Near and far : an angler's sketches of home sport and colonial life

Front matter

NEAR

AND FAR w

BYW.SENIQ

Prefatory Note

Most of the chapters in this Volume have been extended and re-cast from articles which have appeared in serial publications ; and, with hearty thanks, I hereby acknowledge permission to republish from the proprietors of the Gentleman's Magazine, C as s eW s Family Magazine, the Field, Fishing Gazette, Bell's Life, and the Illustrated Snorting and

Dramatic News.

W. S.

Contents

$ art h

SKETCHES OF HOME SPORT.

Chapter I. On The Faith Of A Paragraph

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East winds and low water — An angling conclave — I travel from Euston to Llanfair— Sunday at Welshpool — A glimpse of Powys Park — Signs of spring — The larch puts forth its green — A fly famine — I catch trout with the March brown — Potted samlet — A take of chub: — A badger on hand I

Chapter II. A March Outing

The drone of the mill-wheel — Nature at the end cf March — Roaming trout in the Test — Dry-fly apostles— The methods of fly-fishing are diverse — Cold nights and scarcity of fly. 17

Chapter III. An Odd Day's Fishing

A lame excuse better than none — Winter pike-fishing, and the winds that blow — Drawing blanks — But in lieu of pike I run some salmon — They are not particular as to bait — Narrow escape of the Kelt — A good pike at last —Also a heavy trout at the finish . . . .22 viii CONTENTS.

Chapter IV. A Snowy Day On The Tamar

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Two hundred and forty miles for a bit of trout-fishing — The sun sets over Bristol Channel — Up the moorland country to Tavistock — The valley of the Tamar — The broad-leaved garlic is in flower — Trout rise at a snow flake — The March brown does most of the work—/ freshly-gorged stone-loach — The spoil outpoured from the basket makes eight brace and a half — The Tamar, Torridge, and Tavy compared 28

Chapter V. Last And First

The coarse fish have rest after March 14th — My host's plantation — Sentimental gush about birds, flowers, and scenery — " Private water"— My comrade is no angler — He is beckoned back to his duty — How the pike takes the live-bait — Fourteen pounds and heavy with spawn — In the little rustic house a curious question is discussed — We go to Four Beeches and whip the trout-stream — The Squire is introduced to his trout — The lazy man gets a dish of perch 35

Chapter VI. A Lay Sermon

The anglers come by train to have a final day — I watch the brethren — Evidences of the forward character of the season — Frog-spawn in the ditches — Exit lapwings, enter wood-pigeons — The patient angler worried by minnows — Walton's recipe for minnow tansy — The erring brothers of the angle — The proprietor of Cursitor Rise delivers a sermon for their behoof . . 43

Chapter VII. First Of April

Hawthorns, blackthorns, and willows — The trout remains in the backwater — The simple-looking man sucks his black pipe — He remembers things — Tim Bridges has

CONTENTS. ix been fined — The rustic wishes luck to the angler— I come forth a little after daylight — If not trout, at least breakfast — A Thames trout is on the table — How the April fool was made — The Alexandra lure . . -52

Chapter VIII. A Lovely June Day

Day-dawn in the Scottish hill-country — The telescopic trout-rod — The burn trout give sport — Jock's criticism — Fish versus fingerlings — A splendid sunrise — A bird's-eye view of Glenalken — The trout rise in the eastern loch — Our baskets therefrom — The big trout of the western loch — Fishing the salt water for lythe and saithe — Sunset towards the ocean — A brisk bit of sport . . 60

Chapter IX. A Quiet Evening

London in July— Cornhill at eleven ; village bridge at half-past four — An out-of-the-way trout stream — The trout in the crowfoot — A rise at the small alder — The weed nuisance — The cottager's garden more profitable than the cherry orchard — Trout in the weir pool — Dark fish in dead water — Red ant and coachman — The quiet evening draws on apace — Choice water for the last . 69

Chapter X. My Saturday Out

The angler's best panacea — Roaching at the osier-bed swim — The veteran's tackle — Meadowsweet, and haymaking— Thunderstorms and fish — Fly-fishing for dace and chub — The tyrant trout amongst the fry — A popular harbour for fish — Tricks of the chub — Styles of Thames, Trent, and Lea — Burdock and coltsfoot — The hooked chub — I go back to the roach-fisherman — His method, and his grand total 75

Chapter XI. The Mill Pool

A bachelor's invitation — Diggings down Essex way — A country drive — Song-birds, jays, rabbits, and gossamer

CONTENTS.

