minded  man  should  find  it  quite  bearable  to  be  petted  and 
read  to  for  a  few  hours  while  reclining  lazily  in  the  roomy 
stern-sheets  of  a  Lough  Neagh  fishing  boat. 

The  Main  is  a  river  after  the  angler's  own  heart,  especially 
in  September  and  October.  Visit  it  in  August,  and  your 
execrations  are  likely  to  be  as  deep  as  the  rolling  Zuyder  Zee. 
The  flax  plant  is  an  interesting  object  no  doubt,  and  useful 
withal.  In  June  when  the  pretty  blue  flowers  are  in 


THE  ANGLER  IN  IRELAND.  157 

blossom  you  may  become  even  sentimental  over  it ;  in  July 
the  ripe  crop  may  give  joy  to  the  farmer,  and  satisfaction  to 
Dorothy  his  wife.  But  the  angler  has  another  tale  to 
tell.  It  will  be  years  before  I  shall  reconcile  myself 
to  Irish  linen,  so  deadly  is  my  hatred  of  the  flax  water 
of  which  I  had  painful  experience.  All  Ulster  anglers 
curse  the  flax  water  if  they  curse  nothing  else,  and  if 
they  do  not  speak  their  condemnation  they  think  it.  The 
cut  flax  is  placed  in  water  pits  to  soak,  and  the  filthy 
trenches  being  drained  off  when  the  soaking  is  complete, 
the  rivers  become  discoloured,  the  air  is  polluted  with  a 
stench  to  which  that  of  a  tanyard  is  otto  of  roses  ;  the  fish  are 
sickened  to  death's  door.  Luckily  they  do  not  die  under 
the  infliction,  but  they  never  move  or  feed,  and  the 
experienced  angler  at  once  puts  his  rod  on  the  rack.  The 
only  fish  that  affects  unconcern  at  the  appearance  of  flax 
water  is  the  impudent  little  samlet,  which  bolts  a  fly  as  big 
as  its  own  head,  and  worries  you  incessantly  at  all  times. 

The  Main  river  is  noted  for  heavy  trout.  When  I  crossed 
the  bridge  on  my  way  from  the  railway  station  my  heart 
gave  a  bound  at  what  I  saw.  A  lad  was  sauntering  home- 
wards dangling,  with  his  fingers  thrust  into  the  gills,  a  trout 
of  some  four  or  five  pounds ;  a  young  working  man  drifting 
with  the  stream  in  a  boat  checked  by  a  pickaxe  slung  over 
the  bow  was  taking  trout  on  an  average  at  every  third  cast ; 
further  up  on  the  meadow  banks  I  saw  the  well  balanced 
figure  of  the  trout  fisher.  Eager  as  the  traditional  war 
horse  is  said  to  be  for  the  battle,  I  hastened  to  the  river  side, 
sniffing  carnage  as  I  ran.  It  was  at  the  close  of  a  day's 
rain,  the  first  that  had  fallen  for  a  month,  and  the  river, 
though  slightly  coloured,  was  in  superb  order.  It  ran  by  in 


T  5 3  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

stately  measure,  broke  out  like  a  Christmas  carol  upon 
the  scours,  tussled  and  fought  round  the  big  boulders,  and 
postured  like  a  dancing  master  round  the  curve  of  the  pools. 

And  how  the  fish  rose  for  one  little  hour  !  Old  Tim  in 
the  potato  garden  over  the  way,  young  Mick  knee  deep  in 
water,  Squire  Brown  in  the  rushes,  the  doctor  under  the 
weir,  the  captain  in  the  quiet  part  of  the  stream — one  and 
all  kept  up  a  pretty  hoorooing  while  the  game  lasted.  The 
stranger,  latest  arrived,  although  his  flies  were  all  wrong, 
and  he  had  in  his  blind  haste  got  in  the  teeth  of  the  wind, 
shared  in  the  general  good  fortune,  and  wet,  muddy,  and 
tired  returned  to  the  inn  at  dark  with  the  strap  of  his  creel 
cutting  into  his  shoulder.  It  was  a  carnival  of  trout,  large 
and  small,  brown  and  yellow. 

On  the  following  morning  it  must  have  been  highly 
amusing  to  the  non-angling  spectator  to  see  the  blank  coun- 
tenances of  the  expectant  sportsmen  who  at  daybreak  went 
clown  to  the  waterside.  A  turbid,  ochre-tainted  flood  had 
arisen  during  the  night,  and,  too  vexed  to  speak,  they 
returned  without  taking  the  rods  out  of  their  cases.  Allowing 
a  week  of  fine  weather  to  interpose,  I  again  went  to  Randals- 
town,  expecting  naturally  to  find  the  flood  abated.  So  it 
was,  but  there  was  a  dark  umber  stain  in  the  water  which  I 
could  not  understand  until  I  was  informed  that  this  was  the 
flax  pollution,  and  that  I  might  as  well  attempt  to  fish  in  a 
water  butt.  The  warning  was  amply  justified,  for  after  nine 
hours*  severe  labour  I  was  the  richer  by  about  three  ounces 
of  trout. 

On  my  next  visit  I  was  more  fortunate.  Rumours  of  half 
a  hundredweight  of  salmon  in  one  day  caught  by  one  rod, 
exaggerated  though  no  doubt  they  were,  might  still  be  true, 


THE  ANGLER  IN  IRELAND.  159 

and  for  salmon  I  tried  heart  and  hand.  About  two  miles 
up  the  river  the  Fates  whispered  me  good  omens.  The 
stream,  running  sharply  across  from  a  pretty  coppice,  swept 
in  a  long,  deep,  semi-circular  pool  under  a  steep  rock-shelved 
bank,  and  feathered  away  in  a  foamy  tail.  A  cloud  went 
across  the  sun,  the  wind  ruffled  the  dark  water,  and  the 
favourite  claret  fly  dropped  down  upon  the  precise  square 
inch  that  would  bear  it  in  natural  motion  into  the  current. 

"  Let  the  proud  salmon  gorge  the  feather'd  hook, 
Then  strike,  and  then  you  have  him — He  will  wince  : 
Spin  out  your  line  that  it  will  whistle  from  you 
Some  twenty  yards  or  so,  yet  you  shall  have  him. 
Marry !  you  must  have  patience — the  stout  rock 
Which  is  his  trust  hath  edges  something  sharp  ; 
And  the  deep  pool  hath  ooze  and  sludge  enough 
To  mar  your  fishing — 'less  you  are  more  careful." 

Doubtless  !  but  we  are  careful,  though  twice  twenty  yards 
are  run  out  in  one  jubilant  fanfare  from  the  click  reel  before 
there  is  time  to  think  of  patience,  or  sharp  edges,  or  any- 
thing else  but  the  pleasant  tingling  which  the  taut  line  has 
communicated  to  every  nerve.  The  gallant  fish  evidently 
loves  the  shade,  for  he  has  shot  up  to  the  plantation's  edge, 
cleaving  the  water  as  he  took  the  narrowest  part  of  the 
channel.  He  is  partial  to  gymnastic  exercises  too,  for  into 
the  air  he  purls,  sending  one's  heart  into  one's  mouth  for 
fear.  But  he  is  too  well  hooked,  and  being  closely  followed 
he  returns  back  again  to  the  pool,  to  yield  up  the  ghost 
perhaps  in  sight  of  a  comrade  who  may  by  his  fate  take  a 
salutary  warning.  I  don't  say  an  eight-pound  fish  was  much 
to  brag  about,  but  with  only  an  ordinary  trout  rod  and  a 
landing  net,  which  you  must  perforce  use  yourself,  it  did 
not  come  amiss  to  the  captor. 


160  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

It  is,  however,  as  I  have  before  said,  in  September  and 
October  that  the  best  sport  is  obtained  in  the  Main  river. 
Great  trout  up  to  twelve  and  fifteen  pounds  then  run  out  of 
Lough  Neagh,  and  salmon  also ;  and  there  is  a  numerous 
congregation  of  anglers  from  all  parts  of  the  country  so  long 
as  the  sport  lasts.  But  the  Main  is  not  what  it  was,  and  a 
bare-legged  peasant  woman  confidentially  told  me  why :  a 
few  years  since  a  gentleman  from  London  came  and  took 
out  certain  fish,  from  which  he  extracted  the  spawn,  and 
returned  them  again  to  the  stream.  For  a  couple  of  days, 
she  said,  there  were  strange  disturbances  in  the  pools,  as  if 
the  fish  were  sitting  in  conference  on  the  business.  The 
end  of  it  was  that  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day,  as  she 
was  leading  her  goat  to  new  pasture,  she  observed  a  move- 
ment on  the  surface  as  if  an  orderly  procession  were  passing 
down  the  middle  of  the  river.  It  was  not  for  her  to  judge, 
she  concluded,  but  her  private  belief  was  that  the  fish  so 
summarily  deprived  of  their  spawn  had,  in  dignified  resent- 
ment, retreated  into  the  lake,  never  more  to  return. 

At  Toome  Bridge  there  is  a  beautiful  stretch  of  trouting 
water.  The  waters  of  the  lough,  broad  and  clear  here, 
tumble  over  a  weir  forming  the  vigorously  rocked  cradle  of 
the  River  Bann.  Not  only  can  you  take  fish  close  under 
the  fall,  but  by  bringing  your  boat  to  within  a  foot  of  the 
uproar  you  may  cast  your  flies  into  the  lake  itself,  and  fre- 
quently hook  a  blithe  two-pounder  within  a  yard  of  the 
edge.  Whether  you  land  him  or  not  is  another  business, 
for  as  he  has  a  habit  of  projecting  himself  over  the  weir, 
the  chances  are  more  in  his  favour  than  yours. 

This  river  must  be  fished  from  a  boat,  and  it  literally 
swarms  with  trout.  Usinsr  fine  tackle  and  small  flies  in 


THE  ANGLER  IN  IRELAND.  161 

favourable  weather  you  may  easily  take  three  or  four  dozen 
fellows  ranging  between  half  a  pound  and  a  pound,  witu 
once  now  and  then  larger  fish.  It  is  a  distinct  specimen 
from  the  lake  trout,  which  cuts  as  red  as  a  salmon  and  has  a 
salmon  flavour ;  these  yellow  river  fish  are  neither  so  well 
coloured  nor  flavoured. 

On  my  last  evening  at  Toome  I  saw  a  most  wonderful 
sight.  In  the  west,  over  the  mountains,  looking  almost 
ethereal  in  the  fading  light,  the  sun  was  sinking  into  a  world 
of  golden  cloud-architecture,  at  which  one  looked  with  a 
feeling  akin  to  awe.  Turrets  were  piled  upon  turrets,  their 
tops  gilded  with  a  reddish  hue ;  there  were  seas  and  moun- 
tains and  forests  in  that  mystic  land  of  shadows,  and  they 
all  melted  into  thin  air  like  a  dream.  Directly  eastward,  on 
turning  from  this  glorious  pageantry,  I  found  the  moon 
rising  full  and  weird  out  of  a  bank  of  dark  purple  clouds 
which  brooded  over  that  portion  of  the  lake.  The  moon- 
rising  was  as  wonderful  in  its  way  as  the  sunset,  and  ap- 
peared, indeed,  to  be  in  sympathy  with  it.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  Queen  of  Night  had  resolved  to  emulate  the  God  of 
Day,  and,  from  the  dusk,  carve  out  another  such  city  as  that 
which  had  faded  in  the  western  sky ;  but  the  attempt  was 
not  successful,  and  the  moon,  as  if  observing  it,  gave 
up  the  contest,  and  broke  into  a  genial  smile,  which  was- 
reflected  in  ripples  of  silver  all  over  the  lough. 


PRACTICAL  NOTES. 

Murray's  Handbook  has  been  mentioned  in  the  preceding; 
chapter  as  a  sensible  guide  to  the  angler  in  Ireland.  The 
best  angling  work  respecting  the  sister  isle,  to  my  know- 

M 


1 62  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

ledge,  is  a  volume  entitled  "  A  Year  of  Liberty,"  by  W. 
Peard,  M.D.,  LL.B.  The  doctor  in  the  most  spirited  style 
records  his  experiences  with  the  rod  in  Ireland  from  the 
ist  of  February  to  the  ist  of  November.  The  book,  it  is 
trae,  refers  to  the  Irish  waters  of  ten  years  ago,  but  having 
been  within  a  couple  of  years  on  the  author's  track  in  many 
places,  I  can  recommend  the  work  as  reliably  applicable  in 
its  main  features  to  the  present  time.  Some  years  since  I 
read,  re-read,  and  then  read  again  an  old  work  entitled, 
if  my  memory  faithfully  serves  me,  "The  Book  of  the 
Erne."  It  is  an  enchanting  angling  book,  but  scarce. 
For  the  tour  through  Connemara,  from  Sligo  to  Gal  way 
(angling  may  be  picked  up  along  the  whole  way),  there  is 
a  very  useful  little  skeleton-guide  pamphlet — "  Western 
Highlands  (Connemara),"  by  Mr.  E.  B.  Ivatts. 

If  the  visitor  to  Ireland  should  return  from  the  north- 
eastern port  of  Belfast,  and  has  a  day  or  two  to  spend,  and 
any  capacity  left  for  admiring  fine  scenery,  I  would  advise 
him  to  select  the  route  by  Stranraer.  He  will  then  obtain 
a  capital  view  of  the  Irish  coast,  of  the  rocky  islands  and 
headlands  of  Western  Scotland,  and  he  will  also  have  the 
shortest  possible  voyage  between  the  two  countries.  At 
Newton-Stewart,  in  the  pleasant  stewartry  of  Kirkcudbright, 
he  will  have  the  River  Cree,  and  several  tributary  burns, 
some  of  which  may  be  fished  without  much  trouble. 
There  are  brook  trout,  and  in  the  autumn  white  trout. 
Exquisite  glens,  mountains,  and  moorlands  are  near,  and 
plenty  of  legends  for  the  antiquarian  and  romancist;  for 
the  angler,  who  is  prepared  to  wander  onwards  and  up- 
wards, there  are  lochs  with  an  abundance  of  finny  in- 
habitants. The  country  between  the  Cree  and  Nith  is 


THE  ANGLER  IN  IRELAND.  163 

of  an  imposing  Dartmoor  type,  veined  from  summit  to 
valley  by  many  a  tumbling  brook,  and  peopled  with 
famous  Galloway  cattle,  and  black-faced  mountain  sheep, 
nimble  as  goats.  Castle  Douglas  is  another  convenient 
halting-place,  and  Dumfries,  the  interesting  town  on  the 
Nith,  where  Burns  wandered,  worked,  and  died,  should 
arrest  the  progress  of  one  who  has  not  previously  made 
acquaintance  with  it. 


M  2 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PIKE-FISHING. 

"He  headlong  shoots  beneath  the  dashing  tide, 
The  trembling  fins  the  boiling  wave  divide  : 
Now  hope  exalts  the  fisher's  beating  heart  ; 
Now,  he  turns  pale,  and  fears  his  dubious  art  ; 
He  views  the  trembling  fish  with  longing  eyes, 
While  the  line  stretches  with  th'  unwieldy  prize." 

THE  bond  fide  angler  knows  no  season  but  that  prescribed 
by  the  laws  of  fence,  and  the  pike-fisher  is  the  hardy  annual 
of  sportsmen.  When  others  lay  themselves,  like  ships  out 
of  commission,  high  and  dry  in  dock,  he  is  on  the  alert. 
There  is  this  to  be  said  in  his  favour : — When  on  a  dark 
gloomy  November  day  he  sallies  forth  to  the  slushy  water 
meads  he  has  nothing  but  his  love  of  sport  to  sustain  him. 
Enthusiastic  adorers  of  the  beauties  of  nature  may  venture 
upon  stretching  a  point  to  unusual  limits,  but  they  would 
overstep  the  mark  sadly  if  they  sought  to  glorify  or  find 
anything  to  laud  in  the  month  of  short  days  and  foggy 
nights. 

"  Who  loves  not  Autumn's  joyous  round, 

When  com  and  wine  and  oil  abound  ? 

Yet  who  would  choose,  however  gay, 

A  year  of  unrenewed  decay  ?  " 

Who,  indeed  ?  Not  the  pike-fisher.  Tourists  have  come 
home  like  birds  to  their  roosts;  the  Michaelmas  daisies,, 
in  their  pale  funereal  lavender,  have  had  their  day;  the 


PIKE-FISHING.  165 

chrysanthemums  have  brilliantly  brought  up  the  rear  of  the 
year's  floral  march,  the  first  fire  has  been  kindled  at  home, 
and  our  lamps  are  trimmed  for  the  winter  campaign.  Most 
people  have  cast  aside  thoughts  of  out-of-door  delight,  and 
settled  down  to  ordinary  pursuits  till  spring.  But  the  pike- 
fisher  suffers  no  interruption  in  his  favourite  pastime ; 
rather,  after  Michaelmas  he  looks  forward  to  four  months  of 
prime  sport. 

He  has,  supposing  he  began  in  August,  seen  the  corn 
embrowned  by  the  sun ;  has,  standing  by  the  river-side 
while  the  pike  is  taking  its  time  in  gorging  the  live  bait, 
observed  the  reapers  thrust  in  their  sickles,  and  the  women 
and  children  gather  up  the  sheaves;  has,  while  trudging 
through  the  lane  that  offers  the  shortest  cut  to  the  station, 
been  compelled  to  turn  into  a  gateway  to  give  room  for  the 
passage  of  the  harvest-home  wain,  from  which  he  has 
plucked  half  a  dozen  ears  of  golden  grain  to  bear  away  as 
a  trophy ;  has  seen  the  walnut-tree  thrashed,  and  the  apple 
orchard  glowing  with  pyramids  of  mellow  fruit ;  has  noticed 
the  bright  patches  of  pale  yellow  in  the  branches  of  the 
elm-tree,  and  the  rapidly  changing  hues  of  the  chestnut — 
first  signs  of  the  coming  leaf-fall ;  has  on  the  thatched  roofs 
in  the  villages  marked  the  assemblage  of  the  swallow  tribe, 
marshalling  day  by  day  until  the  final  flight  darkens  the 
air ;  has,  in  the  fields  and  hedgerows,  observed  the  wild 
flowers  reduced  to  a  few  stragglers  fretting  mournfully  in 
the  wind  to  follow  the  gaily-uniformed  main  army ;  has 
looked  upon  the  quaker-like  drab  of  the  meads,  the  burn- 
ing crimson  of  haw  and  hip,  the  bead-glimmering  black- 
berry ;  has  noted  the  rapid  gradations  of  the  bracken  and 
fern  from  boldest  green  to  faintest  primrose ;  has  admired 


1 66  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

the  sturdy  oak  keeping  up  an  appearance  of  vitality  long 
after  its  compeers  have  succumbed,  until  with  a  few  plucky 
withstandings  of  the  blast  it  itself  gives  in,  shivering  and 
heartbroken. 

All  these  have  been  marshalled  before  his  review,  and  he 
concludes  that  on  the  whole,  though  the  autumn  in  its 
ripeness  may  be  more  enjoyable  and  beauteous  than  the 
uncertain  spring  and  too  hot-blooded  summer,  he  would 
certainly  not  vote  for  a  year  of  unrenewed  decay  ;  he  knows 
that  when  the  water-weeds  begin  to  rot  and  drift  away  from 
their  roots  the  fish  move  into  deep  water  and  are  more 
amenable  to  piscatorial  discipline  than  they  were  in  the 
days  when  cover  was  plentiful. 

Let  us,  therefore,  court  practical  thought  of  the  sport 
which  yet  remains  when  all  else  worth  troubling  about  has 
been  suspended.  By  November  the  last  salmon  and  troutr 
to  which  we  have  aforetime  borne  good  will  and  faithful 
testimony,  have  fully  retired  into  winter  quarters  and  winter 
occupations,  and  the  best  that  remains  for  the  angler  are 
the  fresh-water  shark  and  the  grayling.  Roach,  dace,  and 
perch  are  in  good,  some  think  the  very  best  of  condition  in 
the  late  autumn  months,  but  bottom-fishing  in  the  cold  and 
damp,  while  a  fair  test  of  devotion  and  hardihood,  will 
reign  over  a  comparatively  limited  constituency,  since  there 
are — to  adapt  a  simile  from  an  old  Puritan — hosts  of  fair- 
weather  anglers  as  well  as  fair-weather  Christians.  Pike- 
fishing,  therefore,  stands  far  ahead  on  the  catalogue  of 
winter  pj>ppr£u$iUes. 

Even  that  sportsman  who  sneers  at  humbler  members  of 
the  craft,  and  pretends  to  faint  at  the  sight  of  a  worm,  con- 
descends jpqcasionalLy  to  make  advances  to  the  pike,  and 


PIKE-FISHING.  1 6  7 

many  are  the  country-houses  where  a  Brobdingnagian 
specimen  is  encased  as  proof  of  the  prowess  of  the  squire, 
the  captain,  or  his  lordship.  In  their  condemnation  of 
"Cockneys"  the  upper  ten  of  the  angling  world  do  not 
include  the  wielder  of  trolling  or  spinning  rod,  though  they 
may  look  askance  at  a  bait-can.  The  pike,  more  even  than 
salmon  or  trout,  touches  the  fisherman  nature,  and  makes 
us  all  kin.  And  this  for  several  and  obvious  reasons. 

The  fish  is  the  largest  of  the  coarser  denizens  of  our 
waters,  and  as  such  appeals  to  the  sportsman  who  likes  to 
kill  something  that  cannot  be  whisked  like  a  minnow  over 
his  shoulder ;  and  there  is  always  the  possibility,  although 
experience  generally  reduces  the  probability  to  a  minimum, 
of  a  great  prize  to  be  remembered  as  long  as  he  lives  and 
handed  down  to  posterity  as  a  sacred  heir-loom.  The  pike 
is,  moreover,  a  heartless  scoundrel  who  sticks  at  nothing ; 
the  laws  relating  to  infanticide  he  regards  not ;  and  if  some 
of  the  legends  of  our  boyhood's  books  are  truth,  he  is  an 
ogre  more  atrocious  than  the  late  Fee-fi-fo-fum,  who,  we 
have  been  assured,  drove  a  thriving  trade  in  the  bone- 
grinding  business.  He  is  the  enemy  of  all  other  finsters, 
and  rests  not  until  he  has  worried  and  pouched  everything 
within  his  reach.  He  is  much  more  artful  than  some  per- 
sons suppose  him  to  be,  and  has  to  be  captured  with  a  con- 
siderable amount  of  guile,  and  if  taken  in  a  sportsmanlike 
manner  (of  which  more  presently)  battles  fairly  for  his 
life. 

A  ferocious  fish  of  prey,  he  merits  no  mercy,  for  he  gives 
none,  and  is  of  the  class  which  is  doomed  to  perish  by  the 
weapon  by  which  it  lives.  He  is  furthermore  abundant  in 
most  waters,  especially  in  England,  and  the  Government  as 


1 68  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

yet  have  not  protected  him  with  licence.  Finally,  to  stop 
short  in  an  enumeration  which  might  easily  be  extended,  he 
is,  numerous  assertions  notwithstanding,  worthy  of  respect  as 
an  article  of  food.  It  might  be  urged  that  his  appearance, 
his  wolfish  eyes  and  sharkish  jaws,  are  against  him ;  but 
what  would  become  of  us,  good  reader,  if  we  were  each  and 
all  judged  by  our  looks  ?  Besides,  I  have  said  enough  to 
prove  how  and  why  the  pike  should  be  every  angler's 
game. 

Think  kindly  of  Esox  Lucius,  if  only  for  the  quaint  stories 
— ay,  and  truly  wonderful  stories — to  which  he  has  from 
time  immemorial  given  rise.  It  has  been  said  that  he  is 
bred  from  weeds  by  the  help  of  the  sun's  heat;  that  men 
and  maids  have  been  attacked  by  him  ;  that  he  has  lived 
through  two  generations ;  that  he  flies  at  mules  coming 
down  to  drink,  and  maintains  a  bull-dog  grip  until,  dragged 
out,  the  animal's  owner  takes  him  off;  that  he  has  fought 
duels  with  otters  for  carp  captured  by  the  latter;  that  he 
possesses  a  natural  balsam  or  antidote  against  all  poison ; 
that  a  watch  with  a  ribbon  and  two  seals  attached  has  been 
taken  by  an  astonished  cook  out  of  his  capacious  maw ; 
that  in  a  pool  about  nine  yards  deep,  which  had  not  been 
fished  for  ages,  a  pike  was,  amidst  hundreds  of  spectators, 
drawn  out  by  a  rope  fastened  round  his  head  and  gills, 
which  pike  weighed  one  hundred  and  seventy  pounds,  and  had 
previously  pulled  the  clerk  of  the  parish  into  the  water ; 
that  fox  cubs  and  waterfowl  have  been  received  at  one  fell 
bolt  into  his  ravenous  gullet. 

This  and  more  also,  is  it  not  written  in  that  best  of  all 
Waltonian  chronicles — the  edition  enriched  by  the  experience 
of  "Ephemera"?  And  it  is  hard  to  say  what  is  true  and 


PIKE-FISHING.  169 

what  false  when  the  voracity  of  the  pike  is  the  question 
under  consideration.  Stories  almost  as  marvellous  as  any 
of  the  above  you  may  hear  to  the  present  day,  vouched  for 
as  true  by  modern  anglers.  At  the  first  blush  you  laugh  to 
scorn  the  narration  which  gives  the  weight  of  a  pike  at 
lyolb. — a  pretty  sensational  return  as  things  go  ;  but  judging 
from  the  rate  of  growth,  constitution,  and  general  character, 
there  is  no  reason  for  drawing  the  hard  and  fast  line  at  say 
thirty  pounds.  I  have  perfect  faith  in  the  oft-repeated 
assurance  that  in  Holland,  Germany,  and  Ireland  fish  up  to 
sixty  pounds  may  be — of  course  as  exceptional  examples — 
met  with.  Still,  if  the  pike-fisher  can  average  captives  ot 
eight  pounds  he  has  no  reason  to  complain,  and  from  what 
I  have  seen  during  the  last  year  or  two  I  suspect  there  are 
far  too  many  anglers  who  are  not  ashamed  to  take  and 
exhibit  jack  amongst  which  a  miserable  two-pounder  is  the 
premier  sample. 