PACK

webs — The mill-pool and how to fish it — Miscellaneous fishing on a September day — An enormous eel — Breamfishing — The dinner-bell is heard with regret . . 82

Chapter XII. The First Frost

A Lord Mayor's Day engagement — The parson is a right good fellow — We take a surreptitious Sabbath ride — A homely little pond — The woodland brook — An old-fashioned lake — The river and its salmon — Such a shoal of roach ! — Grayling and pike — Debarred from active exercise — Theories as to white frost — My first two-pound roach — A five-pound pike follows — Scattered autumn leaves — Systematic pike-fishing — The angler is for once satisfied 93

Chapter XIII. A Grayling Expedition

Grayling weather— In the angler-artist's studio — George Herbert's church — Prospects of sport — The river discolours— Rain never ceases — A remarkable gale — Fortune in store for another day — An ideal grayling-ford — Some remarks on fly-fishing for grayling — To him who waits — The lost hook-point — A simple pike-tackle ■ — Justifiable boasting 103

Chapter XIV. The Old Spot Revisited

The changes of a score of years — The most roachwise of mortals — Fast in a fish — A two-pound grayling is caught — A night of storm — The mistakes of a first cast — An overspun pike — South-west gales — Success in spite of difficulties — Floundering home through the water-meads — The doctor, keepers, &c, lose their bet 1 1 2

Chapter XV. Winter Angling

The true heart of a sportsman — Sport through tribulation — ■ The mild winter — Winter, the pike-fisher's privilege —

CONTENTS. xi

PAGE

Trolling with a gorge bait, unsportsmanlike, but ancient — Nobbes' "Art of Trolling" — Spinning, the highest branch — The pike in history — Pike-stories examined — W. Barry's description of an angling club • — Mr. Henderson's narrative — Midwinter fly-fishing ■ — The scientific bottom-fisher — The perch and its character , 124

Chapter Xvi- Weather Wisdom

Rules concerning weather — Old World authors on sport — Opinions of Dame Juliana Barnes, Leonard Mascall, John Dennys, Thomas Shirley, T. F. Salter, gent., Dr. Davy — The influence of snow upon angling — The black frost — Fishing in a white fog — Violent changes — Fox stratagems 139

Chapter XVII. Christmas Puffs

Tobacco burned by the waterside — Sport seen in the puffs of an angler's pipe — Sir Ford North's speech at the Fly-fishers' Club — Christmas angling from the armchair — Anglers' memories — Boyhood's exploits— Neither Boards nor Mundellas — The knocked-out ashes inscribed with disgorger 148

$avt ».

SKETCHES OF COLONIAL LIFE.

Chapter I. Trying The Breech-loader

Angling in Sub-tropical Australia — The Colonial auction-room — A Queensland winter — The suburbs of a Colonial city — The leatherhead — The silky oak — Laughing jackass— Sea- mullet— John Chinaman— xii CONTENTS.

Bush — Bittern — Sedge warblers and blood-birds — Blue crane and kingfishers — The Shepherd's Companions— Quails — A Native Birds' Protection Act — Honey-eaters in the scrub — Kangaroos — Parrots in the Banksia — Blue Mountaineers — Crow-shrike — Orioles — Mosquitos and snakes — The black fellow — Horse-breaking 157

Chapter II. River-fishing

Brisbane river — Sharks — Jew-fish — '* Welly nice pish, missee " — Our fishing-boat — Jew- fishing — A miscalled perch — The flathead — The pike-eel — A funny adventure 173

Chapter III. The Horse-hunter

Pastoral pursuits — The so-called wild horse — The harm done to the pastures — Our horse-hunter's method — Running in of horse-herds for taming — The drive — Grass-fed horses — The father of the race — Buck-jumping— An expedition among the ridges — The death-stricken mare — A mischievous rogue — The Nimrod of the district — Rival horses — Kangaroo scalp-hunting . 182

Chapter IV. 'possum-shooting

The settler's sport — Opossums and townships — Varieties of 'possums — Nocturnal habits — The deerhound Major — His skill with the 'possums — Fate of Major — 'Possum-shooting as a sport 196

Chapter V. The Dugong

Moreton Bay — The yacht at anchor — The dugong fishery — What the dugong is like — How it is cut up — Value of the flesh — Practical uses of the carcase— Dugong-oil

CONTENTS. xiii

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and consumption — Manufacturing the oil — Haunts of the dugong — Hunting the bullocks of the sea — Submarine pastures — Harpooning — Strange net-fellows — An outlet for superfluous energy .... 202

Chapter VI. Among The Sugar-canes

Fellow-passengers on the coasting steamer — White swans — The Pioneer river and Mackay — Life of the planter — Sugar-cane is the staple of conversation —My bachelor host — His Kanaka boys — The cane-fields — ■ The mills at work — Sugar cultivation — The converted scrub — Frost an enemy — Planters' hospitality — Fishing for the palmer — Alligators 214

Chapter VII. The Schnapper Party

The Southern Cross — The party on board — The fishing-ground — Preparing for action — Lines out — '' Up lines" — The strongest man the best angler — The schnapper on deck — King-fish — Rock cod — Sharks — A grand fish breakfast — Season for schnapper-fishing . , . 228

Chapter VIII. The Sheep-station

A long journey — A terrible drought — Queensland climate —A typical Colonial township — Coaching through the gloomy bush — Cobb's coaches — The genial squatter — The dusty " insides " — Roma — Isolated belts of pasture— A model sheep-station — British capital upon Australian soil — The vineyard — Merinos — A jog-trot pace — Sore backs — The wild turkey — Shooting from the saddle — A diamond snake — Birds and beasts of the plains — The work of a sheep-run — Dingos and kangaroo rats — Bachelor's quarters — Famished sheep left to their fate — Happy pastures .... 235 xiv CONTENTS.

Chapter IX. A Favourite Fishing-ground

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Swinging in the hammock — The voice of the Pacific — If the sea destroys, it soothes — Black Sam and the baits — A shark -haunted bar — Wading out to angle for sandwhiting — Unexpected marauders prowl by — Basket crammed to the cover — Fishing on the reefs — Black bream — The beardie, and red rock-cod — Australian shell-fish — A legislator's game-bag — Rays springing out of water 254

Chapter X. Camping Out

Our original plan — Enthusiasm of the projectors — The Noosa lakes decided upon — Voyage in the Bidgoa — ■ A Colonial timber firm — We ascend the river — Pelicans and curlews — Shooting the pelican for its skin — The Firm at Cootharaba— Sailing across the lake — The tent is put up — Round the camp fire — Our first meal a success — My kit— The cook of the expedition — Life in camp — Two rival kings— The boat a source of untold pleasure — Dress does not trouble us — Our red-letter day — Flowers on the Pacific coast — Ocean birds — Black swans of the lakes — Sport with rod and gun — Catfish and eels — The timber of Queensland — Open forest and dense scrub — The Noosa pine . . . 261

Chapter XI. A Day With Kangaroos

The Kangaroo a scourge — " Liberty and Kangaroos " — Our friend Cameron — Bush fires — A hullabaloo in the home paddock — Mustering for the excursion — Absolute freedom and delight — Away with the beaters — Driving the marsupials — Up with the gunners — Billy Barlow, the black fellow — Over fallen logs and down steep slopes — Under the ironbark — The double-shotted signal ■ — Aiming low — File-firing — Wholesale slaughter — Varieties ofkangaroo — Thewallaroo — A hunters 'feast 279

CONTENTS. xv

Chapter XII. On A Cattle-station

PAGE

Christmas thunderstorms — The Darling Downs — Bay and brown in the buggy — The verge of the table-land — On the plains — Heavy travelling — Emerging from the flooded land — Wallaby-proof fence — Luscious figs — ■ The station buggy — A masterly whip — Piloted over the creek in flood — Wild duck — The bush racecourse — At the head station — Life amongst cattle — A fray amongst the aboriginals — Sheep v. cattle — The yearly muster — Silver-leaf ironbark country — The paddock — Stud Herefords — Noon-day rest — New Year festivities — The dingo — Wild ducks — Squatter pigeons . . . 290

NEAR AND FAR.

Chapter I. On The Faith Of A Paragraph

Spring fishing was everywhere bad, and the only mitigating thing about it was this — the prospects were so hopeless that anglers generally refused to place themselves within reach of disappointment. They remained at home, hoping for better times, wondering if that terrible east wind would ever blow itself out, and the waters receive purgement and replenishment from warm rain and wholesome flood.

The experienced man would know to a nicety what to expect after a month's cold east wind, with scarcely a shower of rain. He would count his chances, and with mathematical precision pronounce them nil. An east wind of itself is enough to discourage ; but when to it must be added water crystal clear, and at its minimum depth, the data upon which to build a forecast are complete. And this was the state of affairs in the spring to which I refer.