Not  the  least  source  of  pleasure  to  the  pike-fisher  is  the 
opportunities  which  now  and  then  fall  in  his  way  of  visiting 
the  parks  of  English  landowners  where  the  waters  are  strictly 
preserved.  Such  water  usually  takes  the  form  of  ornamental 
lakes,  placed  where  it  shall  add  new  charm  to  the  tall 
ancestral  trees  of  the  fair  estate.  I  have  in  my  mind's  eye 
at  the  present  moment  one  of  these  sheets  of  water  where 
the  abounding  sport  is  not  less  enjoyable  than  the  beautiful 
scenery  and  interesting  historical  associations.  On  one 
side  the  trees  not  only  grow  by  the  waterside,  but  hang  over 
the  lake  in  dense  foliage  always  mirrored  in  the  surface,  and 
always  lending  new  colour  to  it.  Opposite  stands  an  ancient 
rookery,  from  which,  before  the  tender  May  leaves  have 
become  too  fully  developed,  many  a  young  cawer  is  tumbled 


1 70  WA TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

out  by  a  party  of  sportsmen,  mostly  farmers  and  tradesmen 
from  the  nearest  town,  who  are  permitted  on  two  given 
days  every  year  to  hold  a  rook-shooting  festival.  A  little  to 
the  rear  of  a  level  bright-green  lawn,  smooth  as  a  billiard- 
table  (when  newly'jiiown  by  the  noisy  machine),  half-hidden 
by  hoary-trunked  beeches,  stand  the  ruins  of  a  castle  that 
was  in  its  heyday^in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time,  and  whose  re- 
mains are  now  picturesque  and  covered  by  luxuriant  ivy. 
Owls  dwell  there,  bats  in  the  summer  time  wheel  in  and  out 
of  the  dusky  remnants  of  goodly  arches. 

Pull  your  boat  into  the  middle  of  the  lake,  and  look  away 
to  the  south-east.  Look  beyond  the  home  park  as  soon  as 
you  have  ceased  to  admire  that  peerless  herd  of  Channel 
Islands  cattle,  whose  representatives  have  worn  red,  blue, 
and  yellow  ribbons  at  famous  agricultural  shows.  They  are 
cattle,  although" you  may  be  deceived  by  their  sleek  beauty 
into  believing  them  to  be  deer.  The  deer  are  the  specks 
that  dot  the  green  slope  beyond  the  moat  and  fence  which 
keep  them  to  their  own  haunts,  and  on  the  crest,  crowned 
by  forest  trees  of  every  kind,  is  the  spot  I  wish  you  to 
observe.  This  is  where  Oliver  Cromwell  is  said  to  have 
surveyed  the  ground  and  planned  his  attack ;  and  not  far 
from  Bonder  boat-house  is  a  bit  of  broken  ground  where  he 
planted  his  rude  cannon  and  pounded  away  with  partial 
success  upon  the  castle.  For  a  mile  the  lake  thus  extends 
amidst  the  scenery  characteristic  of  English  country  life, 
scenery  which  cannot  be  matched  in  the  wide  world, — the 
scenery  of  an  English  gentleman's  hereditary  estate. 

I  linger  over  this  scene  because  it  is  typical  of  hundreds 
of  similar  pictures  scattered  over  our  lovely  English  shires 
with  such  variations  as  history  and  locality  enforce;  and 


PIKE-FISHING.  171 

in  each  there  will  be  some  fascinating  link  with  the  past, 
some  special  charm,  artificial  or  natural,  to  assert  itself. 
Nor  do  I  forget  that  in  and  out  of  yonder  alleys  two- 
centuries  ago  there  walked  a  great  hero  musing  upon  the 
strange  adventures  of  his  life  and  the  temporary  cloud 
which  hung  over  his  brilliant  prospects.  Probably  we  have 
been  walking  over  the  precise  spot  where  Raleigh  sat  and 
wrote,  and  capturing  the  lineal  descendants  of  the  fish 
upon  which  he  commented  in  the  following  : — 

"  Here  are  no  false  entrapping  baits 
Too  hasty  for  too  hasty  fates, 

Unless  it  be 

The  fond  credulity 

Of  silly  fish,  the  worldlings  who  still  look 
Upon  the  bait,  but  never  on  the  hook." 

Were  I  owner  of  such  a  fair  piece  of  water  as  we  find  in> 
every  English  park,  or  proprietor  of  a  fishery  to  which 
anglers  were  admitted  on  payment,  each  recipient  of  per- 
mission to  fish,  friend  or  stranger,  should  be  bound  strictly 
to  certain  rules  :  for  example,  there  should  be  no  pike- 
fishing  till  the  ist  of  October  ;  all  fish  under  three  pounds 
should  be  returned  to  their  native  element ;  and  very  posi- 
tively no  gorge  hooks,  for  either  live  or  dead  bait,  should 
under  any  circumstance  be  allowed.  This  last,  I  am  aware> 
would  appear  to  be  a  severe  rule,  but  it  would  apply  to- 
every  one  alike  and  would  be  absolutely  necessary  if  the 
smaller  fish  are  to  be  returned  to  the  water.  Snap-fishing 
is  the  fairest  and  most  sportsmanlike  way  of  capturing 
pike ;  and  though  it  would  be  too  much  to  say  that  it  is 
the  only  method  a  real  sportsman  would  adopt,  it  is  cer- 
tainly the  artistic  thing  to  do. 


172  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

It  may  appear  strange  after  this — but  what  is  there  in 
this  inconsistent  world  more  inconsistent  than  human 
nature? — to  sing  the  praises  of  trolling  with  the  dead 
gorge,  and  to  confess  that  in  eight  expeditions  out  of  a 
dozen  it  is  the  mode  to  which  I  give  preference.  In  this  I 
am  dealing  only  with  rivers  governed  by  no  such  rules  as 
the  above.  If  the  gorge  hook  were  prohibited  no  one 
would  more  cheerfully  adhere  to  the  regulations  than  my- 
self, but  where  the  majority  of  anglers  use  it  in  one  of  its 
two  possible  forms,  it  would  be  an  unnecessary  self-denial 
to  place  oneself  at  a  disadvantage  with  one's  fellows.  It  can 
scarcely  be  gainsaid  that  trolling  is  the  pleasantcst  and 
surest  fashion  in  pike-fishing.  It  is  pleasantest  because 
it  offers  the  advantage  of  perpetual  motion  with  the  mini- 
mum of  toil ;  it  is  surest  because  you  can  cover  all  ground 
and  go  to  the  fish  instead  of  leaving  the  fish  to  come  to 
you. 

Many  experienced  men  maintain  that  more  fish  are  taken 
by  spinning ;  on  the  whole,  however,  and  taking  one  day 
with  another,  this  I  have  not  found  to  be  the  case.  There 
are  times  when  the  fish  lie  close  and  lazy  in  holes  and 
nooks  where  the  spinning  flight  passes  above  them,  or  at 
too  great  a  distance  to  tempt  them,  in  their  then  state  of 
mind,  from  their  shelter.  They  are  like  Mr.  Gladstone 
with  the  House  of  Lords ;  they  will  think  over  the  busi- 
ness, and  by  that  time,  lo !  the  bait  has  been  whisked  out  of 
reach  and  sight. 

The  dead  fish  dropped  carefully,  and  worked  in  an 
artistically  up  and  down  movement,  to  their  own  level  and 
immediately  before  them,  leaves  no  time  for  reflection. 
Their  sharklike  instincts  prompt  an  instantaneous  dart,  and 


PIKE-FISHING.  173 

the  murderous  jaws  snap  in  a  moment  across  the  middle 
of  the  bait.  True,  after  being  retained  and  run  hither 
and  thither,  you  may  be  mortified  to  find  your  free  gift 
rejected  and  returned  to  your  hands  mangled,  but  you 
have  had  the  excitement  of  the  "run,"  which  is  not  the 
less  exciting  because  it  is  succeeded  by  the  blank  of  dis- 
appointment. You  may,  and  you  naturally  do,  condemn 
yourself  into  thinking  that,  had  you  been  spinning,  the  fish 
would  have  been  all  the  same  yours ;  why  not,  in  the 
absence  of  proof  to  the  contrary,  console  yourself  with  the 
reflection  that  he  lay  perdu  between  two  banks  of  weeds 
either  of  which  would  have  caught  your  triangles,  to  your 
loss  of  time  and  perhaps  property  ? 

There  is — but  all  these  opinions  are  deferentially  ad- 
vanced, be  it  understood — more  variety  in  the  old- 
fashioned  art  of  trolling  than  in  the  modern  science  of 
spinning.  To  spin  at  all  successfully  you  must  keep  up 
a  certain  uniform  speed,  and  where  there  are  weeds  (the 
normal  condition  of  pike  waters)  you  cannot  work  very 
near  the  bottom.  The  troller  has  therefore  more  to  study, 
and  must  regulate  the  rate  at  which  he  moves  his  bait  by 
the  colour  of  the  water,  the  strength  of  the  current,  and  the 
force  of  the  wind.  He  may  pause  now  and  then  to  look 
about  him,  and  dawdle  in  his  employment.  The  spinner 
must  slacken  not,  neither  must  his  eyes  wander  from  his 
line.  Take  a  couple  of  men  who  have  been  pursuing  the 
different  methods  during  the  day,  and  examine  the  right- 
hand  forefinger  of  each,  and  it  will  be  strange  if  the 
spinner  cannot  produce  certain  red,  raw  diagonal  stripes 
as  witnesses  to  the  truth  of  my  argument. 

Sometimes  you  will  find  it  necessary  to  let  the  bait  at 


174  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

•every  cast  touch  and  for  a  moment  rest  upon  the  bottom,  at 
others  you  may  impart  to  it  a  spinning  action.  Trollers 
•often  make  the  mistake  of  working  with  too  much  haste, 
.and  others  f.ill  into  the  opposite  extreme.  The  middle  course 
here,  as  in  most  human  affairs,  pays  best.  Trolling  has 
many  of  the  advantages  of  fly-fishing.  With  your  bag  to 
your  back  and  your  gaff  stuck  into  your  girdle,  you  may  move 
through  the  enemy's  country  unencumbered  with  baggage, 
free  to  come  and  go,  to  keep  on  or  to  halt,  as  inclination 
may  suggest  and  occasion  require.  Booted  to  the  thigh  in 
trolling  equipment,  with  nothing  more  than  your  trace  book, 
bait  box,  flask,  and  waterproofs  over  the  shoulder,  there  is 
nothing  after  fly-fishing  so  pleasure-giving  as  to  wander  by 
the  side  of  a  river  with  a  light  trolling  rod  in  your  hand. 
In  some  parts  of  the  Midland  district  the  anglers  use  a 
singular  rod  of  not  more  than  nine  feet  long  for  trolling.  It 
is  quite  stiff,  which  I  take  to  be  a  fault,  but  the  owners  can 
throw  an  immense  distance  and  quite  accurately  with  it 
The  chief  objection  to  this  weapon,  is  that  it  is  useful  for 
nothing  else  except  live  bait  fishing  with  the  gorge. 

And  how  conveniently  that  little  interval  when  the  "  run  " 
is  under  weigh  comes  in  !  The  angler  never  fills  his  pipe 
so  proudly,  so  serenely,  so  full  of  hope  and  determination  as 
when,  satisfying  himself  that  the  line  is  free  in  the  rings,  and 
the  winch  handle  clear  of  twigs,  grass,  and  other  obstacles, 
he  lays  down  the  rod  to  allow  the  candidate  for  his  gaff  to 
pouch  in  undisturbed  confidence.  If  the  run  comes  to 
nothing  he  does  not  give  up  in  despair.  Perhaps  the 
points  of  the  hook  have  not  been  rank  enough,  perhaps 
too  rank,  perhaps  the  lead  has  been  felt  and  the  fish  ren- 
dered suspicious.  He  therefore  tries  him  a  second  time 


PIKE-FISHING.  175 

with  a  brighter  bait,  and  should  he  still  refuse  thinks  no  more 
of  the  matter. 

There  are  a  few  primary  conditions  which  may  be  insisted 
upon  in  pike-fishing  at  all  times,  and  more  particularly  as 
regards  trolling.  The  tail  of  the  bait  should  always  be 
closely  tied  and  the  protruding  spines  cleanly  cut  off.  A 
slovenly  angler  loses  half  the  battle.  The  veteran  jack-fisher 
whose  pupil  I  was  proud  to  be,  and  who  has  sworn  by 
trolling  as  against  spinning  for  half  a  century  with  unfailing 
success,  would  never  fix  loop  to  swivel  until  the  gills  as  well 
as  the  tail  were  neatly  tied  under  the  shanks  of  the  hook, 
and  certainly  if  the  slight  amount  of  extra  trouble  this  gives 
does  little  good,  it  can  do  no  harm.  But  I  have  met  with 
several  instances  where,  for  want  of  this  little  nail,  the  shoe 
has  been  lost. 

Again,  never  treat  the  pike  family  as  if  they  were  arrant 
fools.  We  take  it  too  much  for  granted  that  anything  will 
do  for  pike  and  perch.  Thus  it  is  amazing  to  behold  the 
clumsy  gimp  and  massive  tackle  used,  fair  weather  and  foul, 
by  men  wh^.*  you  would  reasonably  expect  to  have  more 
discretion.  In  clouded  water  use  anything  that  comes  upper- 
most, but  under  unfavourable  circumstances  as  much  care 
should  be  taken  as  with  the  more  wary  tribes  of  fish.  Walk 
along  close  to  the  edge  of  a  pike  water  and  see  how  at  your, 
approach  the  fish  rush  away.  Instead  of  assuming  that  the 
pike  fears  and  cares  for  nothing,  act  always  as  if  he  were  as 
shy  as  a  carp,  and  you  lose  nothing,  while  the  certainty  is 
that  you  will  be  a  frequent  gainer. 

To  keep  as  far  from  the  water  as  possible,  at  first  at  any 
rate,  is  a  precaution  I  would  recommend  to  every  one. 
Eegin  with  a  cast  that  is  really  no  cast  at  all ;  that  is  to  say, 


176  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

noiselessly  drop — not  throw — the  bait  as  near  the  bank  as 
you  can,  then  begin  to  cast  in  successive  lengths  at  wilL 
The  man  who  thus  approaches  water  which  has  been 
unapproached  on  the  same  day  stands  an  excellent  chance 
of  making  acquaintance  with  the  prowlers  who  lie  under 
the  overhanging  banks,  or  who  have  come  to  the  shallows 
for  small  fry.  More  pike  in  an  ordinarily  deep  river  are 
taken  in  this  way  within  six  feet  of  the  shore  than  further 
afield. 

Then  as  to  gorging.  Very  whimsical  are  the  notions 
prevailing  on  this  head.  I  know  of  many  persons  wha 
literally  take  out  their  watches  at  the  first  signal  of  a  run, 
and  be  the  movement  of  a  fish  what  it  may,  strike  home  as 
soon  as  ten  minutes  have  elapsed.  A  very  old  young  gentle- 
man I  could  name  gives  precisely  fifteen  minutes'  grace. 
Now,  it  is  indisputable  that  if  the  fish  has  gorged  there  is  no 
danger  of  losing  him,  but  at  the  same  time  I  would  submit 
that  this  waste  of  time  in  a  short  winter's  day  is  quite  un- 
necessary if  the  habits  of  the  creature  be  sufficiently  studied. 
It  is  every  pike-fisher's  experience  that  quantities  of  fish  are 
lost  by  striking  too  soon.  Most  experienced  trollers  I  think 
will  agree  with  me  that  if  the  gorging  process  be  not  com- 
plete in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  it  will  never  be  effected,  since 
Esox  Lucius  is  only  making  sport  of  you,  instead  of  you  of 
him ;  also  that  at  times  the  fish  are  in  no  haste  to  close  the 
transaction. 

Hit  or  miss  I  always  proceed  thus: — Tug,  tug,  and  a 
rush.  That  is  a  run.  The  fish  may  stop  soon,  or  he  may 
run  fifty  or  a  hundred  yards.  The  assumption  may  usually 
be  taken,  however,  that  a  pike  is  not  far  from  his  temporary 
lair,  and  I  very  much  question  whether,  when  the  line 


PIKE-FISHING.  177 

unreels  at  great  length,  the  fish  has  not  swallowed  the  bait 
almost  at  a  gulp.  However,  there  is  the  run,  and  the  fish 
has  stopped.  Should  he  after  a  momentary  pause  move  off, 
and  stop  again,  only  to  continue  his  journey  after  another 
equally  brief  halt,  the  run  is  not  over.  By-and-by  one,  two, 
three,  five  minutes  pass  with  no  further  movement  except  a 
scarcely  perceptible  vibration  of  the  line,  should  there  be 
little  or  no  slack  out.  Whenever  the  fish  now  moves  off  I 
tighten,  strike  very  gently,  and  winch  in ;  and  I  venture  to 
say  in  the  majority  of  cases  there  will  be  a  fish  at  the  end  of 
the  line.  This,  like  any  other  suggestion,  may  fail  in  appli- 
cation, but  I  have  found  it  in  the  main  reliable.  Quite  as 
often  as  not  the  entire  transaction  of  run,  pouch,  strike,  and 
capture  might  be  effected  within  five  or  eight  minutes. 

Live  baiting  is  a  deadly  operation  sometimes,  and  an 
exciting  one  if  the  bait  is  affixed  to  snap-tackle — that  is  to 
say,  a  small  hook  thrust  under  the  back  fin,  and  one  or  two 
triangles  (one  on  each  side)  hanging  level  with  or  slightly 
below  the  belly.  On  lakes,  or  broad  rivers  where  a  thirty- 
yard  cast  is  desirable,  it  requires  not  a  little  skill  to  haul  in 
the  line  until  you  have  the  requisite  tautness  for  striking, 
because  striking  at  these  times  must  be  sharp.  This  style 
of  fishing  in  a  narrow  river  abounding  with  deep  holes  which 
can  be  brought  nearly  under  the  point  of  the  rod  gives  won- 
derfully good  sport,  and  is  figuratively  as  well  as  literally 
above  board.  Dace  for  live  baiting,  as  for  spinning  and 
trolling,  are  immeasurably  beyond  roach,  gudgeon,  or  trout 
as  baits,  and  next  to  dace  a  large  gudgeon  will  be  found 
most  lively  and  hardy. 

The  use  of  the  live  gorge  hook  threddle<  i  under  the  skin 
suits  the  idle  man,  or  the  unskilful,  to  tne  letter.  Open 

N 


178  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

confession  compels  me  to  admit  that  I  often  fall  back  upon 
it,  but  never  without  the  guilty  feeling  that  after  all  it  is 
next  door  to  poaching,  and  that  I  am  for  the  time  a  mere 
trimmer-fisherman.  No  pot-hunter  should  be,  or  ever  is, 
without  it.  There  is  small  skill  connected  with  a  process 
where  the  fish  does  all  the  work.  It  has  not  the  excuse  of 
trolling,  in  which  the  chief  art  is  how  to  find  your  fish.  The 
live  bait  wriggles  and  swims,  the  jack  comes  from  near  or 
far,  and,  after  inspection,  takes  it.  After  the  lapse  of  the 
usual  time  you  haul  in  and  lift  him  into  the  boat.  Compare 
his  feeble  attempts  to  escape  with  the  play  given  by  a  fish 
hooked  only  in  his  horny,  prickly  mouth.  There  is  no 
comparison,  and  when  you  hear  men  lamenting  that  in  this 
sort  of  live  baiting  they  have  been  "broken  away" — that  is 
the  regulation  phrase — you  need  not  be  perplexed  if  you 
are  somewhat  puzzled  how  to  estimate  their  skill  as  anglers. 
Assuming  that  every  pike-fisher  deserving  the  name  subjects 
his  line,  traces,  swivels,  and  hooks  to  a  smart  testing  strain 
before  he  begins,  and  that  they  are  of  ordinary  strength,  it 
is  difficult  to  conceive  how  a  pike  with  a  couple  of  hooks 
deep  in  his  gullet  tearing  at  his  vitals  can,  with  ordinary 
patience,  break  violently  away.  Grant  the  fellow  time,  and 
he  may  be  turned  up  like  a  log. 

Norfolk,  which  used  to  be  one  of  the  best  pike  counties 
in  England,  is  being  ruined  for  the  angler  by  the  unsports- 
manlike "liggering"  or  trimmer-fishing  practised  there. 
The  famous  Broads  on  the  eastern  side  are  subject  to  a 
wholesale  system  of  poaching.  Here  is  an  instance.  In 
1873  a  party  of  men  obtained  permission  to  fish  a  private 
Broad,  and  set  out  from  the  capital  city  with  an  immense 
supply  of  live  baits  and  a  cargo  of  trimmers.  They  never 


PIKE-FISHING.  179 

put  rod  together,  scorning  such  a  namby-pamby  fashion  of 
fishing.  Within  a  couple  of  hours  of  their  pushing  off  from 
shore,  between  eighty  and  ninety  trimmers  were  bobbing 
upon  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  for  the  remainder  of  the 
day  the  men  were  incessantly  occupied  in  rowing  from 
trimmer  to  trimmer  and  hauling  in  the  spoil.  The  fish 
happened  to  be  in  one  of  those  hungry  humours  when  there 
seems  to  be  scarcely  any  bounds  to  their  voracity,  and  at 
the  end  of  the  day  the  "sportsmen"  were  compelled  to 
hire  a  farmer's  cart  to  take  home  the  booty.  At  a  loss  to 
know  how  to  dispose  of  the  quantity,  they  sold  it  in  open 
market  at  twopence  per  pound.  By  accident  the  owner  of 
the  Broad,  next  morning,  passed  by  the  stall,  and  was 
naturally  arrested  by  the  novel  sight.  When  he  carelessly 
inquired  where  the  fish  came  from,  and  was  informed — for 
the  fellows  had  not  the  cunning  to  keep  their  own  counsel — 
that  they  were  the  representatives  of  his  own  domain,  his 
astonishment  and  anger  may  be  imagined. 

Once  more  let  me  confess  to  preaching  where  I  do  not 
always  practise.  On  one  Allhallows  Day  I  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  fishing  a  small  lake  under  the  Chiltern  Hills. 
There  had  been  a  remarkably  sharp  frost  for  that  time  of 
the  year,  and  there  was,  over  the  narrow  mouth  of  the  reser- 
voir, ice  a  third  of  an  inch  thick,  which  took  full  half  an 
hour  to  cut  through  with  a  punt.  The  morning  was  a 
simple  blank.  Dace  curled  by  the  best  spinning  flights  to 
be  procured.  Artificial  gudgeon  and  minnows,  and  spoon 
bait,  were  tried,  and  there  was  not  a  sign  of  success.  The 
luncheon  hour  found  us  weary  and  despairing :  a  live  roach 
was  then  tried  with  the  usual  gorge  hook,  whose  gimp  was 
passed  from  the  shoulder  under  the  side  skin,  out  of  the 


1 80  WA  TERS1DE  SKETCHES. 

back  not  far  from  the  tail.  Before  the  cold  meat  was  fairly 
removed  from  the  napkin  the  float  went  off  like  an  arrow, 
and  this  proved  a  keynote  to  which  a  rattling  tune  was 
played  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 

Not  only  was  the  afternoon's  sport  good,  but  the  sur- 
roundings were  themselves  most  delightful.  The  keeper 
was  out  with  his  dogs  and  punt  seeking  wild  ducks,  and  as 
the  birds  took  a  good  deal  of  shooting,  and  the  fowler  did  not 
stop  until  he  had  four  brace,  besides  a  couple  of  coots, 
there  was  plenty  to  look  at  between  the  disappearances  of 
the  great  crimson  float.  Another  source  of  observation 
was  the  effect  of  the  frost  upon  the  trees. 

"It  shook  the  sere  leaves  from  the  wood 
As  if  a  storm  passed  by." 

The  wind  was  a  mere  breath,  and  that  at  fitful  intervals, 
but  whenever  the  breath  came,  like  a  passing  sigh,  the 
rustling  of  the  leaves  which  had  been  stricken  by  the  frost, 
and  the  tremor  and  haste  of  their  flight  to  the  ground,  were 
most  curious  to  behold.  In  the  morning  the  bit  of  lawn 
between  the  keeper's  house  and  the  landing  steps  was  bare  : 
in  the  evening  it  was  ankle  deep  in  the  dark-brown  dead 
leaves  shed  by  the  horse-chestnut  trees.  Of  my  "take"  I 
will  only  say  that  a  new  rush  basket  had  to  be  purchased  to 
convey  it  to  town,  and  that  some  unknown  friend  thought  it 
worth  a  paragraph  in  the  columns  of  a  certain  sporting 
journal.  During  the  day,  at  another  end  of  the  lake,  a 
party  of  merry  gentlemen  had  been  laughing  and  shouting 
and  singing,  so  much  so  that  it  never  occurred  to  me  that 
they  could  be  prospering  much  with  their  rods.  They  had 
scarcely  moved  from  one  spot,  but  they  came  in  at  dusk 
with  seventy  pounds  of  fish  between  them. 


PIKE-FISHING.  181 

Spinning  demands,  last,  but  as  I  have  already  suggested, 
not  least,  some  notice.  Many  high-class  anglers  disdain  to 
fish  for  pike  in  any  other  way.  There  are  several  kinds  of 
flights  recommended  as  superior  to  all  others,  but  so  long  as 
the  bait  spins  and  there  is  something  dangerous  at  its  vent 
— there  or  thereabouts — it  does  not  signify  much.  A  large 
strong  triangle  at  the  end  of  a  short  length  of  gimp,  passed 
into  the  vent  and  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  bait,  is  used  at 
all  times  by  various  friends  of  my  own,  who  declare  it  sur- 
passes every  invention  that  has  been  devised.  Others  give 
the  palm  to  a  succession  of  the  most  terrible  triangles  ; 
others  use  nothing  but  artificial  baits.  There  are  inventions 
by  Francis,  Pennell,  Otter,  and  I  know  not  how  many  others, 
and  they  are  all  good,  and  all  worth  a  trial. 

The  pike-fisher's  box  should  contain  two  or  three  flights 
for  natural  bait,  a  spoon,  a  large  phantom  minnow,  and  a 
medium  sized  artificial  dace ;  having  these  he  need  not  re- 
main at  home  because  the  live-bait  can  has  returned  empty 
from  the  tackle-shop.  Spinning  from  boat  or  bank  does  not 
require  the  extreme  length  of  line  supposed  by  some  to  be 
necessary,  and  young  beginners  may  to  an  erroneous  con- 
ception of  what  is  here  essential  trace  the  inextricable  tangles 
which  acf  so  prejudicially  against  the  temper  and  which  send 
their  bait  round  about  their  ears  instead  of  twenty  yards  oft" 
as  they  had  fondly  hoped. 

Let  it  never  be  forgotten  that  a  short  line  cleanly  cast, 
and  a  bait  splashing  little,  and  spun  back  well  under  hand, 
are  more  effective  a  hundred  times  than  a  sensational  hurl 
into  space  ;  also  that  to  clear  your  way  as  you  go  and  render 
yourself  able  to  stand  close  to  the  edge  of  the  water,  a 
preliminary  cast  right  and  left  about  a  yard  from  and  parallel 


1 82  WA TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

with  the  bank  should  be  essayed.  Where  rushes  fringe  the 
river  this  precaution  should  never  be  omitted.  Time  and 
practice  alone  make  a  good  spinner,  and  there  are  veteran 
anglers  who,  chiefs  at  trolling,  are  in  the  last  rank  as 
spinners.  On  the  other  hand,  a  masterful  spinner  is  more 
likely  to  be  an  effective  troller. 

Spinning  may  not  be  the  pleasantest  or  surest,  but  there 
can  be  no  hesitation  in  pronouncing  it  the  most  artistic 
method  of  pike-fishing.  But  there  is  spinning  and  spinning, 
and  many  men  delude  themselves  into  the  fancy  that  their 
clumsy  splatter-dashing  is  the  correct  thing.  The  best 
spinner  is  he  who,  like  Caleb  Plummer,  goes  as  near  to 
nature  as  possible.  Spinning  with  the  artificial  contrivance 
makes  you  independent  of  the  bait  nuisance.  Procuring 
bait,  dead  or  alive,  is,  as  many  of  my  readers  will  ruefully 
admit,  frequently  a  more  formidable  undertaking  than  getting 
the  pike,  and  to  travel  a  distance  either  in  train  or  dogcart, 
on  foot  or  on  horseback,  with  a  can  full  of  splashing  fish 
that  will  give  up  the  ghost  unless  the  water  be  continually 
changed,  is  a  penalty  and  not  a  pleasure.  . 

The  various  spoonbaits,  phantom  fish,  shadowy  fancies, 
and  well  made  imitations  of  a  more  substantial  nature,  are 
so  numerous  and  cheap,  and  answer  the  main  purpose  of 
sport  so  well,  that  the  spinner  may  laugh  at  contingencies 
which  give  infinite  trouble  to  trollers  and  live  baiters.  The 
fish  angled  for — who,  after  all,  is  not  a  totally  disinterested 
party — has  a  better  chance  also,  and  the  fisherman  having 
arrested  his  prisoner  is  able  to  exercise  a  very  summary 
jurisdiction  upon  him.  However,  on  the  question  of  pike- 
fishing,  opinions  will,  always  differ,  and  pike-fishers,  touching 
the  respective  methods  which  this  sketch  has  suggested,  will, 


PIKE-FISHING.  183 

let  me  hope,  agree  to  differ  and  object,  if  it  shall  so  please 
them,  with  that  urbanity  and  gentleness  of  spirit  which  from 
the  beginning  has  characterised  their  fraternity. 

A  serio-comic  incident  which  occurred  to  me  once  upon 
a  time  while  spinning  I  cannot  forbear  recounting.  Hearing 
that  in  the  small  reservoirs  attached  to  some  print  works 
near  Manchester  there  were  pike,  I  soon  procured  the 
manufacturer's  permission,  and  started  off  from  the  metropolis 
of  cotton-dom  with  nothing  but  an  artificial  trout  as  bait. 
It  had  never  been  remarkable  for  its  perfection,  and  after 
long  use  had  become  battered  out  of  shape  and  colour.  All 
the  reservoirs  but  one  were  carefully  spun  over  with  the 
unlikely  machine  to  no  purpose.  In  the  last  a  fish  beyond 
doubt  struck  at  it  four  times  in  succession,  and  mightily 
puzzled  was  I  that  nothing  more  productive  had  resulted. 
An  inspection,  however,  showed  that  the  loose  triangles  over 
the  shoulder  had  not  a  sharp  point  between  them,  and  it 
became  necessary  with  a  bit  of  thread,  and  in  a  very  rough- 
and-ready  manner,  to  substitute  for  them  the  more  prickly 
tail  triangle.  At  the  next  spin  I  hooked  my  gentleman— a 
long,  gaunt,  wretchedly-coloured  fish,  with  a  body  as  thin  as 
a  hake's.  Not  another  "touch"  was  received  during  the 
remainder  of  the  afternoon,  and  I  departed  with  my  famine- 
stricken  wretch  in  the  basket.  Three  months  later  at  a 
junction  railway  station  in  Lancashire  I  fell  into  conversa- 
tion with  a  homeward-bound  party  of  anglers  whose  rods 
and  baskets  I  considered  sufficient  warrant  for  self-intro- 
duction. By-and-by  I  told  the  story  of  the  starved  pike, 
starved  as  I  was  now  able  to  say,  for  I  had  dissected  him  to 
discover  the  cause  of  his  preternatural  lankiness.  Amiddle- 
.aged  man  broke  forth  into  lamentation — 


1 84  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

"  Eh !  mon,  and  wur  it  thee  that  tuk  it  ?  Aw  looved 
yon  fish  gradely,  that  aw  did." 

To  the  end  of  my  days  I  may  not  forget  the  pathetic 
melancholy  of  that  man's  tone  and  countenance.  After  he 
had  mourned  in  silence  awhile  I  brought  him  round — by 
the  aid  of  the  refreshment  counter — and  the  murder  came 
out.  In  one  of  his  fishing  trips  at  holiday  time  he  had 
captured  a  pikelet  while  angling  for  roach,  had  brought  it 
home,  deposited  it  in  the  reservoir,  and  fed  it  tenderly. 
The  pike  throve,  and,  according  to  his  narrative,  some 
intimacy  sprang  up  between  them  ;  he  saddened  as  he 
remembered  how  the  fish  would  come  to  the  side  to  be  fed, 
and  firmly  believed  that  it  knew  as  well  as  he  did  when  -the 
Easter  and  Whitsuntide  holidays,  and  a  consequent  glut  of 
gudgeon  and  minnows,  drew  near.  By-and-by  the  man  lost 
employment,  and  in  his  absence  his  wife,  who  had  always 
personally  disliked  "  t'  varmint/'  left  it  to  its  own  resources. 
During  that  unlucky  interval  my  ruthless  and  fatal  hand 
robbed  the  reservoir  of  its  one  inhabitant,  and  that  inhabi- 
tant of  its  miserable  life.  The  scant  comfort  left  to  Tim 
Bobbin  was  that  the  dark  uncertainty  as  to  its  fate  had 
been  removed  from  his  mind  by  my  casual  appearance  on 
the  junction  platform. 


PRACTICAL  NOTES  ON  PIKE  AND  PIKE-FISHING. 
The  season  of  1874-5  furnished  numerous  additions  to 
our  evidence  respecting  the  weight  of  pike  in  English 
waters.  The  Thames  yielded  several  fish  over  and  above 
2olb.  weight,  but  the  largest  specimen  was  one  of  35lb. 
netted  by  one  of  the  Royal  keepers  in  Rapley  Lake  near 


PIKE-FISHING.  185 

Lagshot.  I  have  seen  several  preserved  specimens  of  fish 
of  about  3olb.  weight  in  different  parts  of  the  country,  but 
there  are  none  to  my  knowledge  so  heavy  as  that  mentioned 
above,  of  which  Mr.  Frank  Buckland  took  a  cast.  We 
hear  of  exceptional  pike  of  4olb.,  but  the  stories  are 
generally  second-hand.  The  fishmongers  at  Leadenhall 
have  had  Dutch  pike  up  to  481b. 

During  the  high  floods  that  occurred  in  the  Thames 
valley  during  the  weeks  succeeding  the  turn  of  the  new  year 
(1875),  the  pike-fishers  were  completely  nonplussed.  One 
of  the  best  known  amongst  them  went  up  the  river  as  soon 
as  there  seemed  to  be  a  prospect  of  success,  and  found  the 
water,  to  his  disgust,  in  colour  and  consistency,  not  unlike 
pea-soup.  All  his  efforts  were  unsuccessful  till  luncheon 
time.  Then  he  moored  the  punt  to  the  rushes  in  a  position 
commanding  a  quiet  eddy.  He  discarded  the  ordinary 
method  of  live-baiting,  and,  by  affixing  a  heavy  bullet  a 
yard  from  the  hook,  improvised  a  rude  ledgering  apparatus. 
The  result  justified  his  choice  of  both  place  and  method. 
His  live-bait  were  large  dace,  and  the  yard  of  free  tracing 
below  the  bullet  gave  them  an  opportunity  of  pirouetting  in 
a  pretty  wide  circle.  The  angler  had  fortunately  "  struck 
'ile";  the  eddy  of  his  choice  happened  no  doubt  to  be  the 
furnished  apartments  into  which  a  large  family  of  pike  had 
been  driven  by  stress  of  water,  and  the  bait  had  dropped 
into  their  midst  like  manna  in  the  wilderness.  Their  pike- 
ships  one  after  another  simply  opened  their  jaws  and 
absorbed  the  treacherous  dace,  without  moving  a  foot, 
running  madly  when  they  found  out  the  sort  of  man  the 
angler  was,  but  till  then  taking  things  ridiculously  easy.  In 
one  lucky  hour — I  saw  the  fish,  beautifully  shaped  and 


1 86  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

marked,  spread  out  on  a  tray,  and  heard  the  story  from  the 
sportsman's  own  lips — the  gentleman  took  six  fish,  the  largest 
being  i3^1b.,  iolb.,  and  Qlb. — total  4olb. 

There  is  a  well-known  lake  near  Luton  where  it  is  not  un- 
usual for  two  rods  to  take  a  couple  of  hundredweight  of 
pike  averaging  seven  pounds  in  a  day.  In  an  angling  club 
room  in  Shoreditch  there  is  preserved  the  produce  of  one 
gentleman's  rod  in  a  single  day.  On  reaching  a  nobleman's 
park  in  Kent  he  found  the  lake  he  was  privileged  to  fish 
frozen,  with  the  exception  of  one  small  sheltered  corner,  and 
more  for  the  sake  of  not  plodding  back  through  the  snow 
without  a  trial  than  from  any  expectation  of  sport  he  here 
threw  in  a  live  bait.  Before  he  left  the  lake  he  had  taken 
fish  of  the  following  weights  : — 281b.,  i81b.  i4oz.,  9lb.  5oz., 
Sib.  QOZ.,  and  5lb.  5oz. ;  and  five  splendid  fish  they  are 
even  in  their  stuffed  state. 

Pike  may  be  caught  in  summer  time  with  a  gigantic  and 
gaudy  fly  worked  like  a  salmon  fly  about  two  inches  below 
the  surface.  With  a  pliable  spinning  rod,  and  a  water  in 
which  aquatic  vegetation  flourishes,  some  business-like  exe- 
cution may  be  wrought  in  August  or,  if  hot,  in  September,  by 
this  plan.  Fishing  for  pike  with  frog  has  gone  out  of  fashion 
I  fancy  of  late  years,  but  it  is  a  killing  process,  rightly 
managed. 

A  small  perch  with  its  dorsal  fin  cut  off  makes  a  good  and 
tough  spinning  bait.  Pike  in  their  natural  condition  of  life 
give  the  perch  as  wide  a  berth  as  possible.  I  once  took  a  half 
digested  perch,  nevertheless,  out  of  a  pike's  stomach  $ 
mentioning  which  circumstance  to  an  old  fisherman  he  de- 
scribed to  me  how  once  he  had  watched  a  pike  pursue  a 
perch,  which  thrust  its  head  into  the  bank,  put  up  its  bristles, 


PIKE-FISHING.  187 

and  by  its  every  attitude  plainly  said  "  Catch  me  if  you 
can."  The  pike  remained  fixed  pointer-like  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  then  slowly  punted  himself  into  the  middle. 

Pike  may  be  eaten  baked  with  veal  stuffing,  boiled  with 
melted  butter  or,  best  of  all,  stuffed  and  roasted  with  strips 
of  bacon  tied  round  its  shoulders,  and  basted  to  a  fine 
pale  brown  colour. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

FRESH  AND   SALT. 

"  Night  came,  and  now  eight  bells  had  rung, 

While  careless  sailors,  ever  cheery, 
On  the  mid-watch  so  jovial  sung, 
With  tempers  labour  cannot  weary." 

THE  great  advantage  of  sojourning  near  the  sea-shore  is 
that  if  fresh  water  fails,  you  have  plenty  of  salt  close  at 
hand.  Fresh-water  fish  may,  and  too  frequently  do,  take 
offence  at  adverse  winds,  and  lose  their  tempers  and  become 
blind  because  of  a  little  clouded  water ;  your  salt-water 
denizens,  on  the  contrary,  are  above  (below  perhaps  I  ought  to 
say)  such  trifling  considerations  as  atmospheric  changes  and 
an  odd  storm  or  two  in  the  upper  air. 

The  Norfolk  Broads  when  they  do  yield  sport  do  so  in  no 
stinted  measure ;  they  bless  you  in  basket  and  store.  But 
they  are  uncertain  as  the  idle  wind  which  you  respect  not. 
The  rivers  Waveney  and  Yare  contain  roach,  eels,  and  pike, 
with  cartloads  of  bream  in  the  summer,  but  they,  too,  are  un- 
usually capricious  in  their  behaviour. 

After  some  days  of  paltry  sport,  do  not  blame  me  if  I  tire 
of  the  district  and  everything  associated  with  it.  I  have  had 
a  turn  at  three  of  the  fourteen  Broads  a  few  miles  inland 
from  the  Norfolk  coast ;  have  pulled  through  the  watery 
lanes  bounded  by  walls  of  bulrush  and  sedge,  and  tried 
my  hardest  under  the  blazing  sun  in  the  open  water ;  have 


FRESH  AND  SALT.  189 

fumed  and  fretted,  and  have  been  only  comforted  with  the 
reflection  that  the  liggering  parties  whom  I  had  seen  drink- 
ing bottled  beer,  and  singing  songs  on  the  water,  had  not 
caught  a  fish  between  a  score  of  them.  Perhaps  if  I  had  gone 
to  Buckenham  or  Cantley  it  might  have  turned  out  differ- 
ently, for  on  my  return  to  town  a  friend  compared  notes  with 
me,  and  I  learned  that  on  these  very  days  he  caught  four 
pounds  short  of  a  hundred  weight  of  roach  at  the  former 
place,  where  the  tide  flows  faintly  and  where  the  fish  hap- 
pened to  be  on  the  feed. 

"  Patience  that  lasts  three  days,"  think  I,  looking  out  at 
eventide  upon  Yarmouth  market-place,  "has  a  right  to  get 
rusty  at  last ;  and  to-morrow,  behold  !  I  pack  up  my  effects 
and  flee  on  the  wings  of  the  morning." 

Then  it  was  that  there  flashed  into  my  despondent  mind 
the  grand  discovery  recorded  in  the  first  sentence  of  this 
chapter ;  then  it  was  I  started  forthwith  to  Gorleston  to  hold 
conference  with  a  good  motherly  matron  who  owned  a  good 
fatherly  husband,  who,  in  his  turn,  owned  a  good  weatherly 
fishing  vessel  ;  and  thus  it  was  that  I  spent  a  night  with  the 
Herring  Fleet,  to  give  the  salt  water  an  opportunity  of 
courteously  recompensing  me  for  the  deceptions  and 
coquetry  of  the  rivers  and  Broads. 

"  You'll  find  it  rough  accommodation  on  board  the  Sea- 
bird,  sir,  but  we'll  make  you  as  comfortable  as  we  can,''  I 
am  told  next  morning  on  appearing  alongside,  according  to 
arrangement. 

And  what  more  can  I  expect  ?  Beggars,  says  the  pro- 
verb, are  not  precisely  in  the  position  of  choosers,  and  I 
have  begged  from  the  owner  of  the  Seabird  the  privilege  of 
a  passage  during  one  of  her  herring-fishing  excursions.  The 


1 90  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

worthy  owner  was  once  sailor  boy,  sailor  man,  and  skipper 
himself,  and  he  is  too  close  a  stickler  for  the  proprieties  to 
grant  the  cheerful  consent  which  trembles  on  his  lips  until 
he  has  obtained  the  ratifying  approval  of  the  Scabird's 
commander.  It  is  not  every  shipmaster  who  will  be  pestered 
with  a  useless  landlubber  on  his  busy  decks.  But  the  cap- 
tain of  the  Seabird  with  a  broad  smile  speaks  his  welcome, 
and  superadds  the  warning  couched  in  the  above  remark. 

The  herring  season  is  in  full  swing,  for  the  middle  of 
October  has  arrived,  and  in  the  splendidly  furnished  market- 
place, which  visitors  to  Yarmouth  will  well  remember,  the 
poulterers'  stalls  are  laden  with  Michaelmas  geese.  Huge 
baskets  of  ripe  blackberries  are  also  exposed  for  sale,  and 
pyramids  of  delicious  outdoor  grapes  add  their  testimony  to 
the  lateness  of  the  season.  Should  other  witnesses  be  re- 
quired, you  mayjfind  them  on  the  bits  of  cardboard  in  the 
lodging-house  windows  announcing  empty  apartments,  and 
a  consequent  scarcity  of  visitors.  When  these  signs  and 
tokens  appear,  you  may  be  sure  the  herring  season  is  in  full 
swing.  While  the  undoubted  summer  lasts,  Yarmouth  is  one 
of  the  most  popular  resorts  of  middle-class  London,  but 
about  the  period^  when  "  the  hunter's  moon "  begins,  the 
visitors  smell  the  east  wind  and  take  flight.  Then,  about  the 
second  week  in  September,  the  herring  boats  are  ready  for 
the  great  harvest  of  the  sea,  which  is  expected  to  last  till  the 
end  of  November. 

The  Seabird,  therefore,  has  already  seen  a  month's  active 
service.  There  she  lies  in  the  turbid  tidal  river  which  gives 
Yarmouth  its  name,  resting  awhile  that  her  crew  may  enjoy 
a  few  hours'  respite.  Yesterday  she  came  in  with  a  cargo  of 
fish;  to-day  she  is  moored  idle  in  the  bend  of  the  river, 


FRESH  AND  SALT.  1 9 1 

within  gunshot  of  Gorleston  Pier ;  to-morrow  she  will  again 
spread  her  wings  of  dusky  canvas  and  make  sail  for  the  fish- 
ing-ground in  yonder  offing.  Her  little  flag — a  white  square 
on  a  ground  of  scarlet — flutters  jauntily  on  the  mizen-truck. 
The  aft  companionway,  the  hold,  and  the  forecastle,  are 
fastened  down  with  padlock,  and  no  careful  watch  patrols 
the  black,  solidly-patched,  service-worn  deck.  Truly  the 
skipper  indulges  in  no  mere  affectation  when  he  suggests 
that  the  Seabird  is  not  exactly  a  floating  palace. 

To-morrow  comes  with  the  brightest  of  sunshine  and  the 
most  musical  of  Sabbath  bells.  The  crew  arrive  in  twos  and 
threes,  swinging  themselves  down  upon  the  damp  decks, 
and  if  one  or  two  lads  seem  to  be  suffering  from  that  common 
malady  in  these  parts— a  Saturday  night  on  shore — there  is, 
let  it  be  charitably  said,  little  wonder.  For  three  weeks  un- 
til yesterday  the  Seabird  was  hard  at  work  outside  of  the 
harbour,  and  it  would  be  expecting  too  much  from  human 
nature,  especially  human  nature  in  a  sailor's  guernsey,  to 
demand  that  the  strapping  young  able-bodied  fellows,  who 
are  as  yet  not  half  awake,  should  not  make  the  most  of  their 
very  brief  holiday  after  the  manner  of  their  kind. 

At  length  here  we  are  onboard — skipper,  mate,  cook,  crew, 
and  cabin-boy,  eleven  souls,  with  a  stranger  on  what  we  may 
term  the  quarterdeck  to  make  the  complement  a  dozen,  all 
told.  The  Hams  and  Peggottys  of  the  village  lounging  on 
the  quay  above  our  heads  make  facetious  remarks  to  the 
Seabird' 's  crew  touching  their  "  first-class  passenger,"  who 
somehow  manages  to  survive  these  trials,  and  keeps  close 
to  the  skipper  at  the  helm,  while  the  crew,  with  a  lusty 
"  Heave-ho  ! "  chorus,  warp  the  Seabird  out,  and  run  up  the 
big  mainsail  and  jib. 


1 92  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

Favoured  by  wind  and  tide  the  Seabird,  in  a  few  minutes, 
has  ploughed  through  the  yellow  flood  past  Gorleston  pier- 
head and  is  cleaving  blue  water,  crushing,  as  it  were, 
millions  of  diamonds  out  of  her  sun-gilded  track  as  she  goes. 
The  church  bells  make  fainter  and  fainter  melody,  the  low 
shore  land  becomes  lower,  the  people  and  buildings  on  the 
beach  dwindle,  dwarf,  and  fade.  It  is  an  old-fashioned  iron 
handle  which  the  skipper  at  the  helm  grasps,  and  this  sug- 
gests inspection,  which  reveals  that  the  Seabird  herself,  if 
not  old-fashioned,  may  without  defamation  of  character 
be  described  as  a  homely  sort  of  craft.  The  Yarmouth 
herring  fleet  may  have  more  comely  vessels,  but  not  many 
of  heavier  tonnage  than  the  Seabird.  She  was  once  a  smack, 
but  has  been  latterly  converted  into  a  "  Dandy,"  that  is  to 
a  yawl-rigged  concern  of  some  five-and-twenty  tons. 
As  a  rule  the  Yarmouth  herring  boats  are  lugger  rigged,  and 
the  largest  are  not  more  than  five-and-thirty  tons.  . 

It  is  a  day  of  peace  on  land,  but  these  east  coast  toilers 
of  the  sea,  I  soon  discover,  are  wroth  with  a  keen  grievance. 
What  is  uppermost  in  the  mind  will  speedily  be  proclaimed 
by  the  tongue,  and  the  sight  of  a  small  half  decked  fishing 
boat,  of  not  a  third  our  size,  inflames  the  more  inflammable 
of  our  men.  The  grievance  is,  broadly  stated,  the  presence 
of  Scotch  fishermen  in  Yarmouth  and  Lowestoft  waters,  and 
very  bitter  are  the  feelings  of  the  English  on  the  point.  This 
is  a  Scotch  boat  making  for  land,  and  as  she  passes  us  with- 
in half  a  cable's  length,  our  young  men  discharge  a  broadside 
of  jeers  and  taunts  at  her  handful  of  men.  "  Pretty  fellows 
these  Scots  to  brag  that  they  never  profane  the  Sabbath  by 
handling  rope  on  that  day,  and  yet  to  be  skulking  about  like 
this,"  shouts  one.  "  They  can  live  upon  barley-meal  without 


FRESH  AND  SALT.  193 

a  morsel  of  meat  from  week-end  to  week-end,  can  these 
miserable  Sawnies,"  quoth  another.  The  cabin-boy 
facetiously  rubs  himself  against  the  capstan-head  and  blesses 
the  Duke  of  Argyle ;  the  cook — unkindest  cut  of  all — 
flourishes  aloft  the  leg  of  pork  he  is  preparing  in  the 
caboose.  To  these  demonstrations  of  derision  the  Scots 
answer  never  a  word,  but  keep  on  their  way  to  the  river's 
mouth. 

Unfortunately,  the  crew  of  the  Seabird  in  this  matter  but 
represent  the  whole  of  their  brethren  of  the  east  coast,  and 
during  a  week's  stay  in  the  Yarmouth  district  I  find  a  col- 
lision between  English  and  Scotch  fishermen  every  day 
probable.  But  the  strangers  have  a  perfect  right  to  compete 
with  the  Norfolk  men  in  their  own  waters,  and  the  know- 
ledge of  this  adds  bitterness  to  the  feelings  with  which  .the 
local  fishermen  find  the  market  glutted  and  prices  lowered 
by  men  who  come  in  considerable  numbers  from  a  distance. 
The  truth  is  the  Scotchmen's  mode  of  fishing  answers  too 
well  for  the  taste  of  Yarmouth  and  Lowestoft.  Their  canny 
principle  is  small  profits  and  quick  returns.  While  the  local 
luggers  remain  in  the  offing  for  two  or  three  days  the  Scotch- 
men run  in  with  their  fish  every  morning  and  keep  the  fresh 
herring  market  supplied,  sometimes  overmuch.  Hence  the 
complaints  of  low  prices  heard  this  year  on  every  hand.  I 
suspect  too  the  Scots  work  more  economically  than  their 
English  brethren.  They  are  saved  the  expense  of  salt,  and 
their  small  handy  half-decked  boats  and  lighter  style  of  fish- 
ing require  fewer  men.  Finally  the  North  Britons  are 
careful  souls,  whose  fare  is  as  frugal  as  their  perseverance  is 
incessant.  Hence  it  comes  about  that  though  Christmas 
might  bring  good- will,  let  us  hope,  to  the  majority  of  man- 


194  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

kind,  it  will  find  bad  blood  between  these  rival  herring 
fishermen. 