No more will the east wind of the British Islands find friendly apologist in me. I now know him for the ruffian that he is. Formerly, if I did not hail him, or pretend to hail him, as a fine roystering sort of fellow, I

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certainly did not join in the popular execrations which greet his blusterings ; nay, might even, in presence of some acquaintance whom he had nipped, have touched him up with faint praise. He had never harmed me, nor inconvenienced. Personally I bore no grudge. But I link myself here and now with the great Galileo and the great Cranmer : I make public recantation.

Coming across the Bay of Biscay towards the end of March, after an absence in climes where the east wind is a welcome guest, we naturally looked for the fag end of the Equinoctials. To our astonishment, the dreaded Bay was calm and quiet ; calm by lack of wind, and quiet because the dark waters were not troubled by the famous swell which so often, even when the weather is fair, makes you sickly sad in those latitudes.

But running away from Ushant one night, we met an easterly gale which roared in our teeth all the way up channel, and, spite of bright sunshine, cut into our marrow-bones. Within four-and-twenty hours of landing, that east wind caused me to take part in a melancholy duty in Brompton Cemetery. An elderly relative coming into town from Kew, had turned the corner of a West-End street : a furious gust met him, knocked off his hat, and tore open his overcoat. The hat was soon recovered and the coat rebuttoned, but my poor friend had in that brief space of time received a death grip which in three days accomplished its fell work. Small matter by comparison with this was the suffering of those of us new from the lands of the sun — the influenza, the doctor's stuff, the despair of ever again feeling hopeful and warm. But it enters into the indictment with the rest, and warrants a charge of ruffianism — treacherous, merciless ruffianism — against the easr wind.

Down in Westminster, one cold gloomy morning, an angling conclave met at breakfast, for the express purpose of talking trout. One had just come from Devonshire, reporting dismally of the prospects of sport there. Derbyshire ? Worse still. Ireland, -too far : Scotland, the same. For certain choice streams, preserved, but accessible perhaps as a favour, the season was too early ; for any stream, in short, the conditions were in the highest degree unfavourable. The meeting, so agreeing without division, threw its cigar- ends into the grate, and scattered. For myself, I had a charge to keep. For a couple of months I had determined upon a bit of spring trouting. In tropical seas, as the good ship pounded on, day and night, nor'- west-and-by-nor' (more or less), approaching every twenty-four hours some three hundred miles nearer home, the determination was not weakened. East wind or none, this trouting had to be tried.

After watching the weathercock daily on fourteen successive mornings and evenings, and finding the dragon's head of the vane obstinate between north and east, there came a Sunday morning when, peering through the Venetian blinds, I found the smoke from the chimney over the way telling a cheering tale in its own dumb fashion. The wind had shifted a few points south of west, and blew without a sting, steady and genial. The auspicious moment had arrived for hasty preparations and a prompt start. The preparations were soon made — rod, winch, fly-books, landing stick and net, wading gear. It is always best to tick them off on the fingers. Nothing makes a man look so sheepish as to unpack his materials by riverside, perhaps hundreds of miles from home, and discover that everything has been provided with elaborate care, even to scissors, pliers, thread, and indiarubber for straightening out the cast — everything but the winch and line.

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Preparations made, there arose a rather important question. To what place shall I go ? The morning's Field lay on the table. Now, the reader had better understand at once that the angler who shapes his movements byparagraphic inspirations must take his chance of being disappointed. The paragraphs are occasionally misleading by accident ; there is no reason for thinking design to be other than a very rare occurrence.

Taking up the paper, then, I made up my mind that if nothing eligible offered in its pages, I would betake me to the Yorkshire wolds, in whose brooks I had been assured plenty of small trout were to be taken. The telegraphic news was discouraging enough, in all conscience. * It would be so as a matter of course, the wind on the previous day being in its worst quarter. " Not a fly of any kind on the river yesterday." I should opine not, indeed. This was the Test. " River very low and clear. Wind north-east, fish not rising." So much 'for the Usk. It was a model statement; a complete essay leading up to a severely logical conclusion. The Ycre and Swale, with my wolds scheme simmering, interested me most. The telegram evidently was evasive, but there could be no mistaking its meaning : " Weather keeps dreadfully cold — ■ very few natural flies on the water — surface anglers doing next to nothing — good dish of trout is a rarity," &c. &c. Such were the salient features of the announcement.