So  much  I  gather  for  later  confirmation,  while  the  Sealird 
increases  the  distance  from  land ;  and  the  men  and  boys,  as 
they  coil  their  ropes,  and  put  things  ship-shape,  dwell  upon 
their  grievance,  and  nurse  it  to  keep  it  warm.  The  mate 
has  a  cluster  of  unoccupied  fishermen  around  him,  and  reads 
something  which  evidently  absorbs  their  attention.  It  is  the 
account  in  a  local  paper  of  an  actual  disturbance  at  Lowes- 
toft  in  which  a  party  of  Scotchmen  had  allowed  themselves 
to  be  drawn  into  a  dispute — a  dilemma  they  generally  avoid 
with  scrupulous  caution.  By-and-by  loud  laughter  con- 
vulses the  little  auditory  \  this  follows  the  reading  of  a  police 
paragraph  narrating  how  a  fisher-boy  had  been  summoned 
by  an  owner  for  remaining  ashore.  The  evidence  showed 
that  the  lad  had  poisoned  his  hand  with  a  fish  and  wa& 
really  unable  to  fulfil  his  contract,  whereupon  the  presiding 
magistrate  had  said — 

"  In  this  case,  willing  as  the  Bench  always  is  to  protect 
the  owners,  we  must  dismiss  the  summons." 

It  is  the  idea  (right  or  wrong)  that  the  Bench  could  ever 
dream  of  doing  otherwise  than  "  pertect  the  owners "  that 
prompts  the  sarcastic  mirth  of  the  Seabird's  merry  men. 

Our  skipper  is  a  fair-complexioned  man.  You  often  meet 
with  this  blonde  type  of  men  and  women  on  the  Yarmouth 
coast,  inclining  you  to  lend  a  serious  ear  to  the  disputed 
tradition  which  teaches  that  Cerdic  the  warrior,  or  some  other 
antique  Saxon,  settled  here  and  planted  a  race  with  hair 
as  yellow  as  the  sands  upon  which  they  landed.  Our 
skipper  is  a  Saxon  in  every  feature,  and  he  stands  beside  the 
helm  ;  but,  unlike  the  gentleman  who  occupied  the  same  posi- 


FRESH  AND  SAL  7\  1 9  j 

tion  on  board  the  schooner  Hesperus,  his  mouth  is  pipeless, 
smoking  being  unentered  upon  his  list  of  small  vices.  He 
goodhumouredly  listens  to  his  subjects  as  they  growl  about 
the  Scotchmen,  smiles,  I  fear  approvingly,  and  with  a  cheery 
hail  gives  the  order — 

"  Now,  my  lads,  bend  nets.     Look  alive,  bo'  ! " 

The  latter  adjuration  is  for  the  cabin  boy,  who  is  dreamily 
employed  in  washing  a  tub  full  of  potatoes  for  the  mid-day 
meal,  and  whose  occasional  glances  towards  the  dim  line  of 
coast  the  watchful  skipper  has  noticed.  The  ''  Bo',"  a  pale- 
faced,  silent  youth,  who  confides  to  me  that  he  doesn't  like 
the  sea,  grins  in  a  melancholy  manner,  and  looks  alive  as 
diiected. 

Bending  the  nets  is  an  initiatory  operation  which  must  not 
be  omitted.  The  bulk  of  the  nets  are  neatly  stowed  away 
in  the  hold,  but  here  lies  a  pile  of  recently  repaired  articles 
that  must  be  tied  together  with  strong  twine.  The  patriarch 
of  the  crew,  acting  as  storekeeper,  assists  the  mate  in 
cutting  the  fastenings  into  requisite  lengths,  another  man 
passes  them  on  to  the  tyers,  and  another  clears  away  the 
work  when  it  is  done.  Thus  early  the  orderly  method  by 
which  alone  herring  fishing  can  be  prosecuted  becomes 
apparent,  and  everything  forthwith  goes  on  with  a  precision 
and  discipline  which,  from  the  rude  appointments  of  the 
boat  and  the  rough-and-ready  manner  of  the  crew,  you 
would  not  have  considered  probable. 

Away  on  the  starboard  bow  some  one  descries  an  object 
in  the  water — a  cask,  perhaps,  or  a  chest.  Our  world,  you 
must  observe,  is  very  limited  in  its  area,  and  it  is  astonish- 
ing what  importance  trifles  assume  in  it.  We  become  quite 
excited  as  the  skipper  luffs  up  and  steers  for  the  prize,  while 


196  If:  1 TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

all  rush  to  the  windward  bulwarks  and  lean  over  the  rail 
with  undisguised  interest.  It  is  only  a  small  rough  box,  but 
it  is  fished  carefully  up,. and  for  the  space  of  half  an  hour  all 
the  probabilities  which  human  ingenuity  could  suggest  as  to 
the  origin  and  history  of  this  bit  of  woodwork  are  advanced. 
Talk  about  an  "  exhaustive  debate/'  you  should  have  heard 
the  crew  of  the  Scalnrd  before  they  had  dismissed  this  six- 
pennyworth  of  white  deal  from  their  hands  and  minds. 

About  the  hour  when  the  people  on  shore  are  walking 
home  from  their  churches  and  chapels  the  Seabird  has 
reached  the  fishing- ground,  and  has  taken  her  station  as  one 
of  a  very  numerous  family.  The  sun  has  become  obscured, 
the  sea  rises  with  the  wind,  and  the  skipper  prophesies  "  a 
breeze."  To  the  crew  this  is  a  matter  of  positive  indif- 
ference. They  must  remain  here  until  a  certain  quantity  of 
herrings  are  in  the  hold — it  may  be  one  day,  it  may  be 
three — but  the  weather  is  a  consideration  which  never 
troubles  them.  Since  the  sun  was  beclouded  we  can  see 
nothing  of  land,  but  ships  of  all  sizes  are  continually  passing? 
proceeding  up  or  down  with  an  adverse  wind. 

The  Seabird ^  it  appears,  will  drive  with  the  tide  all  night, 
and  I  make  apparently  careless,  but  really  anxious,  inquiries 
with  the  view  of  ascertaining  what  the  chances  are  of  being 
''collided."  Are  herring  boats  ever  rundown?  Oh,  yes, 
run  down  sometimes.  A  lugger,  for  example,  was  cut  in 
two  last  year — no,  the  year  before — and  seven  out  of  eight 
men  went  to  "  the  locker."  This  is  the  way  in  which  death 
by  drowning  is  spoken  of — very  familiar,  it  struck  me,  as 
well  as  slightly  disrespectful  to  the  Davy  Jones  commonly 
associated  with  the  metaphor. 

The  person  who  was  facetiously  described  by  the  shorelings 


FRESH  AND  SALT.  197 

as  the  "first-class  passenger"  soon  makes  a  disagreeable 
discovery.  Deeming  himself  a  very  good  sailor,  he  has 
gone  to  some  trouble  to  enter  upon  this  expedition ; 
solely  in  the  expectation,  however,  of  being  perpetually 
under  sail.  Movement  is  life.  Movement  on  the  sea, 
so  long  as  it  is  decidedly  progressive,  is  life  in  a  not  un- 
pleasant form.  Now  I  hear  the  order  given  to  take  in  sail, 
and  am  informed  that  for  the  next  twelve  or  eighteen 
hours  the  Seabird  will  drilt  with  the  flood — perhaps  a  dozen 
miles  north  and  then  a  dozen  miles  back  again  ;  but  always 
and  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  the  waves. 

Verily  circumstances  alter  cases.  The  billows  which, 
while  we  were  careering  seawards  with  a  stiff  breeze  on  the 
beam,  dashed  over  the  bows,  were  welcome  and  delicious  to 
the  Seabird ;  and  to  the  passenger  who,  having  nothing 
else  to  do,  was  able  to  enjoy  the  motion.  To  be  tossed  like 
a  balk  of  timber  on  the  said  billows,  and  yet  be  like  the 
caged  squirrel  whose  perpetual  wanderings  never  raise  him 
an  inch  higher,  is  a  vastly  different  thing.  Yet  this  is 
the  prospect ;  and  I  find  out,  when  too  late,  that  the 
trawler,  and  not  the  herring  boat,  should  have  been  the 
object  of  my  wooing.  However,  there  is  no  help  for  it ; 
out  here  there  is  no  shore  boat  to  hail. 

The  small  sails  are  taken  in,  and  the  topmast  struck. 
The  mainsail  follows,  and,  as  if  to  remove  all  hope,  the 
mainmast  is  lowered  backwards,  as  the  river  steamers  lower 
their  funnels  when  passing  under  a  bridge.  The  spar  drops 
into  a  crutch  upheld  by  a  stout  piece  of  timber  about  twelve 
feet  long,  fitted  into  the  deck,  somewhere  about  the  centre 
of  the  vessel.  Brought  for  the  moment  broadside  to  the 
waves,  the  Seabird  wallows  and  rolls  furiously  and  helplessly, 


198  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

until  she  is,  by  the  small  sail  on  the  mizenmast,  brought  up 
to  the  wind.  The  rolling  then  ceases,  but  there  supervenes 
a  very  lively  game  of  pitch  and  toss,  which  threatens  to 
become  livelier  as  time  wears  on.  This,  then,  is  to  be  our 
condition  for  the  night ;  and  the  only  comfort  we  can  snatch 
is  that  there  are  fully  half  a  hundred  boats  in  similar  plight 
within  ken,  looking  for  all  the  world  like  disabled  craft 
whose  spars  have  been  carried  away  in  a  hurricane.  The 
Seabird  is  now  technically  "  driving  ";  the  movement,  if  any, 
being  astern. 

Mugs  of  hot  tea,  solid  ship's  biscuit,  and,  when  called  for 
by  an  epicurean  member  .of  the  crew,  a  herring  fried  very 
brown  to  cover  it,  having  been  handed  round,  the  word  is 
given  to  "  shoot  nets."  Every  member  of  the  crew  but 
the  cook  and  cabin  boy  engages  in  this  work,  which  requires 
care  and  occupies  considerable  time.  The  dark  brown  nets 
lie  stowed  away  in  the  hold,  and  the  first  work  is  to  bring 
them  to  light. 

It  will  simplify  the  description  to  explain  at  once  that  the 
drift  net  is  nothing  more  than  a  wall  of  netting  extending 
from  the  bows  of  the  boat  to  a  distance  of  about  two  miles, 
sunk  by  means  of  a  cable  nine  or  ten  yards  deep,  and  kept 
near  the  surface  by  small  kegs  called  <;  bowls "  and  by  a 
plentiful  employment  of  large  corks  along  the  upper  part  of 
the  net.  The  herrings  swim  in  shoals,  run  their  unsuspect- 
ing heads  into  the  net  wall,  and  become  entangled  in%  the 
meshes.  This,  however,  is  anticipating.  The  nets,  or  to  be 
strictly  accurate,  the  series  of  nets,  tied  together  in 
an  unbroken  length  as  before  explained,  are  not  yet 
shot. 

The  skipper  and  three  "  hands  "  receive  the  nets,  which 


FRESH  AND  SALT.  199 

glide  freely  over  a  roller  from  the  hold  ;  a  lad  takes  up  the 
"  seizing,"  a  short  length  of  rope  attached  to  every  thirty 
yards  of  net,  and  walks  with  it  to  the  bows,  delivering  it  to 
a  man  who  is  paying  out  the  stout  cable,  which,  in  addition 
to  its  function  of  keeping  the  bottom  line  of  the  nets  fairly 
sunk,  sustains  the  frail  fabric  as  a  connected  whole.  Some- 
times vessels  passing  across  the  line  of  nets  tear  them 
asunder,  and  but  for  the  cable  the  dissevered  portion — 
perhaps  a  mile  in  length — would  be  destroyed.  A  trusty 
man  is  therefore  placed  in  the  bows  to  affix  the  seizing  to 
the  cable  with  thoroughness. 

As  the  Seabird  drives  astern  and  the  shooting  proceeds 
the  bowls  ride  ahead  of  us  like  huge  black  floats,  growing 
smaller  and  smaller  until  they  are  mere  spots  on  the  wave. 
Already,  before  the  nets  are  fully  shot,  three  brigs,  a  French 
fishing  smack,  and  a  barque  reaching  over  towards  land, 
pass  across  our  line,  doing  more  or  less  damage,  one  may 
be  sure.  The  process  of  shooting  keeps  all  hands  in  action 
for  a  couple  of  hours,  and  then,  sitting  as  best  they  may  on 
deck,  with  a  service  that  gives  little  trouble  and  appetites 
that  require  no  caviare,  the  men  dine.  Potatoes  (such  red 
kidneys  the  mate,  who  had  grown  them  in  his  garden,  swears 
never  were  before)  cooked  in  their  jackets,  a  grand  leg  of 
pork  boiled  to  a  turn,  pudding,  alias  "  duff,"  biscuit  hard 
.and  wholesome,  and  a  petit  verre  of  highly  perfumed  Jamaica 
rum,  constitute  the  sole  bill  of  fare.  Each  man  is  his  own 
carver,  waiter,  toastmaster,  and  speechmaker,  and  the  music 
of  the  spheres  leaves  nothing  to  be  desired  in  the  way  of 
orchestral  accompaniment. 

"  Nightfall  on  the  sea  "  is  not  a  bad  notion  for  a  warm 
.drawing-room,  brightly  lighted,  and  with  the  soft  presence 


200  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

of  women  to  give  savour  to  the  salt  of  home.  I  could  in 
this  paragraph  draw  a  vivid  portrait  of  a  being  who  watches 
the  footsteps  of  nightfall  one  after  another  upon  the  water 
on  a  Sunday  evening  about  four-and-twenty  miles  east  of 
Yarmouth,  with  a  dismal  sense  of  the  falsity  of  poetical 
pictures  of  things  pertaining  to  the  maritime  profession. 
He  sits  shivering  and  ill  at  ease,  overcome  by  qualms  with 
which  conscience  has  nothing  to  do ;  a  limp  object  on  a 
sail  behind  the  tiller  handle,  feebly  noticing  that  the  bow  of 
the  vessel  is  sometimes  high  in  the  air  and  the  next  moment 
down  at  the  end  of  a  slippery  incline.  Through  his  heavy 
head  scraps  of  sea  balladry  are  blown  like  flakes  of  foam  by 
the  blast.  He  vows  never  again  to  perpetuate  the  heresy 
contained  in  the  fiction,  "  Rock'd  in  the  cradle  of  the  deep." 
He  scoffs  at  the  bard  who  found  something  to  sing  about  in 
"  the  odour  of  brine  from  the  ocean."  He  grins  with  ghastly 
expression  when,  noticing  the  lowered  mainmast,  the  pretty 
words,  "  he  climbs  the  mast  to  feast  his  eyes  once  more," 
are  shaken  uppermost.  He  is  especially  hurt  to  think  that 
even  the  oblivion  of  actual  sea-sickness  is  denied  him.  Such 
a  sketch  I  might  limn  for  the  amusement  of  the  callous ; 
but  I  forbear. 

The  herrings  have  not  behaved  as  we  had  fondly  hoped. 
At  eight  o'clock  a  few  fathoms  of  our  two  miles  of  net  wall 
are  hauled  in,  just  as  the  moon  struggles  out  of  a  bank  of 
clouds,  but  there  is  no  encouragement  to  proceed  further. 
Then  the  men  disappear  down  the  aperture  of  two  feet 
square  into  the  small  dark  closet  around  which  their  berths 
are  hidden.  The  skipper,  kind  and  thoughtful  as  a  mother 
to  his  "  first-class  passenger,"  insists  upon  offering  him  the 
use  of  his  bunk,  and  spreads  him  a  brand  new  Union  Jack 


FRESH  AND  SALT.  201 

for  blanket.  On  deck  the  two  lights  prescribed  by  law  have 
been  hoisted  on  the  mizen-stay,  and  the  watch  has  been  set 
The  two  lanterns  are  a  signal  to  trawlers  and  passing  vessels 
that  the  herring  fishermen  are  out,  and  would  prefer  the  gift 
of  a  wide  berth,  lest  their  nets  should  be  broken.  The  sea 
seems  alive  with  double  warnings,  and  from  some  of  the 
boats  turpentine  lights — yclept  "  flare  ups  " — are  perpetually 
flashed. 

Pitching  and  driving,  you  feel  a  queer  sensation  when  a 
full-rigged  ship,  phantom-like,  seems  to  be  bearing  down 
upon  you,  and  somehow  all  the  stories  of  collision  you  have 
heard,  read,  or  written,  crowd  in  procession  through  your 
mind,  as  you  earnestly  keep  your  eye  on  the  approaching 
monster,  resolving,  should  the  worst  come  to  the  worst,  to 
hoist  yourself  on  board  the  destroyer  by  the  bowsprit 
rigging.  The  monster  passes  half  a  mile  ahead  ;  but  only 
think  what  might  have  happened.  Think  of  the  Northfleet ! 
And  so  on. 

The  fishermen  sailors  sleep  in  their  clothes,  and  are  con- 
tented with  their  lot.  Theirs  is  a  co-operative  system ;  they 
are  paid  by  results.  The  more  fish  the  more  pay.  Called 
up  on  deck  at  twelve,  and  again  at  two  o'clock,  they  rub 
their  eyes  and  go,  and  return  again  if  they  are  not  immediately 
wanted.  At  four  o'clock,  however,  a  genuine  cry  rings  down 
into  the  darkness. 

"  Haul  ho,  boys  !     Haul  ho  ! " 

Now  we  turn  out  in  earnest,  for  "  Haul  ho  ! "  means 
herrings,  and  who  knows  but  that  it  may  mean  herrings  in 
such  quantities  that  to-morrow,  instead  of  pitching  and 
driving  tediously,  we  may  be  able  to  hurry  to  harbour? 
The  men  encase  themselves  from  head  to  foot  in  oilskin, 


202  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

and  in  the  cold  starlight  prepare  to  haul  in  their  two  miles 
of  netting. 

The  cable,  or  warp  as  the  men  term  it,  is  brought  in  by 
the  capstan  worked  in  the  old-fashioned  manner  with  bars. 
Some  of  the  Boulogne  boats  have  small  steam-engines  to  do 
this  work,  which  requires  the  incessant  labour  of  four  or  five 
hands  until  the  hauling  is  at  an  end.  To  the  landlubber 
prone  upon  the  flag  of  his  country  in  the  skipper's  bunk, 
the  tramp,  tramp  of  the  men  on  their  ceaseless  round  is  as 
the  march  of  an  army,  and  it  is  their  preliminary  circuits  that 
have  recalled  him  from  an  uneasy  dreamland,  and  brought 
him  into  the  keen  morning  air  to  watch  his  shipmates  deal 
with  the  herring.  Two  men  stand  about  six  feet  apart  in 
the  middle  of  the  boat  on  the  starboard  side  to  haul  the  net 
upon  deck.  At  the  bow  the  sailor  who  was  perched  there 
in  the  afternoon  is  perched  there  again  to  unfasten  the  seiz- 
ings he  had  then  tied  to  the  warp. 

A  man  takes  his  post  in  the  hold  to  stow  away  into  the 
smallest  compass,  and  in  regular  layers,  the  nets  with  bowls 
attached.  The  other  men  are  "  scudders,"  which,  being  in- 
terpreted, signifies  that  they  seize  the  net  as  it  is  passed  over 
the  bulwarks,  and  by  violently  shaking  it,  jerk  the  fish  out 
of  the  meshes.  In  a  little  while  we  are  all  speckled  with 
scales,  like  harlequins  in  silver  mail ;  there  are  scales  every- 
where, high  and  low ;  scales  in  your  beard  and  scales  in 
your  pocket — ay,  in  the  tobacco-pouch  in  your  pocket. 

Thus  the  herrings  are  scudded  on  the  deck  for  the  space  of 
five  hours,  and  when  the  neighbourhood  is  too  much 
cumbered  with  fish,  they  are  shovelled  into  a  separate  part 
of  the  hold  through  holes  formed  for  the  purpose.  The  fish 
are  mostly  exhausted  from  their  struggles  to  be  released  from 


FRESH  AND  SALT.  203 

the  net,  and  many  of  them  never  move  after  they  are  shaken 
from  the  toils.  Others,  on  the  contrary,  leap  about  the  deck 
vigorously ;  but  it  is  soon  over.  The  proverb  "  dead  as  a 
herring  "  seems  to  cast  a  reflection  upon  the  vital  powers  of 
this  little  fish,  and  there  is  ground  for  it.  Herrings  speedily 
yield  up  the  ghost  when  taken  out  of  the  water.  They  are 
most  exquisitely  tinted  at  first  with  a  hue  of  faint  rose-pink, 
but  the  mere  contact  of  one  herring  with  another  is  enough 
to  strip  it  of  its  beautiful  vesture.  The  majority  are  caught 
by  the  gills ;  a  few,  I  notice,  have  thrust  themselves  more 
than  a  third  of  their  length  through  the  mesh,  and  they  re- 
tain the  impression  of  the  cord  in  a  girdle  cut  round  the 
body,  though  it  does  not  fracture  the  skin.  The  position  of 
the  bulk  of  the  fish  on  one  side  of  the  net  shows  which  way 
the  shoal  moved,  and  the  common  direction  they  took.  A 
few  now  and  then  have  been  captured  while  swimming  from 
an  opposite  quarter,  waifs  and  strays  probably.  Here  comes 
a  cod  caught  somehow  in  the  gills,  and  already  drowned ; 
for  him  and  his  kindred  a  long-handled  landing  net  is  kept 
near.  From  first  to  last  the  nets  bring  up  a  dozen  mackerel 
and  half  as  many  whiting. 

The  other  boats  near  us  are  hauling  in  concert,  and  over 
the  line  of  nets  of  a  lugger  that  two  days  later,  alas  !  is 
doomed  to  founder  in  the  tempest,  whose  vanguard  gusts  are 
sweeping  the  Seabird's  decks,  a  horde  of  buccaneer  fowl, 
gannets,  gulls,  and  what  not,  are  hovering,  dragging  the  nets 
out  of  water,  and  robbing  the  fishermen  of  their  hardly 
won  spoil.  The  sun  rises  on  the  sails  of  many  of  the  herring 
fleet  homeward  bound.  Some  of  them  have  been  driving 
out  here  for  two  or  three  days,  and  are  returning  with  fewer 
fish  than  have  fallen  to  our  share  in  one  night.  It  is  still 


2  04  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

undecided  whether  the  Seabird  shall  take  flight  or  linger 
through  another  day  and  night.  There  is  nothing  to  complain 
of  in  the  "  take,"  but  every  man  and  boy  can  remember  when, 
in  very  exceptional  hauls,  ten  times  the  quantity  have  been 
taken.  Not  this  year,  however.  They  all  agree  that  the 
good  old  times  have  gone,  and  that  the  herrings  are  neither 
so  numerous  nor  so  prime  as  they  used  to  be.  Several  boats 
are  mentioned,  while  the  herrings  are  being  shaken  out  of 
the  nets  and  the  scales  are  discharged  around  in  volleys, 
which  have  earned  hundreds  of  pounds  less  than  in  the 
previous  year. 

After  five  hours  of  hard  work  the  last  bowl  is  seen  tossing 
on  the  crest  of  the  waves  and  disappearing  in  the  troughs  ; 
the  skipper  takes  the  hatch  from  the  well  in  which  the  fish 
are  stored,  pronounces  the  haul  to  be  "a  last"- 
nominally  10,000,  but  actually  13,200  fish — and  laconically 
orders  the  crew  to  make  preparations  for  getting  under 
weigh.  A  wise  skipper  this  !  Instead  of  smothering  his 
dainty  herrings  with  salt,  as  many  of  his  compeers  are  doing, 
and  staying  for  another  chance,  he  determines  to  hie  for  port 
and  save  the  fresh  herring  market. 

A  rude,  laborious  life  my  comrades  of  the  Seabird  must 
have.  In  all  weathers,  and  for  nine  months  in  the  year,  they 
pursue  the  double  avocations  of  sailor  and  fisherman  ;  fisher- 
men first,  perhaps,  and  sailors  afterwards.  At  times  a  gale 
suddenly  rises  before  the  hauling  begins,  and  it  is  a  point  of 
honour  with  the  east  coast  fishermen  never  to  forsake  the 
nets.  They  make  everything  snug,  and  so  long  as  the  craft 
can  be  kept  head  to  wind  they  ride  out  the  storm,  buffeted 
and  tossed,  while  we  at  our  firesides  little  wot  of  their  hard- 
ships and  perils.  The  herring  season  over,  the  Seabird,  for 


FRESH  AND  SALT.  205 

-example,  becomes  a  trawler,  and  scours  the  North  Sea  in  the 
teeth  of  the  winter  weather.  Every  available  inch  of  space 
below  decks  is  required  for  stowage,  and  there  is  scarcely 
room  for  comfort.  The  trawlers  remain  on  their  distant 
fishing  grounds  for  weeks  together,  fast  cutters  visiting  them 
•daily  to  convey  the  fish  to  shore ;  and  many  a  fisherman  is 
washed  overboard  during  the  transfer  of  the  fish  to  the 
•carrier  smack. 

The  Seabird  has  heels  this  morning  as  she  heads  for  land. 
Each  added  sail  causes  her  to  throb  with  delight ;  the  crew, 
after  their  long  spell  of  toil,  are  light-hearted  too,  and  even 
the  forlorn  object  who  sat  on  the  sail  abaft  the  tiller  handle  last 
•night  shares  in  the  prevailing  gaiety.  "  Homeward  bound  " 
after  all  is  a  better  tune  than  "  Nightfall  on  the  sea."  There 
must  be  no  stoppage  till  the  Seabird  ranges  alongside  Yar- 
mouth fish  wharf;  the  herrings  must  be  sold  at  Billingsgate 
before  the  town  is  fairly  astir  to-morrow  morning,  and  the 
Seabird  to-night  must  once  more  shoot  her  nets  a  score  of 
miles  at  sea.  At  the  mouth  of  the  river  a  tug  answers  our 
signal ;  takes  two  other  new  arrivals  in  tow,  and  drags  us 
with  a  rush  past  Gorleston  on  the  one  side  and  South  Denes 
on  the  other,  to  the  wharf. 

Here  the  well-known  scenes  are  repeated.  The  fish  are 
taken  away  in  "  swills,"  placed  on  the  wharf,  and  sold  by 
auction.  The  market  is  somewhat  glutted  to-day,  and  it  is 
only  after  a  remonstrance  from  the  salesman  that  the  herrings 
are  disposed  of  at  five  guineas  per  last.  Prices  are  very 
fluctuating  in  this  bustling  market ;  in  the  early  part  of  the 
season  when  fish  were  scarce  a  small  cargo  was  sold  at 
^£40  the  last ;  not  many  weeks  since  it  was  impossible  to 
.coax  the  buyers  into  giving  more  than  £2  53.  Only  this 


206  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

morning   the    first-comers    obtained  as  much  as  ;£io  per 
last. 

The  Seabirdi  with  her  genial  skipper  and  jolly  crew,  having 
had  the  last  herring  emptied  into  the  "  swill,"  is  tugged  out 
into  the  stream,  and  from  the  pier  where  the  boys  are  haul- 
ing up  small  codlings  and  whiting,  an  hour  or  two  before 
sunset  I  can  spy  afar  off  the  little  flag  with  a  white  centre 
and  red  ground  voyaging  in  company  with  other  boats,  two 
at  least  of  which  will  nevermore  return  to  land. 


PRACTICAL  NOTES  ON  THE  NORFOLK  BROADS. 

These  notes  I  will  endeavour  to  invest  with  all  the  value 
of  a  lady's  postscript,  in  order  to  make  amends  for  any  un- 
kind thoughts  into  which  I  have  been,  by  ill-luck,  betrayed 
against  the  East  Anglian  Broads.  Taken  at  the  proper 
time  these  singular  sheets  of  water  brim  over  with  coarse 
sport  to  the  angler ;  I  say  taken  at  the  proper  time,  because 
unless  this  proviso  be  considered  it  will  be  waste  labour 
indeed  to  visit  them.  Thus,  you  hear  wondrous  stories  of 
bream  capture,  yet  take  no  note  of  the  month  when  it 
happened.  The  stories  referred  to  July,  and  you  are 
disgusted  because  in  October  you  fail  to  prick  a  fish.  The 
same  experience  will  be  yours  if  you  try  for  pike  before 
winter.  There  is  a  time  for  all  things,  good  reader,  and  the 
time  for  bream  in  the  Norfolk  Broads  is  July  and  August, 
and  as  much  of  September  as  the  sun  vouchsafes  to  you ; 
while  the  time  for  jack  is— December  good,  January 
better,  February  best. 

How  many  Broads  there  may  be  in  Suffolk  and  Norfolk 
I  am  not  prepared  to  say,  but  with  a  map  spread  out  before 


FRESH  AND  SALT.  207 

me  I  once  ticked  off  four-and-tvventy  without  having 
exhausted  the  two  counties.  The  largest  Broads  are 
Surlingham,  Rockland,  Breydon,  Filby,  Ormesby,  Rollesby, 
Hickling,  Barton,  Irstead,  .and  Wroxham.  I  have  spent 
pleasant  days  at  Ormesby,  where  you  are  quite  out  of  the 
pale  of  civilisation.  Attached  to  the  little  inn  there  is  a 
rare  old-fashioned  flower  garden  and  a  pretty  approach  to 
the  lake ;  generally,  however,  the  scenery  of  the  Broads 
partakes  of  the  flatness,  and  therefore  prosiness  of  the 
county.  Fritton  decoy,  in  another  direction,  is  the  most 
picturesque  piece  of  water,  almost  entirely  surrounded  by 
lofty  trees ;  the  water  is  unpleasant,  being  of  a  greenish 
tinge,  by  which  reason  the  fish,  though  numerous,  are  flabby 
and  uninviting.  One  afternoon  a  party  of  three  of  us  were 
perpetually  pestered  by  small  eels  and  popes  until  the 
nuisance  was  beyond  bearing.  The  eels  spoiled  our  tackle 
and  desecrated  the  seats  of  the  boat ;  the  ruffs  came  up 
with  their  goggle  eyes,  veritable  goblins  from  the  vasty  deep, 
and  between  them  they  beat  us  off  the  field. 

Take  your  own  tackle  when  you  go  into  Norfolk,  and 
scoured  baits  also.  At  the  Broads  (I  was  on  the  point  of 
writing  broad  sides)  the  gardeners  or  servant  boys  will 
give  you  buckets  full  of  meal  and  brewers'  grains  for  ground 
bait,  and  when  the  crops  do  not  claim  their  first  care,  you 
may  obtain  the  services  of  a  rower.  The  latter,  except 
for  pike-fishing,  is  a  superfluity,  inasmuch  as  you  bring  up 
your  boat  at  given  pitches — generally  beds  of  bulrush — 
and  remain  there.  Plain  homely  meat  and  drink  will  be 
your  fare  at  the  modest  hostelries,  bushel  baskets  will  be 
lent  you  for  the  fish,  and  the  native  innkeepers  have  not  yet 
learnt  the  fashionable  art  of  extortion. 


2o8  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

Many  of  the  Broads,  all  the  best  ones  indeed,  are,  though 
private  property,  accessible  to  a  decent  sportsman.  Bream, 
pike,  and  perch  are  still  their  most  numerous  fish ;  the 
roach,  as  might  be  expected,  are  vastly  inferior  to  their 
brethren  of  even  such  muddy  rivers  as  you  find  at  Reedham, 
Cantley,  and  Buckenham.  In  one  of  the  Norwich  tackle- 
shops  I  saw  a  stuffed  bream  of  9-J-lb.,  the  largest  I  ever 
heard  of;  in  a  Yarmouth  public-house  I  caught  sight, 
through  the  open  door,  of  a  brace  of  pike  in  a  glass  case, 
each  of  which  had  turned  the  scale  at  three-and-twenty 
pounds  when  taken  from  the  Broads.  The  stranger  will  act 
wisely  if  he  make  inquiries  of  some  practical  person — there 
are  many  such  in  Yarmouth,  Norwich,  and  Lowestoft,  the  ' 
three  centres  from  which  the  Broads  must  be  "  tapped  "- 
before  setting  forth  upon  his' expedition. 

If  you  are  fond  of  ornithology  as  a  science,  or  wild-fowl 
as  an  object  of  sport,  the  Norfolk  and  Suffolk  Broads  offer 
a  fruitful  field  of  exploration.  There  are  snipe  on  the 
marshes,  widgeon,  teal,  coot,  duck,  and  geese  in  their 
season;  the  heron  revels  upon  the  flat  oozy  shores,  the 
reedsparrow  twitters  in  the  sedges,  and  if  there  are  any 
bitterns  left  in  the  land  here  they  will  be. 

As  for  eels  the  countrymen  would  not  think  of  tying  less 
than  thirty  or  forty  hooks  baited  with  small  fish  on  their 
night-lines,  and  are  to  their  notion  scurvily  used  by  Dame 
Fortune  if  more  than  a  third  of  that  number  are  non-pro- 
ductive. The  bottoms  of  the  Broads  with  one  or  two 
exceptions  are  muddy — the  very  ground  for  an  eel;  the 
exceptions  are  due  to  gravel,  and  Hickling  Broad,  I  believe, 
is  one  of  them. 

These  Broads  are  largely  used  by  holiday  parties  in  the 


FRESH  AND  SALT.  209 

summer  months  ;  the  experienced  sportsman  has  no  business 
there  with  rod  and  gun  till  winter,  and  even  then  he  will  be 
fortunate  if  he  can  realise  anything  like  the  glowing  accounts 
given  of  bygone  years: 


CHAPTER  X. 

HOOKED  FOUL. 

"  Give  me  mine  angle.     We'll  to  the  river;  there 
My  music  playing  far  off,  I  will  betray 
Tawny  finn'd  fishes ;  my  bended  hook  shall  pierce 
Their  shining  jaws." 

IT  was  an  unmistakably  blank  day  yonder  for  the  entire 
company,  as  somehow  it  always  happens  to  be  when  you 
expect  unusual  luck,  and  have  every  reason  for  believing  it 
will  fall  to  your  lot. 

"  Come  early,"  the  young  Squire  wrote ;  "  the  stream  is 
alive  with  trout,  the  c'rect  fly  is  on,  and  there's  something 
prime  in  the  cellar,  to  say  nothing  of  duck  and  green  peas  at 
the  back  of  the  stables.  Further,  the  wife  says  you  are  to 
come,  and  that  should  settle  it ;  I  suppose  you  had  better 

bring  B ,  though  he  scarcely  knows  a  fish  from  a  fiddle, 

and  must  be  handed  over  to  the  women-folk." 

We  accordingly  went,  and  B ,  I  must  say,  had  the 

laugh  of  us.  A  bitter  east  wind  set  in  within  an  hour  of 
our  arrival  at  the  Squire's  place,  and  early  in  the  afternoon 
we  gave  up  angling,  nor  entertained  so  much  as  a  forlorn 
hope  of  evening  chances.  We  stuck  the  rods  into  the  lawn, 
and  formed  ourselves  into  a  select  committee  to  inquire  into 
the  uses  of  hock  and  seltzer.  The  young  Squire  also  told 
us  a  little  story. 


HOOKED  FOUL.  211 

"  Some  prefer  one  method  and  some  another,"  he  said  to 
me  j  "  but  for  real  honest  sport-yielding  pike-fishing,  depend 
upon  it  there  is  nothing  like  a  neat  spinning-flight. 

"  Come,  come ;  don't  shrug  your  shoulders  ! "  he  observed 
to  the  prosaic  B ,  who  had  resigned  himself  to  the  inflic- 
tion without  concealing  his  feelings. 

"  I  know  too  well  how  terrible  a  bore  an  angler  is  to  an 
unsympathetic  town  man  like  you,  who  have  not  a  soul  above 
a  brief-bag,  and  who  would  not  know  a  gudgeon  from  a 
barbel.  Bless  you  !  I  should  disdain  to  waste  a  delicious 
story  of  rises,  runs,  bites,  strikes,  and  gaffings,  upon  the  like 
of  you.  My  pearls  are  reserved  for  those  who  will  not  turn 
about  and  rend  me.  Still,  as  you  are  in  my  den,  and  as  you 
have  been  kind  enough  to  notice  my  rod-rack,  and  the  rest 
of  my  fishing  gear  yonder  — which  you  may  notice  is  in 
apple-pie  order,  ready  for  immediate  use — I  will  trouble  you 
to  listen  to  one  reason  of  my  partiality  for  the  spinning- 
flight. 

"  Let  me  see,  it  was — Ah  !  never  mind  when  it  happened. 
It  was  not  this  year,  nor  last,  nor  the  year  before  that. 
Enough  that  I  begin  with  a  certain  fresh  autumn  morning. 
The  crunch  of  the  dogcart  wheels  on  the  gravel  beneath  my 
bed-room  window  reminded  me  that  I  had  overslept  myself, 
and  that  there  would  be  some  one  outside  cooling  his  heels, 
unless  he  was  much  altered  since  I  had  seen  him  last,  in 
anything  but  a  Christian  frame  of  mind.  My  oversleeping 
was  indulged  in  at  the  cost  of  considerable  discomfort,  in- 
asmuch as  when  we  had  sped  merrily  over  a  couple  of  the 
ten  miles  before  us,  I  discovered  that  neither  gaff-hook  nor 
landing  net  had  been  packed  up. 

"  You  call  that  a  trifle  do  you  ?  A  trifle  !  But,  of  course, 

p  2 


2 1 2  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

it  is  useless  to  argue  with  you.  Out  of  such  trifles  great 
what-is-it's  spring,  if  your  favourite  poet  is  to  be  believed. 

"Garstanger  Park  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  because 
one  of  the  best  timbered  in  the  country.  Had  that  October 
day  on  Viscount  Garstanger's  lake  been  a  blank  as  to  fish, 
I  should  have  deemed  the  se'venty-mile  trip  fiom  town,  the 
early  rising  on  a  raw  morning,  and  the  journey  across  country 
more  than  compensated  for  by  the  russet  glory  of  the  autumn- 
tinted  woods,  the  exquisite  proportions  of  the  shrubberies,, 
the  artistic  arrangement  of  lawn  and  garden,  the  wide  pro- 
spects caught  through  the  beeches  on  the  knolls,  the  avenues 
of  patriarch  trees,  the  change  of  landscape  at  every  curve  of 
the  path,  and  the  keen  clear  atmosphere  which  you  gulped 
rather  than  breathed. 

"  This  kind  of  scenery  puts  you  into  good  humour,  and 
screws  up  any  slack  strings  of  poetry  or  sentiment  there  may 
be  in  you.  It  never  took  me  so  long  before  to  put  my  rod 
together,  partly  because  of  the  beautiful  leaf-tints  reflected 
in  the  lake,  but  chiefly  because,  making  ready  to  enter  one 
of  the  two  punts  which  belonged  to  the  boat-house,  I  saw  a 
young  lady.  She  might  be  handsome  or  she  might  not ;, 
that  I  could  not  determine  until  she  changed  her  position. 
It  was  her  compact,  flexible  figure,  and  peculiar  costume, 
that  first  attracted  my  notice.  I  was  conscious,  too,  of  a 
freedom  of  attitude  that  under  any  other  circumstances 
would  have  been  displeasing.  She  stood  some  distance  offr 
her  back  towards  me,  with  one  foot  on  the  stern-board  of 
the  punt,  and  was  postured  like  an  athlete,  as,  turning 
slightly  away  from  the  lake,  with  rod  over  her  shoulder,  she- 
winched  up  the  loosened  coils  of  a  fishing-line. 

"  The  boobiest  of  fellows  lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  punt,, 


HOOKED  FOUL.  213 

reading  one  of  Dumas'  novels — a  shilling  edition.  lie 
never  offered  to  assist  his  companion.  I  would  have  said 
t  fair '  companion,  according  to  the  orthodox  method,  but  I 
had  not,  so  far,  discovered  whether  she  was  fair  or  dark. 
The  foot,  so  firmly  planted  on  the  punt,  was  the  small  trim 
foot  which,  as  a  rule,  belongs  to  dark  beauties ;  the  hair, 
though  dark,  was  not  black,  and  it  was  free  from  any 
artificial  monstrosity.  Dress  ?  I  fear  you  have  me  there  : 
never  was  there  a  worse  describer  of  millinery  than  your 
humble  servant.  To  put  it  roughly,  I  should  say  the  chief 
article  of  that  costume  was  a  well-built  shooting-jacket  of 
grey  cloth.  It  was  of  a  perfectly  original  design,  and  im- 
pressed you  as  being  fitted  up  with  an  infinity  of  pockets 
and  enclosing  with  sensible  tightness  a  charming,  round, 
lithe  figure.  I  forget  the  skirts,  but  they  were  there. 

"It  was  no  use  coughing  or  making  a  violent  noise  with 
the  oars  strapped  to  our  own  punt :  she  would  not  look 
round,  or  satisfy  my  curiosity  in  any  degree.  The  boobiest 
of  fellows  lazily  looked  across,  lazily  screwed  his  glass  into 
his  eye,  and  lazily  made  an  observation  to  his  companion, 
who,  to  do  her  justice,  appeared  not  to  take  the  slightest 
notice  of  him. 

"Who  were  they?  What  were  they?  Which  was  the 
angler?  I  had,  in  former  times,  seen  ladies  fishing  for  the 
lively  perch,  ay,  and  whipping  a  dainty  little  stream  with  a 
dainty  little  fly-rod  for  dainty  little  trout,  but  the  boldest  of 
the  lady  anglers  whom  it  haoSbeen  my  pleasure  to  know 
had  certainly  drawn  a  line  at  the  '  mighty  luce.' 

"  Doubtless  this  was  a  good-natured  damsel,  encouraging 
that  boobiest  of  fellows  in  his  abominable  idleness,  by 
arranging  his  tackle  for  him.  He  had  kindled  a  cigar  by 


2 1 4  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

the  time  she  had  finished  the  winching-up  process,  but  he 
was  in  no  hurry  to  move  from  his  lair.  He  allowed  her  to 
deposit  the  rod  in  the  punt,  to  step  aboard  without  assist- 
ance, and,  by  all  that  was  unworthy  !  to  cast  off  the  chain. 

"  A  nut-brown  maid  she  at  last  proved  to  be,  and  a  very 
business-like  maid,  too,  with  eyes  for  nothing  but  the  punt 
and  the  fishing  materials.  Briskly  seating  herself  on  the 
thwart,  she  took  the  oars  in  her  gloved  hands,  and  pulled 
out  to  the  centre  of  the  lake,  the  strokes  regular,  strong, 
and  determined.  Full  well  I  could  appreciate  her  skill,  for 
a  pretty  figure  my  companion  cut,  in  his  ignorance  of  the 
management  of  ourj  flat-bottomed  craft. 

"  Staring,  and  speechlessness,  and  wonderment  did  not 
aid  one,  as  you  may  suppose.  There  happened  to  be  no- 
keepers  about;  the  constant  breech-loader  reports  ini  the 
distant  plantations  indicated  their  whereabouts  with  suffi- 
cient plainness.  So,  with  curiosity  unsatisfied,  and  much 
more  absorbed  and  reluctant  than  is  my  wont  with  a  sheet 
of  well-preserved  water,  ruffled  by  a  westerly  breeze,  at  my 
will,  I  imitated  the  nut-brown  maid,  and  pushed  off,  show- 
ing how  much  I  was  thinking  of  her  by  proceeding  in  a 
contrary  direction  to  that  she  had  taken,  and  inwardly 
resolving  to  sneak  round  about  her  neighbourhood  before 
the  day  was  over. 

"  Sport  was,  for  a  time,  indifferent  •  that  is  to  say,  in- 
different for  Garstanger  Park.  A  few  three-pounders  were 
returned  to  the  water,  an  eight-pounder  got  away,  and  as^ 
luncheon-time  drew  nigh,  the  bag  contained  only  half  a 
dozen  fair  fish.  The  fish,  you  see,  so  far  as  I  was  con- 
cerned, were  finding  an  unknown  friend  in  the  nut-brown, 
maid. 


HOOKED  FOUL.  215 

"  The  time  had  arrived  when  the  mystery  must  be 
cleared  up.  My  companion  paddled  me  slowly  to  the 
upper  end  of  the  lake,  I  making  a  pretence  of  spinning  the 
water  as  we  progressed.  A  sudden  bend  of  the  shore  gave 
us  sight  of  the  other  punt.  The  boobiest  of  fellows  still 
reclined  at  his  ease,  and  my  nut-brown  maid  stood  con- 
fessed a  veritable  pike-mistress. 

"What  a  figure,  too,  as  she  lightly  swept  the  bamboo 
spinning-rod  over  her  left  shoulder,  and  brought  it  back 
again  for  the  cast !  It  was  the  freest  and  most  graceful 
I  ever  witnessed.  The  bait  fell  with  a  minimum  of  splash 
into  the  water,  not  an  inch  less  than  twenty  yards  the  lee 
side  of  the  punt,  and  it  was  spun  home  at  a  speed  and 
depth  that  bespoke  the  experienced  artist. 

"  You  may  laugh,  my  friend,  but  do  you  not  speak  of  a 
singer,  or  dancer,  or  actor  as  an  i  artiste '  ?  Therefore,  my 
signification  of  the  term,  your  ribald  jeer  notwithstanding, 
is  quite  justifiable.  The  miserable  jester  who  chuckles 
over  the  stale  old  senseless  saying,  '  A  fool  at  one  end 
and  a  worm  at  the  other/  will  not,  perhaps,  understand  me, 
but  that  large  and  increasing  class  of  anglers,  who  are  the 
product  of  nineteenth  century  refinement — yes,  I  do  not 
withdraw  the  assertion — these  will  know  how  to  admire  my 
nymph  of  the  rod.  For  the  space  of  half  an  hour  she 
made  superb  leisurely  casts,  taking  the  punt  as  a  centre 
from  which  to  make  the  radiations,  beginning  with  a  dozen 
yards,  and  regularly  increasing  the  distance,  until  the  maxi- 
mum of  twenty  yards  was  reached. 

"  It  was  some  comfort  that  she  just  now  caught  no  fish. 
I  felt  so  much  the  less  ashamed  of  myself.  A  very  good 
angler,  according  to  the  estimate  of  my  friends,  I  confess 


2 1 6  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

I  here  found  my  master — my  lady  superior.  Never  an 
entanglement,  never  a  false  throw,  never  any  trouble  with 
rings  or  reel,  never  the  faintest  appearance  of  flurry  was 
she  guilty  of.  A  toxophilite,  of  the  feminine  gender,  in  the 
act  of  discharging  an  arrow  from  the  bow,  a  huntress  'lift- 
ing '  her  horse  over  a  stiff  fence,  a  girl  bending  to  the  oars 
on  a  silver  stream,  are  fit  subjects  for  any  painter,  but  not 
worthy  of  comparison  with  my  Angling  Divinity  of  Gar- 
stanger  Park. 

"She  answered  the  purpose,  as  it  were,  of  a  whirlpool 
to  our  boat;  it  began  to  draw  insensibly  into  the  vortex. 
We  approached  nearer  and  nearer.  The  boobiest  of  fel- 
lows maintained  his  masterly  inactivity,  turning  over  page 
after  page  of  his  buff-covered  book,  and  allowing  the  nut- 
brown  maid — when,  having  thoroughly  fished  her  circle, 
she  paddled  to  new  ground — to  handle  the  oars  without 
a  scrap  of  assistance  from  his  long,  white,  useless  fingers. 

"  Aha !  she  had  him  at  last — not  the  supine  novel- 
reader — but  a  fish  !  For  this  I  had  been  waiting.  A  lady 
who  could  spin  for  pike  in  this  most  mistressly  style,  I 
had  for  the  first  time  beheld ;  but  what  would  she  do  with 
it  when  the  critical  moment  arrived?  It  was,  as  I  might 
have  known,  of  a  piece  with  the  rest.  She  handled  the 
fresh-water  shark  with  consummate  skill :  it  ought  to  have 
been  a  pleasure  to  any  well-regulated  pike  to  be  so  scien- 
tifically dealt  with.  I  could  tell  by  the  quick  jerk  of  the 
rod  that  the  deluded  fish  was  a  good  one,  and  the  sharp, 
prompt  little  twist  of  the  lady's  wrist  was  proof  positive 
that  the  triangles  had  been  well  struck  into  him. 

"  Sensible  woman  !  Yet  it  was  so  like  her  sex  to  permit 
the  captive  to  bolt  about  wherever  he  listed,  confident  that 


HOOKED  FOUL.  217 

he  was  secured,  and  not  objecting  to  enjoy  his  hopeless 
straggles  before  treating  him  to  the  coup  de  grace.  The 
pike  seemed  particularly  uncomfortable,  and  the  lady 
smiled  a  smile  of  calm  and  virtuous  content  as  he  gave 
evidence  of  his  perturbed  state  of  mind.  He  kept  well 
down  into  the  deep,  describing,  as  the  line  indicated,  a 
series  of  strange  mathematical  figures. 

"  The  moment  the  angleress  tightened  on  him,  he  leaped, 
shining  like  gold,  a  foot  out  of  the  water ! — bringing  an- 
other quiet  smile  into  her  placid  face  when  he  fell  back. 
Her  theory  was  to  give  her  enemy  plenty  of  line — (and  let 
me  tell  you  in  an  ;  aside/  there  are  worse  notions  than 
that  for  other  pursuits  than  pike-fishing).  The  line  was 
hauled  in  and  neatly  deposited  in  circles  on  the  floor  of 
the  punt;  and  when,  at  length,  the  broad  yellow  side  of 
the  conquered  one  appeared  on  the  surface  at  the  exact 
spot  necessary  for  successful  bagging,  the  lady,  with  a 
slight  flush  of  cheek  and  flash  of  eye,  inserted  the  gaff 
under  his  gaping  gill,  and  lifted  him  deftly  over  the 
gunwale. 

"A  cheery  bell-metal  laugh  broke  the  silence.  The 
game — objecting,  maybe,  to  the  morality  of  Mons.  Du- 
mas— flapped  and  floundered  at  the  young  gentleman  in 
the  stern,  causing  him  to  splutter,  to  drop  '  Beau  Tan- 
crede,'  and  jump  so  ludicrously,  that  the  nut-brown  maid 
indulged  in  several  merry  peals. 

"The  fish  could  not  frighten  her :  to  be  sure,  petticoats 
are  a  protection  to  a  lady  in  more  ways  than  one.  But  she 
made  no  effort  to  get  out  of  his  way  when  he  descended 
against  her  skirts ;  on  the  contrary,  she  waited  her  oppor- 
tunity— thrust  her  fore-finger  and  thumb  into  the  eye-sockets, 


T  8  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

honouring  the  fish  by  the  act ;  and,  unhooking  the  gimp  to 
which  the  hooks  were  attached  from  the  tracing-swivel, 
dropped  his  pikeship,  with  due  regard  to  decency  and  pre- 
servation, into  a  large  rush  basket  that,  I  suspect,  had  often 
done  similar  duty  aforetime. 

"  The  lady  was  uncommonly  methodical,  I  noticed.  In 
precisely  the  proper  place  for  handiness,  there  was  a  tin  case, 
stored  with  spinning  tackle  already  baited,  leaving  her  no- 
thing to  do  at  each  capture  but  attach  the  loop  to  the  swivel. 
This  saved  her  the  unpleasant  necessity  of  meddling  with  the 
small  dead  fish  employed  as  bait,  and  the  much  more  un- 
pleasant necessity  of  gouging  the  murderous  triangles  out  of 
the  pike's  formidable  jaws — labour  I  fain  hoped  fell  to  the 
share  of  some  male  relative  at  home. 

"  A  complimentary  sentence  trembled  at  the  tip  of  my 
tongue,  but  her  appearance  furnished  me  no  encourage- 
ment to  utter  it.  Besides,  there  was  no  time,  since  before  re- 
suming operations  she  gave  her  punt  the  benefit  of  half  a 
dozen  vigorous  strokes  of  the  oars,  by  which  movement  the 
few  paces  which  had  separated  us  were  quadrupled  ;  and,  as- 
you  must  confess,  it  would  have  been  simply  ridiculous  to 
make  a  speaking  trumpet  of  your  hand,  and  bawl  at  the 
top  of  your  voice — 

"  '  Allow  me,  madam/  or  '  dear  madam,'  as  the  case  might 
be,  '  to  congratulate  you  upon  the  clever  manner  in  which 
you  killed  that  fish.' 

"  Absurd,  would  it  not  ? 

"  My  amateur  boatman  furthermore  began  to  taunt -me 
upon  my  idleness,  my  non-success,  my  moon-strucky 
behaviour.  To  taunt  was  to  rouse.  I  (metaphorically) 
girded  up  my  loins,  and  bade  the  fish  to  come  on,  that  I 


HOOKED  FOUL.  219 

might  smite  them  hip  and  thigh  with  great  slaughter.  I 
invoked  the  aid  of  the  late  Izaak  Walton,  Esq.,  and  hummed 
a  bar  or  two  of  '  Doughty  Deeds/  I  so  manoeuvred  the 
punt  that  the  nut-brown  unknown  should  have  me  in  view, 
to  contrast  my  manly  proportions,  if  haply  she  looked  our 
way,  with  the  lanky,  flax-headed,  insipid  dawdler,  whose 
general  purpose  in  the  economy  of  Nature,  and  particular 
business  in  that  punt,  were  unsolved  conundrums  to  me  just 
then. 

"  Swish  !  whistle  !  splash  !  spin  !  and  at  it  I  went.  Heigho  !. 
What  was  this  ?  A  tree-trunk  submerged  ?  Bravo  !  .  It 
was  one  of  the  mighty  ones  of  the  lake.  Feeling  the  hooks 
he  went  off,  pulling  like  a  barge.  Twenty,  forty,  fifty,  a 
hundred  yards  of  line  were  run  straight  off  the  reel,  without 
so  much  as  a  '  By  your  leave.'  It  was  that  peculiar  run 
by  which  a  substantial  prize  is  always  known,  be  it  salmon, 
trout,  or  pike ;  none  of  your  tug-tugs,  dart-darts,  here-there- 
and-every where  up-and-down  trifling,  but  a  steady,  heavy, 
sullen  travelling  away  from  the  base  of  assault.  The  stricken 
fish  headed  straight  for  the  bow  of  the  other  punt.  My 
companion,  taking  his  commands  from  me,  backed  water, 
and  we  followed.  My  lady  had  paused  in  her  work,  and 
stood,  rod  in  hand,  with  a  dark  green  belt  of  firs  as  a  distant 
background,  and  the  ruddy  sun  striking  slantwise  upon  her, 
a  model  for  a  statue.  She  forgot  the  formal  reserve  of  the 
lady,  in  the  enthusiasm  of  the  sportswoman. 

"'You  have  a  fine  fish  there!'  she  ejaculated,  quite  as 
delighted  as  if  it  were  her  luck,  and  not  mine. 

"'  Indeed  yes/ I  replied,  beginning  to  strain  upon  the 
object  in  question;  'but  unfortunately  I  have  no  gaff/ 

"  '  Oh,  take  mine.    Do  you  think  I  can  help  you  ?'  she  said.. 


220  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

"  The  fish  was  at  that  moment  making  a  fresh  spurt,  and  it 
behoved  rne  to  be  wary ;  but  be  the  consequences  what 
they  might,  I  was  bound  to  look  into  her  face,  and  express 
my  thanks  with  eye  as  well  as  lip.  Well,  never  mind.  There 
are  obvious  reasons  why  it  would  be  better  to  say  no  more 
upon  this  part  of  the  proceeding. 

"As  to  the  pike,  there  he  is,  stuffed  and  still  in  the  lower 
case.  Judge  for  yourself  the  fun  we — I  advisedly  deem  it  a 
partnership  matter — had  before  we  made  his  personal 
acquaintance.  We  brought  the  punts  close  together,  and 
before  I  knew  her  intentions,  my  newly  made  friend  had 
stepped  nimbly  into  my  boat  and  was  at  my  side,  quietly 
biding  the  time  to  strike.  I  wished  to  transfer  the  rod  to 
her,  and  take  the  gaffing  upon  myself ;  she  pleaded  hard  to 
have  the  honour,  and  I  vow  that  if  she  had  pleaded  to  gaff 
me,  in  lieu  of  the  fish,  so  charmingly  did  she  plead,  I  would 
have  interposed  no  objection. 

"  Half  an  hour  fully  were  we  privileged  to  stand  side  by 
side  waiting  for  the  end.  To  tell  you  the  whole  truth,  I 
delayed  the  consummation  till  for  very  shame  I  had  to 
present  the  butt  of  the  rod  to  the  fish ;  and  even  that  would 
not  have  been  ventured  upon,  but  for  a  hint  from  the  lady 
that  the  fish's  extremity  was  my  opportunity.  Thereupon  I 
closed  with  him,  brought  him  to  reaching  distance,  and 
enjoyed  the  felicity  of  beholding  the  sharp  gaff  unerringly 
employed,  and  the  monster  hauled,  viciously  plunging,  out 
of  his  native  element. 

"  l  Ha  !  ha  !  hooked  foul !'  quoth  the  nut-brown  maid,  with 
a  little  dance  of  astonishment.  It  was  even  so ;  the  fish 
was,  as  anglers  put  it,  '  hooked  foul.' 

"  Then  up  and  spake  the  being  in  the  other  boat,  who  had 


HOOKED  FOUL.  221 

been,  I  am  well  assured,  forgotten  by  the  entire  company, 
while  a  nobler  creature,  albeit  of  the  finny  order,  had 
engaged  our  attention.  Probably  he  had  been  watching  us 
out  of  the  corner  of  his  fishy-looking  eye,  though  now  he 
pretended  languidly  to  put  aside  his  book  for  the  first 
time. 

"  '  Did  I  underthtand,  Tharah,  that  you  thaid  "  Hooked 
foul ?"'  he  drawled. 

"  She  turned  a  trifle  sharply  towards  him,  as  if  recalled  by 
the  question  into  another  and  less  pleasant  state  of  being ; 
so  at  least  I  flattered  myself. 

" 1 1  don't  know  what  you  understood,  Frank,  but  that  is 
what  I  said.  It  may  not  be  grammar,  but  it  is  a  perfectly 
well-known  technical  phrase.  Yes  ;  I  said  "  hooked  foul," ' 
she  boldly  answered. 

"  <  And  will  you  tell  me,  Tharah,  what  ith  "  hooked  foul  ?  "  ' 

" l  Hooked  foul,  Frank/  she  stated,  without  looking  at 
her  questioner,  i  means  "  hooked  foul."  That  is  to  say  you 
are  trying  to  hook  something  in  one  way,  fail  to  do  so,  but 
hook  it  in  another  not  quite  so  straightforward.  You  don't 
get  it  by  hook  but  by  crook/ 

"  This  being  not  a  very  lucid  explanation,  I  was  em- 
boldened to  take  up  the  parable.  Said  I,  with  an  air  of 
nonchalant  wisdom — 

"  '  You  see,  this  fish,  if  caught  in  the  orthodox  way,  would 
have  snapped  at  the  baited  hooks,  and  enclosed  them  with 
his  jaws.  He  probably  went  so  far  as  the  snap,  and  missed 
the  bait,  but  the  revolving  hooks  caught  him  on  the  shoulder, 
as  you  observe,  and  here  he  is.  The  great  point,  after  all,  is 
that  he  is  hooked  somehow.' 

" '  It's  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  be  hooked  foul,  Frank,7 


2  2  2  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

observed  the  young  lady  who  had  been  addressed  as 
Sarah. 

"  'P'wapth  not,  Tharah/  he  rejoined,  with  a  greenish  tinge 
in  his  eye ;  l  but,  ath  you  thay,  the  great  point  ith  that  your 
fith  ith  hooked  thomehow.' 

"What  possessed  me,  unless  the  thing  called  Fate,  to 
take  part  in  a  dialogue  which  had  most  evidently  assumed  a 
meaning  personal  to  the  speakers,  I  know  not,  but  I  must 
needs  fix  my  eye  upon  the  young  man,  and  observe — 

"'Well,  that  depends  on  circumstances,  you  know.  A 
fish  hooked  foul,  you  should  remember,  has  a  very  good 
chance  of  shaking  itself  free/ 

'•  This  was  but  a  random  shot,  but,  like  many  another  bow 
at  a  venture,  it  went  home.  The  lisper  changed  to  the 
colour  of  tallow,  while  the  nut-brown  maid's  face  was 
suddenly  warmed  from  within  by  a  crimson  flush.  However, 
the  mischief  was  done,  and  we  separated  in  constraint.  The 
evening  drew  on  apace,  and  at  dusk  we  found  ourselves 
together  again  at  the  lodge,  weighing  the  prize. 

"  It  was  sunset.  The  woods  were  crowned  with  the  golden 
glow  of  the  west;  the  lady  stood  in  the  reflection,  its  queen. 
•  The  boobiest  of  fellows  sulked  at  the  garden  gate ;  we  could 
afford  to  dispense  with  his  company. 

"It  is  best  to  be  particular  :  that  fish  weighed  twenty-nine 
pounds  five  ounces  and  one  quarter,  by  the  keeper's  steel- 
yard. 

"  '  A  very  fine  fish,  sir.     Good  night/  the  lady  said. 

"  '  Yes,  very  fine ;  good  night/  I  answered,  doffing  my 
deerstalker,  of  course  ;  the  lout  at  the  gate  scowling  covertly 
the  while. 

"  And   was   that   all  ?      What   more   would   you   wish  ? 


HOOKED  FOUL.  223 

Simply  a  casual  meeting,   and  an  abrupt  parting.      What 
more  would  you  have  ? 

"  Let  me  detain  you  another  moment.  There  was  some- 
thing else.  The  nut-brown  maid  was  a  clergyman's  daughter, 
Miss  Graham  by  name.  So  much  I  found  out  by  directly 
questioning  the  keeper.  I  drove  out  of  Garstanger  Park, 
sincerely  wishing  it  had  been  my  fortune  to  know  more  of 
her,  debating  whether  the  phase  of  strong-mindedness  I  had 
seen  was  a  desirable  symptom  for  a  young  lady  and  a  clergy- 
man's daughter,  and  altogether  a  little — the  smallest  bit — 
in  love  with  her. 

"  A  month  or  two  later  came  that  German  episode  of 
mine,  and  the  nut-brown  maid,  though  not  absolutely 
forgotten,  was  not  a  frequent  or  troublesome  visitor  at 
Memory's  door.  She  used  to  knock  at  it  in  the  quiet  hours 
sometimes,  and  I  would  always  open  it,  and  admit  and  keep 
her  there  as  long  as  possible.  But  I  can  conscientiously 
-aver  she  was  merely  as  the  refrain  of  a  dreamy  melody  float- 
ing from  a  distance.  I  was  destined  to  be  somewhat  rudely 
reminded  of  her  and  hers  on  my  return  to  England. 

"  Dozing  in  the  big  easy  chair  of  my  sitting-room  one 
twilight,  the  tableau  I  described  at  the  keeper's  lodge  came 
to  me  in  a  vision,  in  which  the  young  man  skulking  at  the 
gate  seemed  to  change  into  the  pike  hanging  from  the  steel- 
yard. It  may  seem  very  like  a  storyteller's  trick  to  say  it, 
but  I  was  awakened  by  a  knocking  at  my  door,  and  the 
young  man  himself  pushed  past  the  servant,  and  stalked  into 
the  room. 

"  '  Do  you  thee  thith  whip  ? '  he  said,  flourishing  a  heavy- 
thonged  hunting  weapon. 

"  *  Thit  down,  young  man/  I  answered,  mockingly,  but 


224  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

mighty  wrathful,  you  may  be  certain,  at  the  outrage,  the 
meaning  of  which  was  evident. 

"  'Do  you  thee  thith  whip?7  he  shrieked,  moving  to- 
wards me,  who  had  not  yet  risen  from  my  dozing  posture. 

"  It  was  an  unfortunate  occurrence.  A  week  within  a 
day  elapsed  before  he  could  be  removed  into  the  country, 
and  it  cost  me  a  lot  of  money  for  doctoring  him,  to  say 
nothing  of  that  possible  verdict  of  i  manslaughter,'  which 
haunted  me  morning,  noon,  and  night.  I  must  acknow- 
ledge, as  he  did  afterwards,  that  the  thrashing  did  him 
good  ;  it  made  him  penitent,  and  during  the  penitence  a  fit 
of  communicativeness  supervened. 

"  It  appeared  (as  learned  counsel  say  to  juries)  that  he 
was  a  Graham  too,  a  cousin  of  the  young  lady  with  the 
nut-brown  face,  and — but  you  already  guess  it — engaged 
to  her  almost  from  childhood,  in  accordance  with  the  fond 
parents'  desires.  That  they  cordially  hated  each  other, 
both  the  demands  of  truth  and  the  requirements  of  fiction 
compel  me  to  declare.  Only,  Harold  Graham  was  not 
prepared  to  relinquish  the  hard  cash  which  was  to  be  his 
when  he  married  his  Cousin  Sarah.  The  day  at  Gar- 
stanger  Park  was  a  crisis  in  their  career.  Mr.  Graham 
thought  fit,  after  the  tableau  at  the  lodge,  to  remonstrate 
with  his  affianced ;  first,  for  using  the  expression  '  Hooked 
foul/  and  next,  for  being  what  he  impertinently  charac- 
terised unwomanly  in  her  amusements.  While  my  friend 
and  I  were  rattling  through  the  lanes  in  happy  content, 
that  youthful  couple  were  having,  in  vulgar  parlance,  quite 
a  respectable  row.  Somehow  I,  the  unknown  stranger,  was 
introduced  into  the  quarrel,  and  Mademoiselle  indiscreetly 
made  comparisons. 


HOOKED  FOUL.  225 

"  '  The  fact  is/  she  said,  '  I  don't  forget  what  that  young 
gentleman  so  sensibly  remarked  :  "  A  fish  hooked  foul  has 
a  very  good  chance  of  shaking  itsdf free."  ' 

"  From  that  moment  Sarah  Graham  devoted  herself  to 
the  task  of  shaking  herself  free  :  she  considered  she  was 
4  hooked  foul/  From  that  moment  Harold  Graham  gave 
himself  up  to  revenge.  There  was  one  slight  difficulty  to 
be  overcome,  viz.,  his  ignorance  of  my  name,  address,  and 
station.  It  took  him  months  to  get  over  it.  He  spent  a 
little  fortune,  they  say,  in  journeys  to  London,  hoping  to 
meet  me  by  accident.  Finally  he  sought  Lord  Garstanger, 
and  pretending  I  had  lent  him  a  flask,  or  winch,  or  cigar- 
case,  or  something  which  he  wished  to  return,  found  out 
my  whereabouts.  He  had,  in  some  inconceivable  manner, 
stumbled  upon  the  notion  that  I  was  in  communication 
with  his  cousin,  and  that  I  was  supplanting  him.  She 
herself  rather  encouraged  the  idea  to  spite  him,  and  by- 
and-by  his  hatred  of  me  became  a  mania. 

"Shall  I  detain  you  much  longer?  No.  I  have  placed 
the  ends  of  the  skein  in  your  hands  :  it  is  for  you  to  gather 
them  up.  Harold  Graham  was  a  poor  weak  creature ;  he 
was  never  known  to  display  energy  before  the  interval 
between  our  day  at  Garstanger  Park  and  the  athletic 
exercise  he  and  I  took  in  my  sitting-room,  and  since  then 
he  has  subsided  into  a  sort  of  amateur  idiocy. 

"And  now  you  ask  me  whether  I  do  not  consider 
Sarah  Graham  a  very  objectionable  young  woman?  In 
confidence,  I  assure  you  I  do  not.  I  take  your  vehement 
affirmation  of  a  contrary  opinion  as  a  sign  of  profound 
insight  into  human  character,  my  young  friend.  Don't  be 
angry  with  me,  if  I  suggest  we  should  agree  to  differ. 

Q 


226  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

"  But  here's  the  good  wife  with  the  bairns  to  say  '  good 
even  !'  Let  us  ask  her  to  decide  between  us. 

"Does  she  know  the  story? 

"  Pretty  well,  I  believe  !  Between  ourselves,  old  fellow, 
she  is  the  nut-brown  maid  !" 


CHAPTER  XI. 

UNLUCKY  DAYS   IN  WALES. 

"  'Tis  not  in  mortals  to  command  success, 
But  well  do  more,  Sempronius  !  We'll  deserve  it." 

AMONGST  the  full  tale  of  unlucky  days  that  have  fallen  to 
my  share  the  three  most  unlucky  were  in  the  Principality. 
Number  one  was  a  February  day  on  the  Usk ;  number  two  a 
Whit-Monday  on  Lake  Ogwen ;  and  number  three  a  half- 
holiday  on  Llangorst  Pool. 

When  you  are  the  fortunate  holder  of  an  invitation  to  fish 
a  stream  worth  the  fishing  to  an  extent  which  makes  the  in- 
vitation equal  in  your  eyes  to  its  weight  in  gold,  you 
naturally  rejoice,  and  prepare  to  live  up  to  your  privileges. 
Placed  in  circumstances  which  make  it  doubtful  whether 
such  an  opportunity  will  for  many  a  long  day  again  be 
offered,  wind  and  weather  are  not  likely  to  stand  in  your 
way.  Yet,  if  there  is  anything  more  absolutely  hopeless  than 
the  prospect  of  inducing  a  trout  to  look  at  a  fly  on  a  frosty 
morning,  not. five  days  beyond  January,  with  ice  on  the 
puddles,  and  a  thick  garment  of  hoar  upon  the  shoulders  of 
the  mountains,  I  should  like  to  hear  what  that  prospect  is. 
The  opening  of  my  February  day  on  the  Usk  was  enough  to 
make  one  exclaim  with  cynical  Byron  : — 

"  No — as  soon 
Seek  roses  in  December,  ice  in  June  ; 

Q  2 


228  WA TERS1DE  SKETCHES. 

Hope  constancy  in  wind,  or  corn  in  chaff; 
Believe  a  woman,  or  an  epitaph ;" 

— as  hope  to  deprive  a  trout  of  life  on  such  an  objectionable 
fishing  day  as  it  in  every  respect  was. 

But  if  only  for  the  fun  of  the  attempt  we  resolved  to  make 
the  best  of  the  inevitable,  and,  donning  our  warmest  ulsters, 
departed  on  our  eight  mile  drive  to  the  river.  Cowper 
indited  a  quantity  of  interesting  lines  on  "  A  Winter's  Walk 
at  Noon";  had  I  a  Cowper's  muse  I  might  have  sung  the 
charms  of  "  A  Winter's  Ride  at  Morn."  Not  that  the 
captain,  my  genial  host  'and  companion,  was  of  a  poetical 
turn  of  mind ;  but  he  could  handle  the  reins,  and  also  the 
whip,  with  the  reservation  that  long  familiarity  with  the  fly  rod 
led  him  to  impart  an  involuntary  whipping  motion  to  the 
weapon,  and  make  everlasting  casts  at  the  chestnut's  ear. 
The  captain  was  not  poetical,  probably  because  it  is  not  a 
way  they  have  in  the  army,  but  he  had  a  poet's  love  for  the 
beautiful,  and  uttered  many  neat  remarks  in  praise  of  the 
mountains  along  whose  side  we  journeyed. 

Wales  is  rich  in  valleys,  and  that  which  lay  beneath  us  was; 
perfect  in  all  the  features  that  should  compose  a  clearly  de- 
fined vale.  Never  exceeding  a  mile  in  width,  never  too- 
narrow  to  obstruct  the  view,  it  stretched  across  from  one 
range  of  hills  to  another,  level  as  a  lawn,  and  brightly  green. 
Down  the  middle  flowed  a  trout  stream  ;  farms  and  cottages,, 
like  decorations  on  a  courtier's  bosom,  shone  in  the 
strengthening  sun.  It  wound  about  under  the  hills  enough 
to  give  repeated  changes  of  landscape,  yet  not  abruptly  to 
spoil  the  gracefulness  of  the  general  idea,  which  was  that  of 
a  succession  of  sweeping  vistas,  leading  to  something  still 
more  beautiful  beyond.  In  the  distance  bolder  summits  than 


UNL  UCKY  DA  YS  IN  WALES.  2  2 9 

any  immediately  overshadowing  the  valley  lifted  their  brows, 
wrinkling  with  fantastic  rapidity  as  the  sunbeams  smote  the 
frost  and  thawed  the  whiteness.  Nearer  at  hand  we  had  in- 
cipient furze  blossoms  and  hedges  heavy  with  glittering 
hoar. 

The  keeper  was  waiting  for  his  young  master,  with  a 
question  in  his  eye  which  it  was  unnecessary  to  trans- 
late into  words.  "  Oh  yes,  we'll  try  certainly,  as  we  have 
come  so  far,"  answered  the  captain,  divining  his  thoughts, 
"  but  there  is  not  the  ghost  of  a  chance." 

"  'Deed  there's  not,  sir,"  replied  the  man. 

Cheering  ourselves  thus  we  made  ready  in  the  fishing 
lodge  and  walked  across  the  meadow  armed  cap-ci-pie ;  flies 
— a  March  brown,  blue  dun,  and  February  red.  There 
are  not  many  streams  in  the  three  kingdoms  that  will  repay 
for  whipping  in  the  second  month  of  the  year,  but  the  Usk, 
and  other  smaller  rivers  in  that  part  of  South  Wales,  are 
fairly  and  legally  open  to  the  rod  at  the  beginning  of 
February.  Excellent  sport  is  sometimes  had  on  warm  days 
as  the  month  draws  on ;  March  and  April  are  indeed  ac- 
counted the  best  months  in  the  year.  The  Mayfly  brings 
no  harvest  to  the  Usk  as  to  other  trout  streams,  the  stock 
flies  throughout  the  early  months  of  the  summer  being  the 
March  brown,  blue  dun,  and  coch-a-bondhu,  with  slight 
variations  of  shape  and  size  according  to  the  altered  condi- 
tions of  the  water. 

The  Usk  at  the  portion  we  attempted  is  sparkling  and 
lively,  but  plays  no  unseemly  antics,  as  it  flows  along  its 
level  bed,  meandering  freely  around  oft-recurring  bends,  and 
seemingly  proud  that  the  mountains  standing  sentinel  over 
it  must  in  honesty  place  it  in  a  different  category  from  those 


2 30  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

descending  brooks  that  babble  their  business  to  the  whole 
country  side.  The  banks  are  not  encumbered  with  trees ; 
the  angler  perceives  this  and  keeps  in  the  background,  for. 
as  the  Poet-Laureate  truly  warns  us  : — 

"  If  a  man  who  stands  upon  the  brink 
But  lift  a  shining  hand  against  the  sun, 
There  is  not  left  the  twinkle  of  a  fin." 

The  captain  generously  gave  me  the  pick  of  the  streams, 
and  if  he  was  generous  I  was  grateful,  and  not  at  'all  dis- 
inclined to  take  him  at  his  word.  Soon  an  amazing  thing 
happened :  I  hooked  a  trout,  though  the  thin  ice  was 
crackling  under  the  feet  as  I  stood  to  play  him — hooked, 
played,  and  nearly  lost  him  through  the  well-meant  endea- 
vours of  a  friend  who  was  commissioned  to  put  the  net  under 
him.  That  which  ends  well,  we  are  assured  by  ancient 
proverb,  is  well,  and  it  may  save  the  reader  some  anxiety  of 
mind  to  tell  him,  by  anticipation,  that  the  trout  was  ultimately 
safely  bagged.  The  captain  stood  in  the  stream  and  made 
the  welkin  ring  with  laughter  at  our  bungling.  My  volunteer 
assistant  was,  physically,  as  fine  a  man  as  you  would  wish  to 
see,  and  handsome  in  the  bargain :  at  least,  so  the  Welsh 
damsels  told  themselves,  and — him.  But  the  landing  net 
was  not  dreamt  of  in  his  philosophy,  nor  had  his  burly  form 
been  framed  for  bending  low  over  a  steep  bank.  His 
innocent  but  determined  attempts  to  smite  the  fish  off  the 
hook  as  soon  as  it  came  within  range,  his  bewilderment 
when  requested  in  angry  tones  to  sink  the  net,  his  beaming 
pride  when  by  a  lucky  accident  the  trout,,  escaping  a  vicious 
prod  he  had  aimed  at  its  head,  ran  into  the  net,  were  very 
mirth-inspiring  to  the  captain.  And  after  all  this  fuss, 


UNL  UCKF  DA  YS  IN  WALES.  2  3 1 

command,  entreaty,  and  (I  fear  me)  abuse,  the  fish  might 
have  weighed  half  a  pound. 

The  second  trout  was  a  beauty,  of  nearly  three  times  this 
size;  with  it  no  trifling  could  be  permitted.  Our  friend, 
therefore,  repeating  his  dangerous  assaults,  was  instantly 
deprived  of  the  landing  net,  and  the  angler  became  his  own 
assistant.  If  the  truth  must  be  wholly  told  this  anecdote  is 
introduced  to  pave  the  way  for  a  morsel  of  advice.  Keep 
your  landing  net  and  gaff  in  your  own  hands  as  much  as 
possible — you  will  be  more  independent,  less  likely  to  lose 
fish  by  trusting  to  inexperienced  strangers,  and  better  able 
to  cope  with  a  sharp  emergency  when  it  arises,  as  sooner  or 
later  arise  it  will. 

A  third  trout  completed  my  bag  on  this  early  February 
day  on  the  Usk.  My  own  London-made  March  browns, 
upon  which  I  had  with  reason  prided  myself,  were,  as  so 
often  happens,  useless  :  it  was  a  large  and  unpretending  fly 
given  me  by  the  keeper  which  performed  the  trifling  trans- 
actions that  I  had  been  able  to  carry  through. 

When  the  fish  are  rising,  and  one's  stay  by  a  good  river 
is  restricted,  all  the  feeding  encouraged  during  the  day  should 
be  left  to  the  fish  and  such  like  small  deer.  The  keen 
sportsman  cannot  afford  to  throw  away  half-hours  upon 
knife-and-fork.  But  on  a  February  day,  appetite  sharpened 
by  the  frost,  and  hopes  blighted  by  two  hours  without  a 
rise,  asceticism  does  not  commend  itself  to  the  pilgrim's 
affections.  Man,  after  all.  is  a  gross  animal.  It  is  humilia- 
ting to  chronicle  the  admission,  but  it  is  true,  that  the  feature 
of  that  particular  day  which  stands  out  most  boldly  in  my 
recollection  is — not  the  drive  along  the  mountain  side,  not 
the  yellow  furze  blossoms  and  silvered  branches,  not  the 


23  2  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

genial  companionship  of  my  gallant  young  guide,  not  the 
rescue  of  the  trout  from  the  evil  attacks  of  Adonis,  not  the 
sight  of  a  comely  Usk  trout  safe  in  the  depths  of  the  net, 
but  the  homely  table  in  the  fishing  lodge  garnished  with  a 
leg  of  real  Welsh  five-year-old  mutton  fed  on  the  home  farm 
and  roasted  artistically.  Man,  I  repeat,  is  a  gross  animal ; 
but  for  all  that,  mutton  when  it  is  Welsh,  when  it  is  five-year- 
old,  when  it  is  well  roasted  from  knuckle  to  blade,  is  not 
to  be  put  aside  in  terms  of  contemptuous  indifference. 

The  afternoon  passed  principally  in  an  inspection  of  the 
pools  for  salmon,  of  which  we  saw  several.  The  keeper 
had  hooked  one  which  he  pronounced  an  "  old  Turk," 
and  set  at  liberty,  not  because  of  its  oriental  attributes,  but 
because  it  was  not  in  season  ;  the  captain  also  had  turned 
one  over,  and  I  had  scared  a  small  fellow  from  the  water's 
edge.  The  Usk  is  as  late  a  river  for  salmon  as  it  is  early  for 
trout.  When  was  the  Usk  not  famous  for  its  salmon  ?  Poets 
wrote  about  it  in  1555  : — 

1  'In  Oske  doth  sammon  lye, 
And  of  good  fish,  in  Oske,  you  shall  not  mis ; 
And  this  seems  strange,  and  doth  through  Wales  appere 
In  some  one  place  are  sammons  all  the  yeere. 
So  fresh,  so  sweet,  so  red,  so  crimp  withal, 
That  man  might  say  *  Loe '  sammon  here  at  call." 

Coming  from  the  sixteenth  to  the  nineteenth  century  it  is 
not  difficult  to  furnish  a  convincing  proof  of  the  abundance 
of  Usk  "sammon."  Not  many  seasons  since  a  gentleman, 
who  himself  related  to  me  the  circumstance,  counted  on  a 
bend  of  the  river  not  more  than  200  yards  long  thirty-nine 
old  or  spent  fish  that  had  perished  while  waiting  for  floods 
to  take  them  to  the  sea.  Mr.  Robert  Crawshay,  the 'iron 


UNLUCKY  DAYS  IN  WALES.  233 

king,  rents  a  large  section  of  the  Usk,  and  is  one  of  the 
most  enthusiastic  of  its  anglers.  On  the  22nd  of  October, 
1874,  he  himself — other  members  of  his  family  also  killing 
fish — caught  nine  salmon — a  male  of  twenty-two  pounds 
hooked  in  the  pectoral  fin,  a  female  of  sixteen  pounds  at  the 
same  time  and  place,  also  caught  by  the  pectoral  fin,  a 
female  of  nineteen  pounds  hooked  in  the  side,  and  the 
remainder — all  hen  fish — taken  in  the  ordinary  way — thirteen 
pounds,  ten  pounds,  eight  pounds,  five  and  a  half  pounds, 
four  and  a  half  pounds,  and  four  pounds — total  102  pounds. 
To  the  recreation  of  angling  Mr.  Crawshay  adds  that  of 
photography,  as  frequenters  of  our  art  exhibitions  will 
remember,  and  he  makes  the  one  wait  upon  the  other  in  a 
manner  very  interesting  to  the  pisciculturist.  The  whole  of 
the  salmon  taken  on  the  day  specified  he  photographed, 
for  scientific  purposes.  The  three  largest  were  photo- 
graphed separately  on  an  extended  scale  and  partly  opened, 
so  as  to  show  the  precise  condition  of  the  fish  in  spawn. 
The  roe  in  the  nineteen  pounder  appears  ingeniously  exposed 
in  its  natural  position ;  it  weighed  three  pounds  ten  ounces, 
and  as  the  number  of  ova  in  one  ounce  is  380,  the  eggs  in 
this  one  salmon  numbered  22,040. 

Frost  in  February  is  not  out  of  the  course  of  nature,  but 
what  say  you  to  a  Whit-Monday  hailstorm  ?  Was  that  the 
reception  the  mountains  of  North  Wales  should  have  given 
to  a  confiding  man  who  had  travelled  two  hundred  and 
thirty  miles  to  pay  them  (and  their  water-basins)  due 
homage?  Yet  even  so  it  happened.  On  the  Saturday 
previous  I  had  diligently  fished  up  the  meadows  of  Nant 
Ffrancon,  or  the  Beaver's  Hollow,  content  with  a  satisfactory 
basket  of  small  trout,  revelling  in  the  wild  loneliness  of  the 


234  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

valley,  and  almost  happy;  the  drawback  was  a  herd  of 
Welsh  cattle  which,  led  on  by  a  scoundrelly  little  bull,  chased 
me  with  most  malicious  intent,  and  interfered  sadly  with  the 
peace  of  mind  which  would  otherwise  have  invested  me  like 
a  mantle.  For  skirmishes  of  this  nature  the  angler  in  North 
Wales  must  be  prepared ;  they  are  much  too  generally  part 
of  the  sport. 

Llyn  Ogwen  as  the  bonne  bouche  had  been  reserved  for  a 
long  day.  They  never  fish  on  Sundays  in  Wales,  but  the 
quarrymen  take  long  walks  into  the  country,  and  come  home 
in  the  evening  with  something  moist  in  their  handkerchiefs. 
On  Whit-Sunday,  walking  up  to  reconnoitre,  and  order  a  boat, 
I  myself  saw  a  few  movements  by  Ap-Evans,  Ap-Jones,  Ap- 
Williams,  and  Co.,  which  fully  explained  the  odour  of  fried 
fish  that  pervaded  Bethesda  at  night.  A  lovelier  day  than 
this  never  dawned  ;  the  wild  hyacinths,  primroses,  buttercups 
and  daisies,  bloomed  fresh  and  fair  in  the  private  grounds 
through  which  you  are  permitted  to  cut  off  a  long  turn  in 
the  high  road ;  the  birds  sang  out  of  the  fullness  of  their 
holiday  heart ;  the  fleecy  clouds  ran  lightly  before  the  wind 
over  the  hills ;  the  air,  soft  and  amorous,  cooled  you  with  a 
fan  of  balmy  perfume. 

The  craggy  mountains  and  stupendous  rocks  at  the  upper 
end  of  this  valley  seem  made  for  storm  and  gloom  only,  but 
they  did  not  take  this  clear  June  sunlight  amiss,  and  made 
no  opposition  to  its  beams  searching  out  and  revealing 
weird  clefts  and  chasms  said  in  legend  to  be  the  abode  of 
devils  and  imps ;  one  precipice  by  Llyn  Idwall  was  and  is 
believed  by  the  superstitious  to  be  the  main  entrance  to 
Satan's  kitchen,  and  is  named  Twll-ddu  accordingly.  The 
fish  in  Lake  Idwall,  says  Welsh  tradition,  were,  in  memory  of 


UNLUCKY  DAYS  IN  WALES.  235 

the  murder  of  a  prince  by  his  ruthless  guardian,  for  ever 
doomed  to  the  loss  of  one  eye  ;  the  guide  books  tell  you 
that,  as  there  are  no  fish  left  in  the  lake,  it  is  impossible 
to  verify  the  legend.  Unfortunately  for  the  unity  of  this 
touching  narrative — one  does  not  like  to  have  one's  idols 
shattered — Lake  Idwall  on  this  Whit-Sunday  was  consider- 
ably dimpled  by  the  rising  of  fleshly  trout,  and  one  fish  leap- 
ing a  somersault  out  of  the  water  to  all  appearances  was  not 
the  victim  of  optical  defect.  Still  it  is  a  horribly  gloomy 
pool,  dark  and  remote  amongst  the  mountains,  and  frowned 
upon  by  savage  rocks. 

Lake  Ogwen  is  more  open,  and  more  easily  accessible, 
and  there  is  one  house  tolerably  near.  You  fish  the  lake 
from  a  boat,  and  in  the  absence  of  an  oarsman — and  there  is- 
no  such  thing  in  the  locality — you  heave  a  block  of  granite 
attached  to  a  rope  over  the  windward  gunwale,  and  let  the 
shallop  drift. 

On  the  Whit-Monday  morning  with  which  we  are  now 
concerned  the  mountains  were  hooded  as  if  with  gigantic 
masses  of  cotton-wool,  curling  slowly  into  fantastic  figures, 
dispersing  and  gathering,  stealing  down  towards  the  valley, 
trailing  over  the  faces  of  the  rocks,  and  performing  a 
thousand  weird  movements.  The  wind  began  to  blow  from 
the  gorges,  cutting  you  like  a  knife.  Having  pulled  the 
clumsy  dingy  half  a  mile  in  the  eye  of  the  wind,  I  was  not 
slightly  provoked  to  find  the  quickening  blasts  converting 
me,  as  I  stood  waiting  for  a  lull,  into  a  sail,  and  the  boat, 
notwithstanding  the  granite  drag,  hastening  back  at  a  pro- 
digious rate,  and  threatening  shipwreck  upon  a  cluster  of 
serrated  crags  at  the  lower  end.  The  affair  ended  in  an 
hour's  furious  gale,  to  which  the  hapless  angler  was  exposed, 


236  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

there  being  no  possibility  of  pulling  ashore,  and  no  cover 
under  the  mountain,  at  whose  lee-foot  the  boat  lay  partly 
beached.  Then  the  gale,  quickly  running  down  the  chro- 
matic scale  of  Boreas,  whispered  itself  seaward.  The  sun  at 
last  came  out,  not  with  the  open  and  frank  countenance  of  a 
friend,  but  with  the  pallid  cheeks  of  a  conspirator. 

Now,  or  never,  was  the  time  to  put  off  once  more,  and  soon 
the  flies,  five  in  number  (as  you  may  make  them  on  this  weed- 
less  water),  were  tripping  lightly  to  and  fro.  Thirty  minutes 
of  sun,  even  if  feeble,  and  sport,  even  if  in  moderation, 
are  helps  to  endurance,  and  sets-off  against  a  drenched  skin. 
In  that  space  I  had  caught  fifteen  trout  of  a  peculiar  kind — 
very  yellow,  very  thin  for  their  length,  very  greedy  after  the 
fly,  very  stupid  when  hooked,  very  slippery  when  handled. 
If  I  add  that  the  fish  weighed  three  pounds  gross  weight, 
there  will  be  no  injustice  done  as  between  man  and  trout. 

The  last  fish  was  being  played  when,  as  an  effective  finale, 
a  hailstorm  burst.  I  had  been  too  intent  upon  fishing  to 
notice  it  brewing  overhead,  but  it  speedily  gave  me  a  taste 
of  its  quality.  Of  course  the  boat  was  the  farthest  possible 
point  from  land ;  of  course  I  was  the  longest  possible  time 
in  hauling  in  the  granitic  contrivance  ;  of  course  the  wind 
mastered  the  oars  ;  of  course  everything  went  wrong.  The 
discharge  of  the  Storm-King's  extra-sized  small  shot  caused 
acute  pain  to  face,  hands,  and  neck,  and  drove  me  huddled 
and  heedless  into  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  which  went 
whithersoever  it  listed,  and  this,  to  sum  up  the  catalogue  of 
woes,  was  on  the  rockiest  part  of  the  foreshore.  Ten  minutes' 
peppering  with  large  hailstones  seemed  a  whole  day  of  pain 
and  discomfort,  and  there  was  an  accompaniment  of  thunder 
and  lightning  that  added  an  element  of  awe  to  the  warfare. 


UNLUCKY  DAYS  IN  WALES.  237 

This  was  a  holiday  not  to  be  forgotten  :  I  did  shorten  it  as 
soon  as  the  storm  abated,  and  sought  shelter  in  the  cottage. 

Through  its  green  glass  window  panes,  long  after  com- 
parative serenity  had  succeeded  to  our  elevation,  we  could 
see  the  pale  blue  forks  cleaving  the  clouds  far  down  the 
valley,  and  every  token  of  a  repetition  of  the  commotion 
which  had  visited  us.  The  masses  of  cotton-wool,  no  longer 
white,  brooded  henceforth  slate  coloured  and  sullenly  over 
all  the  hills,  and  bird  and  beast  had  vanished  from  sight 
and  sound  when  the  homeward  walk  was,  in  dampness  and 
shivering,  prosecuted. 

The  main  result  of  my  visit  to  Llangorst  Pool  was  to 
induce  a  deep-rooted  scepticism  on  the  subject  of  water- 
proof clothing,  and  sincere  pity  for  two  unoffending  friends 
whom  I  had  tempted  from  the  hotel  fireside  with  exciting 
promises  of  sport,  and  positive  assurances  that  the  weather 
would  be  fine,  and  the  scenery  observable  under  the  most 
favourable  auspices.  This,  to  be  sure,  was  a  daring  thing 
to  do  in  February,  but  the  weather-glass  in  the  hall,  and  the 
weather-glass  aloft,  to  say  nothing  of  the  head  boots,  backed 
me  in  my  honestly-meant  persuasions.  And  we  departed 
at  noon,  and  took  train  to  Tallybont  station. 

Merthyr  Tydvil  is  a  metropolis  truly,  but  it  is  the  metro- 
polis of  coal  and  iron.  Even  when  the  grimy  workers  are 
contentedly  toiling,  the  town  is  the  reverse  of  cheerful  ot 
aspect;  when  they  are  on  strike,  when  the  great  blast 
furnaces  are  blown  out,  and  trade  is  stagnant,  it  cannot  be 
said  that  additional  liveliness  has  been  secured.  But  down 
the  valley  through  which  the  Brecon  railway  has  been  laid 
you  very  quickly  reach  fine  scenery,  which  you  appreciate 
all  the  more,  perhaps,  because  of  distant  views  of  chimneys 


238  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

belching  forth  serpent  coils  of  dense  smoke.  This  I  pointed 
out  to  my  trusty  and,  alas  !  trusting  companions,  with  the 
laudable  desire  to  divert  their  attention  from  numerous  ugly 
appearances  overhead.  For  the  turn  of  noon  was  stealthily 
lowering  a  curtain,  first  of  gauze,  then  of  more  thickly  spun 
veilwork,  till  hill  and  vale,  streamlet  and  lake,  were  alike 
hidden  from  view. 

A  little  local  knowledge,  or  any  improvised  plausibleness 
that  will  pass  as  such,  is  a  boon  under  such  circumstances, 
though  one  is  apt  to  find  out  that  a  little  knowledge  is,  as 
forsooth  it  has  been  from  the  time  of  Adam,  a  dangerous 
thing.  All  I  know  of  Llangorst  Pool  I  nevertheless  place 
at  the  disposal  of  my  companions,  but  my  data,  even  when 
drawn  out  like  thin  wire,  do  not  go  far.  The  Welsh  name 
of  this  water  is  Llyn  Savaddon ;  it  is  three  miles  long,  and 
a  mile  across  at  the  widest  place.  Although  there  are 
numerous  legends  connected  with  it,  the  only  one  I  can 
recall,  now  that  of  all  times  they  are  needed,  is  that  the 
waters  rest  upon  a  deeply-buried  city.  One  of  my  com- 
panions has  heard  the  same  story  of  an  Irish  lake,  and 
makes  game  of  the  whole  pretence. 

He  gets  more  interested  at  the  stores  of  eels,  perch,  and 
pike,  which  I  vouch  have  roamed  the  pool  since  the  days  of 
the  good  monks  of  Llanthony,  and  becomes  almost  hopeful 
when  informed  that  the  place  is  credited  with  pike  of  any 
size  up  to  5olb.  He  remembers,  he  says,  a  paragraph  not 
a  fortnight  since  in  a  London  paper  recording  the  capture 
of  one  of  24lb.  from  Llangorst;  hopes  I  have  been  careful 
to  bring  the  gaff;  thinks  if  my  bag  is  too  small  we  may 
borrow  or  purchase  a  market  basket  or  potato-sack. 

Dissembling,  however,  could  be  continued  no  longer.     It 


UNLUCKY  DAYS  IN  WALES.  239 

began  to  rain  hard  and  straight,  and  I  was  weatherwise 
enough  to  be  sure  that  it  would  rain  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 
Better  have  told  those  young  men  to  wait  in  the  warmth  of 
the  station  refreshment  room  till  I  came  back ;  better  even 
have  myself  taken  the  next  returning  train.  But  hope 
springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast. 

"  Fifty  pounds,  I  think  you  said  ?"  observed  the  friend  who 
knew  all  about  the  Irish  lakes,  as  he  resolutely  tucked  up 
his  trousers. 

It  was  this  phantom  that  inspired  him  to  follow  us  through 
those  sodden  meadows  and  slippery  marshes  into  the  rain- 
beaten  village  nearest  the  pool.  The  other  friend  bore  up 
manfully  till  he  reached  the  tavern  settle,  and  then  he 
brought  up  to  his  moorings  under  a  wharfage  of  smoked 
bacon,  wishing  us  luck,  and  requesting  to  be  awakened,  if  he 
slept,  when  we  returned  with  the  game. 

"  Fifty  pounds  is  a  fine  fish,  old  fellow,"  the  more  hopeful 
companion  said  as  we  trudged  through  mire  and  rain.  He 
could  think  of  nothing  but  that.  Sympathy  I  could  tender 
him  none,  having  just  discovered  that  a  new  waterproof  suit 
warranted  to  stand  fast,  let  in  water  like  a  sieve,  and  being 
mentally  engaged  in  debating  whether  there  is  anything 
in  the  world  so  thoroughly  illustrative  of  "  adding  insult  to 
injury"  as  a  waterproof  garment  that  assists  the  rainfall 
to  saturate  you. 

A  brave  little  Welsh  boy,  as  we  stand  lingering  shivering  on 
the  brink,  offers  to  pull  us  out  into  Llangorst  Pool.  His  offer 
is  accepted,  and  I  work  like  a  galley  slave  with  the  rod  and 
spinning  tackle.  There  are  two  other  water  parties,  but  they 
are  coming  in,  and  without  waiting  to  be  asked  they  tender 
the  tidings  "  Not  a  touch  to-day. "  The  assurance  from  one 


2 40  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

gentleman  who  had  given  over  fishing  and  was  dangling  his 
spoon  over  the  stern,  to  the  effect  that  the  pool  was  full  of 
pike,  and  that  he  had  caught  ten  prime  fish  yesterday,  was 
not  received  with  that  genial  delight  one  sportsman  should 
feel  in  the  prosperity  of  another.  My  friend,  couched  under 
the  umbrella  in  the  bows,  surveyed  me  with  grim  speech- 
lessness,  and  smiled.  Thank  goodness,  he  referred  no  more 
to  the  abnormally  high  maximum  I  had  given  him  to  repre- 
sent the  weight  of  the  Llangorst  monsters.  Yet  I  had  read 
the  same  in  honest  printer's  type. 

The  afternoon,  in  short,  was  the  deadest  of  blanks ;  it 
rained  incessantly.  The  road  by  which,  at  the  expense  of 
an  additional  half  mile,  we  avoided  the  terrors  of  mead 
and  bog  on  our  return,  was  more  unpleasant  than  our  former 
route  ;  the  trains  were  late ;  the  whole  prospect  blurred 
and  blotted.  I  have  a  vivid  remembrance  of  that  unlucky 
Saturday ;  for  I  ruined  a  new  hat,  caught  a  severe  catarrh, 
found  out  that  the  waterproof  man  had  cheated  me,  and 
have  reason  to  believe — no  friendly  communication  having 
been  received  from  him  since — that  I  mortally  offended  an 
intelligent  and  useful  acquaintance  because  of  that  fifty- 
pound  pike. 


PRACTICAL  NOTES  ON  WELSH  WATERS. 
Having  determined  to  write  the  history  in  brief  of  three 
unlucky  days  in  Wales,  and  having  fulfilled  my  purpose,  I 
must,  in  justice  to  Wales,  hasten  to  show  that  there  is  a 
reverse  side  to  the  picture  of  its  angling  capabilities.  Days, 
happily  the  opposite  of  those  I  have  described,  have  I 
enjoyed  as  regards  both  weather  and  sport.  Wales  can  still 


UNLUCKY  DAYS  IN  WALES.  241 

you,  as  in  the  olden  days,  prime  trout  and  salmon 
angling,  but  it  is  always  wiser  to  push  farther  than  the 
beaten  track  of  tourists.  The  strongest  claim  the  country 
lias  upon  English  anglers  is  its  nearness  to  them.  Leaving 
Euston  at  night,  you  may  be  casting  a  fly  upon  mountain 
lakes  by  breakfast  time  next  morning.  Salmon  used  to  be 
to  Welshmen  what  bales  of  cloth  are  to  the  Central  Africans 
— specie  payment.  Hence  the  lines  : — 

"  Though  weak  and  fragile,  now  I'm  found 
With  foaming  ocean's  waves  around, 
In  retribution's  hour  I'll  be 
Three  hundred  salmon's  worth  to  thee." 

Let  the  angler  get  up  into  the  mountains,  and  be  prepared 
to  rough  it,  securing  a  lift  by  coach  or  cart  as  opportunity 
offers.  The  loneliness  of  the  land  will  be  compensated  for 
by  the  finny  company  in  the  streams.  Carnarvonshire  is 
a  rare  country  for  artists  and  fishermen  ;  and  Merionethshire 
and  Denbighshire  abutting  upon  it  are  scarcely  inferior. 
Dolgelly,  Bangor,  Aberystwith,  Barmouth,  and  Betts-y-Coed 
are  serviceable  head-quarters.  In  South  Wales,  especially 
in  Glamorganshire,  the  collieries  and  mineral  workings  have 
ruined  many  a  fishing  stream,  but  outside  of  the  mineral 
basin,  and  even  on  the  hills  within  it,  trout  may  yet  be 
found,  and  are  frequently  potted  by  prowling  pitmen  filching 
them  from  under  the  stones,  when  other  means  of  obtaining 
them  fail.  In  Carmarthenshire  there  are  the  Towy  and 
Tave ;  Radnorshire  receives  the  Wye  eighteen  miles  out 
from  Plinlimmon,  and  there  are  many  small  streams  and 
lakes  in  the  county;  Brecknockshire  is  rich  with  Wye  and 
Usk. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

OUR    CLOSING    DAY. 

"  Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 

And  never  brought  to  min'  ? 
Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 

And  days  o'  lang  syne  ? 
We'll  tak  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet 
For  auld  lang  syne  ! " 

NOT  to  the  waterside  at  all  must  the  reader — kind,  intelli- 
gent, and  indulgent,  of  course — be  now  transferred,  but  to 
a  warm,  well-lighted  apartment  to  which  he  has  been  afore- 
time introduced.  On  the  last  night  of  March,  it  may  be 
remembered,  a  united  family,  not  ashamed  to  avow  them- 
selves followers  o»f  quaint,  pure-hearted  Izaak  Walton, 
whose  nature  was  eminently  unselfish,  assembled  amidst 
their  piscatorial  trophies  on  the  eve  of  their  "opening 
day." 

Since  that  occasion  three  of  the  four  seasons^have  sped 
their  allotted  course.  It  was  an  occasion  for  the  putting 
on  of  harness,  just  as  the  present  is  the  time  when  the 
waterside  warriors  have  met  to  lay  it  aside,[and,  so  to  speak, 
place  their  weapons  on  the  rack.  The  twenty-eightTpound 
pike,  that  great  perch,  the  bellows-shaped  bream,  the  dark 
fat  tench,  the  burly-shouldered  chub,  and  the  handsome 
trout  maintain  their  fixed  expression  upon  the  walls.  The 
hand  of  change  touches  them  not.  Two,  however,  of  the 
angling  brotherhood  have  for  ever  laid  down  the  rod  since 


OUR  CLOSING  DAK  243 

the  year  opened,  although  both  were  merry  and  hale  on 
that  ist  of  April  expedition  by  the  waterside.  Though 
their  places  have  been  filled,  our  departed  friends  are  not 
forgotten ;  on  the  contrary,  as  we  stand  in  informal  groups 
around  the  fire,  awaiting  the  expected  summons,  their 
good  qualities  are  lauded  and  their  skill  is  sadly  remem- 
bered. 

In  due  time  the  cloth  is  removed,  and  preparations  are 
made  for  "  a  night  of  it."  We  are  very  old-fashioned  and 
conservative  here,  as  we  have  been  any  time  these  last  fifty 
years.  A  few  of  the  very  young  brethren  have  incurred  the 
pity  of  the  majority  by  drinking  claret  during  the  feast,  and 
they  now  are  given  up  as  hopeless  because  they  produce 
elegant  cigar  cases,  and  talk  of  Partagas  and  other  fashion- 
able brands.  Rare  old  brown  sherry,  port  with  real  bees' 
wing,  and  ripe,  fragrant  Madeira  have  been  circulated 
amongst  the  veterans,  and  now  nothing  but  the  longest  of 
churchwarden  pipes,  artfully  twisted  spills  quite  a  yard  long, 
tobacco  on  small  trays,  and  an  open  line  of  glimmering 
night  lights  posted  down  the  centre  of  the  mahogany,  with 
mighty  bowls  of  punch  such  as  this  generation  seldom  sees, 
will  satisfy  the  traditions  of  past  gatherings,  and  the  tastes 
of  present  feasters. 

We  are  very  practical.  The  president  raps  the  table  with 
an  ivory  mallet  and  says  "  Gentlemen,  '  The  Queen.' " 
We  rise  and  say  "  The  Queen/'  sip,  and  sit  again.  "  Gen- 
tlemen, the  secretary  will  make  his  annual  statement,"  says 
the  president.  Thereupon  we  are  informed  that  the  past 
season,  like  the  season  before  it,  was  a  miserable  time  lor 
anglers.  Last  year  there  was  too  much  rain ;  this  year 
there  has  not  been  enough.  The  fly-fishers  who  had 


244  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

travelled  far  and  wide  had  found  the  trout  streams  barren 
and  dry  ;  the  bottom-fishers  had  been  scorned  by  the  roach, 
put  to  shame  by  the  perch,  and  left  in  the  lurch  by  the 
barbel.  The  pike-fishers  still  lived  in  hope,  but  until 
sharp  frost  cut  down  the  weeds,  and  floods  washed  them 
away,  the  angler  could  not  be  said  to  have  a  fair 
chance. 

"  Gentlemen,  pipes,"  laconically,  and  formally  rising,  now 
observes  the  president.  This  is  tantamount  to  the  military 
"  stand  easy,"  and  clouds  arise  and  tongues  are  loosened 
without  a  moment's  delay.  Every  member  is  required  to 
contribute  to  the  entertainment  of  the  general  body,  begin- 
ning with  the  oldest  and  proceeding  down  the  incline  of 
seniority.  Thus  no  time  is  wasted  in  profuse  excuses  or 
affected  apologies.  You  may  sing,  or  perpetrate  a  speech, 
or  recite,  or  stand  on  your  head,  but  you  must  do  some- 
thing, and  bring  your  contribution  within  a  hard  and  fast 
compass  of  five  minutes. 

The  fence-line  of  three  score  years  and  ten  has  been 
passed  by  our  patriarch — the  dear  old  man  of  whom  we 
are  all  so  proud,  who  was  never  known  to  lose  his  temper, 
to  do  his  fellow  an  evil  turn,  or  to  pass  the  bottle ;  who 
this  very  autumn  sent  up  from  the  Shropshire  streams  a 
fine  dish  of  grayling  caught  by  himself,  with  flies  of  his  own 
making.  He  is  a  "  character/'  and  has  an  unfaltering  belief 
in  the  old  times. 

"  I'm  an  old-fashioned  fogey,"  he  tells  us,  "  but  I  don't 
think  you  youngsters  are  as  jolly  or  genuine  as  the  anglers 
of  my  early  days.  You  are  over-wise  in  your  own  conceits, 
bless  your  hearts ;  but  it's  only  theory.  You  read  more, 
but  you  modern  anglers  are  not  half  as  good  naturalists  as 


OUR  CL OSING  DA Y.  245 

your  fathers  were.  You  can  give  the  scientific  name  of  a 
polecat,  but  you  never  saw  it,  and  if  you  met  one  walking 
down  Regent  Street  you  wouldn't  know  what  it  was.  Now, 
when  I  was  a  young  man  I  shot  a  polecat  in  the  very  copse 
some  of  you  know  so  well  at  the  back  of  the  osier-bed.  I 
doubt  whether  you  know  a  hawk  from  a  handsaw." 

Here  our  gay  comrade,  who  is  nothing  if  not  Shakespearian, 
interposes  "  Hernshaw,  not  handsaw."  General  laughter 
succeeds,  in  which  the  patriarch  joining  continues  : — 

"There  you  are.  It's  precisely  what  I  mean — you 
youngsters  know  too  much.  I  say  handsaw,  and  stick  to  it. 
But  there,  it  isn't  your  fault  altogether ;  the  world  moves  on 
and  things  change.  The  time  is  past  when  a  kingfisher 
perches  in  confidence  on  the  rod  of  an  angler,  as  I  have 
known  it  to  do.  But  it's  all  right,  and  I'm  delighted  to  be 
here  once  more.  I  can't  throw  a  trolling  bait  any  longer, 
and  I've  as  much  as  I  can  do  to  see  a  rise  a  dozen  yards  off 
if  there's  a  ripple,  but  I  enjoy  my  summer  outings  and  the 
soft  winds  as  much  as  any ;  and  if  I  can't  wade  in  a  swift 
stream  or  do  a  day's  spinning,  I  can  nick  a  grayling  with 
the  best  of  you."  And  indeed  he  can  ;  and  the  old  man 
hopes  that  God  will  bless  us  all,  and  that  when  we  are  in 
our  seventy-second  year  \ve  shall  be  as  hearty  and  happy  as 
he  is.  To  which  we  add  an  internal  "  Amen"  in  the  midst 
of  the  applause. 

The  next  gentleman  would  make  a  splendid  backwoods- 
man, if  six  feet  two  of  straight  lissome  framework  and  an 
unquenchable  love  of  field  sports  count  for  anything.  Yet 
he  has  a  gentle  soul  in  that  long  muscular  body,  and  says 
the  tenderest  things  in  a  wonderfully  sentimental  voice. 
The  voice  lifted  into  song  is  sweet  as  the  pipe  of  an 


246  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

Arcadian  shepherd.      Though   essentially  a  town-suckled, 
town-bred,  and  town-loving  man,  he  thus  warbles  : — 

"  Give  me  the  brook  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains, 

Where  cool,  sparkling  waters  spring  fresh  from  the  hill  ; 

Give  eddying  scours,  cascade-hollowed  fountains, 
And  rills  rushing  down  through  the  glen  to  the  mill. 

There's  a  maid  at  the  mill ;  there's  a  trout  in  the  stream  ; 

For  the  trout  will  I  whip  ;  of  the  maid  let  me  dream. 

"  Ah  !  tell  me  no  more  of  glory  or  duty, 

Of  vict'ries  of  peace,  or  triumphs  of  war ; 
Mv  mountain-born  fish,  my  mill-nurtured  beauty 

Are  the  only  delights  that  tempt  from  afar. 
Yes ;  the  maid  of  the  mill  and  the  trout  of  the  stream 
Where'er  I  may  roam  ever  rise  in  my  dream. 

*'  The  trout  it  is  said  loves  bright  summer  weather, 

And  merrily  plays  at  the  opening  of  day; 
So  stroll  I  to  where  the  brooks  join  together, 

And  wrong  would  you  be  should  you  tauntingly  say 
'Tis  the  maid  at  the  mill,  not  the  trout  in  the  stream, 
That  hastens  my  footsteps  at  dawning's  grey  gleam. 

"  My  first  cast  falls  on  the  hurrying  water, 

An  old  casement  creaks  'neath  the  time-honoured  eaves — 
A  miss  !  and  thy  fault,  O  miller's  fair  daughter, 

Peeping  out  from  thy  bower  of  dew-covered  leaves. 
Witching  maid  of  the  mill !     Lucky  trout  of  the  stream  ! 
The  angler  fares  ill  who  of  maidens  will  dream. 

"Lo  !  here  by  this  spot,  where  merry  trout  gambol, 
At  noon  lies  the  only  protection  from  heat  : 

At  evening,  perforce,  I  hitherward  ramble — 

Is  not  the  quick  flash  of  the  water-wheel  sweet  ? 

Hush !     The  maid  of  the  mill  walks  forth  by  the  stream  ; 

Shall  I  follow  ?     Or  still  idly  angle — and  dream  ? 


OUR  CLOSING  DAY.  247 

•*'  Given  is  the  brook  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains, 

Where  cool,  sparkling  watersJspring'Tresh  from  the  hill ; 
Given  eddies  and  scours,  and  cascades^and  fountains, 

For  they  all  rush  down  through  the  glen  to  the  mill — 
And  I  live  at  the  mill,  whipping  trout  from  the  stream : 
I  followed,  was  hooked,  and  need  nevermore  dream." 

To  the  sentimental  backwoodsman  succeeds  one  who, 
instead  of  a  prosy  conveyancer,  should  have  been,  as 
nature  intended  him,  something  in  the  comic  line  of  life. 
He  does  not  sing  a  comic  song  now,  however,  since  he 
knows  he  will  by-and-by  be  called  upon  willy  nilly  to 
repeat  certain  old  favourites  of  thatulk.  The  truth  is  he 
has  for  a  week  been  preparing  a  string  of  wretched  puns, 
•which  he  thus  runs  off  the  reel,  drolly  emphasising  the  words 
italicised :  "  Gentlemen,  I  hope  no^'one  will  carp  at  what 
I'm  about  to  say,  or  think  my  remarks  an  enc-/w<r//-ment. 
Is  it  not  a  fact  in  natural  history  that  every  Jack  has  his 
Gill  ?  It  is  not  every  acute  angle-*  who  can  keep  a  pike,  or 
say  with  \hzjudicious  Hooker, 

"  '  I  had  a  bream,  a  whacking  bream, 
I  dreamt  that  I  had  three.' 

Before  sitting  down  I  should  like  to~state  my  m-tench-ion  of 
.presenting  to  you,  though  not  by  any  means  as  an  eefemosy- 
nary  affair,  a  copy  of  Mrs.  Barbel 's  ( Dace  abroad  and 
.evenings  at  home,'  bound  in  gut-\&  perch-z. ;  also  to  observe 
that  the  true  motto  for  every  angler  is  Tm  a  float.  The 
fact  is  "— 

The  fact  was  that  the  company  would  have  no  more 
rubbish  of  this  sample,  though  the  word-torturer  subsequently 
:confided  to  me  that  his  most  effective  abominations  were 
.unsaid.  We,  however — the  conveyancer's  cheap  wit  must 


248  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

be  the  excuse  for  the  simile — only  jumped  from  the  frying- 
pan  into  the  fire,  inasmuch  as  the  next  three  entertainers 
were  terribly  dull  dogs.  One  of  them  floundered  (why  did 
not  the  conveyancer  try  to  work  in  the  flounder  ?)  through 
two  sentences,  and  broke  hopelessly  down ;  the  other  recited 
a  soliloquy  on  "  The  chief  purpose  of  man " ;  the  third,, 
who  had  a  voice  like  a  saw-sharpener,  dashed  into  "  Where 
the  bee  sucks/'  screeching  in  the  most  excruciating  fashion 
the  long  run  on  the  last  word  in  the  Bat's  back  line. 

At  this  stage  of  the  proceedings  there  was  a  universal 
desire  for  a  melody,  in  which  a  chorus-singer  might  hear  of 
something  to  his  advantage,  and  the  member  whose  turn 
came  next  happened  to  be  just  the  fellow  for  the  crisis. 
Swinging  his  pipe  and  looking  round  with  a  now-then-all- 
together  air,  he  roared  in  stentorian  harmony  : — 

"  Now  Johnny  the  angler's  a  jolly  lad — hurrah !  hurrah  ! 
He's  never  disheartened  and  never  sad— hurrah !  hurrah  ! 
He's  out  of  the  racket  of  trouble  and  toil ; 
He's  king  of  the  water  if  not  of  the  soil : 

And  light  in  his  step  when  Johnny  comes  marching  home/* 

There  were  eight  verses  of  this  home-spun  material,  the  last 
stanza  containing  the  inevitable  moral,  in  which  the  author 
suggested  that  there  could  not  be  a  better  all-round  bait 
for  the  angler  than  contentment,  and  laid  down  the  in- 
disputable axiom  that  "Fair-play  is  a  jewel  for  fishes  or 
men."  Probably  this  was  the  most  roughly  constructed 
song  sung  during  the  evening,  but  nothing  could  exceed 
the  gusto  with  which  the  "responses7'  were  taken  up,  or 
the  fine  effect  produced  by  the  raps  dealt  out  to  the 
table  as  a  suitable  accompaniment  to  "hurrah!  hurrah!" 
Another  member  chanted  in  a  sort  of  Gregorian  the  story  of 


OUR  CLOSING  DAY.  249 

poor  "  Cock  Robin,"  and  at  the  end  of  every  verse  the 
whole  company,  taking  their  parts  like  a  well-trained  choir, 
gave  a  pretty  melancholy  refrain  : — 

"  All  the  birds  in  the  air  fell  a  sighing  and  sobbing 
When  they  heard  of  the  death  of  poor  Cock  Robin." 

True,  sobbing  according  to  usage  does  not  strictly  rhyme 
with  Robin,  but  we  were  not  fastidious,  and  were  not  tired, 
although  the  verses  were  just  as  numerous  as  the  birds, 
beasts,  and  fishes  who  were  concerned  with  the  tragic 
decease  and  touching  interment  of  the  defunct  Redbreast. 
The  late  Mr.  AVeiss  himself  could  not  have  sung  the 
4 'Village  Blacksmith"  better  than  it  was  given,  and  there 
was  one  who  came  so  close  to  reality  in  his  imitation  of  the 
veteran  Ransford  that  it  was  necessary  to  look  a  second 
time  to  decide  whether  it  was  not  that  splendid  interpreter 
of  Dibdin  who  sang  and  acted  "Tom  Tough."  Next  to 
the  Cock  Robin  chant  in  popularity  amongst  the  chorus- 
singers  was  a  singularly  quaint  and  catching  slave  song 
brought  by  a  young  member  from  Carolina,  where  he  had 
heard  it  sung  by  the  plantation  hands.  The  general 
burden  of  the  solo  I  have  forgotten,  but  the  chorus  printed 
itself  upon  the  memory  at  once,  and  I  fancy  it  gives  a 
pretty  clear  notion  of  the  rest : — 

"  There's  a  good  time  coming  and  it's  almost  nigh, 

It's  a  long,  long  time  on  its  way. 
Then  go  and  tell  Elijah  to  hurry  up  Pomp 
And  meet  us  at  the  gum-tree  down  by  the  Swamp, 

To  wake  Nicodemus  to-day." 

There  are  aggrieved  anglers  as  well  as  parishioners,  and 
our  aggrieved  member  carried  the  meeting  entirely  with 


250  WATERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

him  on  introducing  the  great  live-bait  question.  This  he 
maintained  was  the  question  of  the  day,  and  though  he 
hesitated  to  commit  himself  to  a  definite  statement,  he 
broadly  hinted  that  Government  must  sooner  or  later  take 
it  up.  Giving  head  to  the  righteous  indignation  which 
rippled  through  his  voice  he  graphically  depicted  the 
mingled  horror,  disgust,  and  disappointment  suffered  by 
honest  anglers  who  were  unable  to  secure  live-bait  for  love 
or  money.  A  pretty  state  of  things,  forsooth  !  Here  were 
hundreds  of  fine  fellows  who  spend  the  Sunday  meditating 
calmly  by  the  murmuring  river,  and  innocently  angling, 
who  must  be  robbed  of  their  enjoyment  if  the  fishing  tackle 
shops  could  not  procure  live-bait.  If  there  were  laws 
-against  the  capture  of  small  fish  let  the  laws  be  altered ; 
what  was  the  use  of  Government  if  the  wants  of  the  people 
were  not  supplied  ?  The  author  of  these  ideas  of  political 
economy  worked  himself  into  such  a  passion  that  his  five 
minutes  had  expired  before  he  could  arrive  at  the  one  or 
two  practical  suggestions  he  intended  to  make. 

The  gentleman  next  in  order  trolled  a  song  (written  by 
Mr.  G.  Manville  Fenn)  which  was  twice  encored,  for  it 
was  new  and  bright  and  capitally  rendered  : — 

THE   FISHING  PHILOSOPHER. 

"  To  tramp  the  wet  turnips,  and  pepper  a  bird  ; 
Or  butcher  tame  pheasants  to  me  seems  absurd  : 
Give  me  the  soft  streamlet,  meandering  by, 
Where  I  can  take  trout  with  a  well-chosen  fly : 

"And  my  rod  light  and  limber,  my  line  true  and  fine, 
My  creel  on  my  back,  and  a  scrap  when  I'd  dine ; 
Sweet  Nature  around  me  ;  the  world's  troubles  far ; 
Believe  me  we  fishers  philosophers  are  ! 


OUR  CLOSING  DAY.  251 

"  With  beagle,  or  greyhound,  go  hunt  puss,  the  hare, 
Or  chase,  in  gay  scarlet,  the  fox  to  his  lair ; 
Give  me  my  roach  tackle  ;  of  ground  bait  a  heap  ; 
A  fig  for  all  else,  be  the  stream  swift  and  deep  : 

"  For  my  rod  light  and  limber,  &c. 

"  You  may  shoot,  you  may  hunt,  you  may  stalk  the  red  deer  ; 
Let  me  list  to  the  music  of  some  falling  weir, 
While  I  tempt  the  sly  chub,  the  fat  barbel,  and  jack, 
Oh !  I  envy  no  king  if  I  bear  a  few  back  : 

"  With  my  rod  light  and  limber,  &c." 

That  gallant  acquaintance,  the  gay  comrade,  was  observed 
closely,  and  his  friends  knew  by  the  dignified  reserve  en- 
nobling his  brow  that  that  tempered  brain  had  prepared  for 
us  an  intellectual  treat.  He  had  dealt  with  what  may  be 
termed  the  melodramatic  aspect  of  the  recreation  to  which 
we  were  all  devoted.  He"poured  out  his  soul  in  recitation, 
thus  :— 

"  I  greet  thee,  friend,  upon  this  autumn  day, 
And  give  thee  welcome  to  this  sheltered  lake. 
Here  for  a  season  let  us  haply  stay, 
Of  this  good  weed — Returns — I  pr'ythee  take. 
So  gaze  we  now  upon  the  tinted  leaves 
Which  mix  their  colours  by  their  own  good  law. 
Breathes  there  the  man  who  in  his  heart  believes 
That  Providence  is  not  above  us  ?     Psha  ! 
Fill  up  thy  pipe,  thou  tall,  thou  goodly  youth, 
And  strike  a  light  upon  this  roughened  edge. 
See'st  thou  the  float  ? 

"  Alack  in  naked  truth 

It  still  bobs  pikeless  near  yon  fringe  of  sedge. 
Now  let  us  therefore  our  discourse  resume. 
Another  light  ?     With  pleasure  ;  strike  it  low  ; 
(The  worst  of  fusees  is  their — well — perfume.) 
Those  drifting  clouds  are  white  as  driven  snow. 
What  is  the  theory  of  wind,  of  heat,  of  cold  ? 
Why  points  the  needle  to  the  northern  pole  ? 


2  5  ^  WA  TERSIDE  SKETCHES. 

To  deal  with  these  a  man  must  needs  be  bold. 

Pray  sink  the  bait  can  in  that  nearest  hole, 

Else  will  those  gudgeon  prematurely  die, 

Nor  roach  nor  dace  their  little  span  will  save. 

I'll  give  my  bait,  I  think,  another  shy; 

E'er  saw'st  thou  pike  so  cowardly  behave  ? 

Mark  now  these  thirty  yards;  how  neat  they  show, 

Coiled  carefully  upon  the  level  ground — 

One,  two,  three — swish — call'st  thou  not  that  a  throw  ? 

That  should  a  good  fish  take,  if  one's  around. 

Have  you  the  papers  seen  ?  or  Punch  ?  or  Fun  ? 

It  doesn't  matter ;  only  one  gets  dull 

On  hours  of  waiting. 

"  Look  !  by  Jove,  a  run. 

Down  goes  the  float.     See  how  the  pike  can  pull. 
This  is  as  it  should  be.     I  dare  would  bet 
A  heavy  jack  is  running  out  the  line 
Into  deep  water,  into  deeper  yet 
Before  he  gives  a  pause. 

"Let  us  combine. 

To  drink  his  health.     Unscrew  thy  silver  flask 
And  sip  we  lightly  the  ambrosial  tap  ; 
Now  turn  with  caution  to  the  genial  task. 
In  grass  or  sedge  should  we  our  capture  wrap  ? 
Prepare  the  gaff  with  care,  else  do  I  vouch 
Our  prize  may  vanish  at  the  nick  of  time. 
A  little  moment  further  shall  he  pouch  ; 
To  strike  in  haste  is  piscatorial  crime. 
Haul  in  the  line  with  very  cautious  hand  : 
Thus  the  requirements  of  the  case  are  met. 
I'll  show  you  how  a  captured  pike  should  land 
And  you,  the  lesson  learned,  will  not  forget. 
I  gently  strike  soon  as  the  line  is  taut — 
Though  the  barbed  hook  has  doubtless  done  its  work  ; — 
The  bending  rod  denotes  a  finster  caught, 
The  plunging  top  betrays  his  angry  jerk. 
He's  spent,  I  ween,  as  warily  he's  drawn, 
Reluctant,  but  not  hostile,  to  the  shore. 
The  winch  revolves. 

"  Here  on  this  grass-grown  lawn 
Shall  lie  the  prey,  to  murder  fry  no  more. 
The  float  appears  from  the  pellucid  deep, 


OUR  CLOSING  DAY.  253 

Then  comes  the  knot  that  fastens  line  to  trace  ; 

A  moment  yet  and  you  may  snatch  a  peep 

Of  the  hooked  Luce,  now  winching  in  apace. 

About  five  pounds  would  be  a  shrewdish  guess, 

If  one  may  judge  from  shoulder,  fin,  and  tail, 

Which  he  betrays — maybe  a  little  less. 

Ah  !  hapless  fish,  useless  it  is  to  sail 

To  right,  to  left,  with  that  indignant  stroke. 

This  trusty  gaff  was  never  known  to  fail. 

You'll  shortly  find  it  is  no  passing  joke, 

Though  'gainst  your  plight  'tis  not  for  me  to  rail. 

So  so  :  your  yellow  side  is  upward  turned ; 

As  good  you  are  as  numbered  with  the  slain, 

And  you,  good  friend,  the  lesson  well  have  learned — 

Begad,  he's  off!  the  gimp  has  snapped  in  twain." 

By  the  time  that  the  Waltonian  brotherhood  rose,  crossed 
hands,  and  pronounced  that  fine  benediction,  "  Auld  Lang 
Syne,"  they  had  thoroughly  gorged — not  the  meat  and 
drink,  to  which  they  had,  nevertheless,  sensibly  done 
justice,  but — that  bait,  Contentment,  which  had  been  re- 
commended to  them  by  the  Boanergesian  soloist.  So  at 
peace  with  the  world  were  they  that  even  the  Home  Secre- 
tary, at  whose  new  mandate  the  party  was  prematurely  dis- 
solved, was  pardoned  as  a  victim  rather  than  condemned  as 
a  persecutor.  With  all  their  hearts  they  wished  each  other 
health  and  happiness,  abundant  sport  by  the  waterside, 
prosperity  at  home,  and  no  missing  faces  at  the  next  merry 
meeting. 


I 


' 


BOWNESS  &  BOWNESS 

cgf  Wring  J 


HOWNESS'S  SALMON  RODS, 

GREENHE  ART,  from  3o/.  _  _ 

gOJVNESS'S    MAHSEER    RODS 

and  TACKLE  of  every  description. 

See  Thomas's  Book,  "  Rod  in  India? 


SPLfT    CANE 

SALMON   TROUT  ROD^\  -'/i-pcnor 

elongating  Butts. 

ftOWNESS'S    THAMES    SPINNING 
'LJ     P.  vedVi  'ipche^  Paten!  L  mes,  Baits, 

U/iVf.  '.  Y  RODS,  two  tops  best. 


T  and  GRAYLING  FLIES, 

2/~  per  doz. 


SALMON  ad  LOCH  FLIES  in 

/    great  variety.  ___ 

l/l/HALEBONE  LANDING  RINGS 

and  Improved  Nets  that  do  not  catch  the  hooks. 

TACKLE  CASES  fitted  for  all  parts 

the  world.  '  _  *_ 


OWNESS   &"      OWNESS, 
230,  STBAND,near  Temple  Bar,  LONDON. 

Catalogues  gratis.     The  New  Francis  Francis  Fly  Book  and  Flies.