This being a sample of the very latest intelligence, it seemed idle to turn to that valuable column of anslinorecords, "Notes and Queries." Yet a paragraph, sideheaded " The Verniew (Montgomeryshire)" attracted my attention, and I soon considered it studiously. It referred to another paragraph in a previous number, and that, unearthed, expressed wonder why the Verniew was never mentioned as an open river, and gave some definite information that seemed sterling. Returning to the later copy of the paper, I found two paragraphs from different correspondents, and they agreed in their statements that the trout were small, but plentiful ; that permission was easy to obtain, where the water was not open ; and that the accommodation was good. What finally settled me was the sentence : — " The only reason I can assign for its being so little known is that it is rather inconvenient to reach." The very place. Anglers sometimes are a trifle selfish : exclusive, perhaps, is the more accurate expression. Llanfair was "so little known." This decided me, and per nine-something train from Euston, to Llanfair I booked.

In the small hours, in a deserted railway-station dark and dreary, pacing up and down, I discovered a fishing-basket and rods amongst somebody's luggage waiting to go on with the train into Wales.

We resumed our travels soon after the pale dawn had chased part of the gloom from the station (at Shrewsbury it is not at the best of times a place for hilarity), and, as a matter of course, the bearer of my fishing-basket found himself occupying a carriage with the owner of that other basket. Somehow, these fishing-baskets by a silent and unassisted process do often gravitate towards each other in this friendly manner. The owner was accompanied by a bright-eyed young lad, to whom that midnight journey, with fishing at its terminus, was evidently an adventure to be spoiled by neither cold nor hunger.

We did not exchange visiting-cards, but we did exchange paragraphs snipped from the Field. We had sped on our errands under the same monitorship of the morning. Mine, as I have explained, was sending me to Llanfair : his was taking him to the Artog Hall Hotel, between Dolgelly and Barmouth. We wished each other good luck

NEAR AND FAR.

at Welshpool, at which station. I left the train, nevertheless half-minded to abandon Llanfair, and proceed with my newly-made acquaintances, who might have sea-fishing and a yacht. at their disposal — a most valuable dernier ressort at all times for the land sportsman.

After a night journey, with wearisome stoppages at indifferently appointed stations, it is not the most enjoyable of things to be deposited in a small country town before it is astir. How cold it was, too, for April ! Yet, it might have been fancy. The blackbirds and thrushes, bless them, were making music fortissimo in the shrubberies, and I listened to them with an appreciation peculiar to any country-loving person who has not heard them, or their tribe, for years. The shutters were up, which, it being Sunday and in Wales, was not surprising ; but the buttend of the fishing-rod, freely applied to the front door, in a reasonable space of time brought down a ruddy-armed damsel to open the hotel.

" Pool," as the natives call their town, is a quiet, comfortable-looking place, as the country towns go, with a canal, and the usual public buildings. At some period, I suspect, it has been trying, on its smaller scale, to assimilate itself to Shrewsbury, which is but a score of miles distant, and no doubt to many of the inhabitants the highest type of what civilization can produce in the shape of a city.

A climb up the side of the very steep churchyard gave me a fine view of the neighbourhood, which, by reason of Powys Park, and other country seats, is far above the average of rural beauty. The ever sweet clanging of the Sunday bells continued during breakfast-time, and at their call the town, by eight o'clock, was evincing incipient tokens of waking up. The rattle of our waggonette-wheels sounded hollow and startling at that peaceful hour, and cottagers appeared at window and door to scan the novelty. On weekdays there is a coach to Llanfair, but on Sundays you have to remain in Welshpool, or indulge in the luxury of posting.

A lovely drive of nine miles brings you to Llanfair. The road for the. most part runs along the side of a slope. On the other side of the valley you have the park surrounding " Red Castle," the baronial residence of the Earl of Powys, of this part the respected magnate. In these days, when suburbs of unadulterated streets by the score call themselves parks, I ought perhaps to explain, in the language of the driver of my waggonette, " Yes, sir, this is a park, and no mistake." It is the kind of domain where the gnarled trees can reckon their age by centuries ; the deer have miles of varied roamage-land ; the woods stretch away out of ken ; and the wanderer may everywhere discover sylvan thickets and dells.

But the spring was late in coming. The vernal advance was much more delayed than in Southern England. The hedges were displaying their tender leaflets, and waxen buds tipped the branches of trees. In the hedgerows, too common for rifling by the children, masses of primroses of the largest petal and daintiest colour stood clear out from the strong leaves, from which, save at the zenith of their maturity, they love to seek protection. The fields were gay with buttercups and amazing patches of full-blown daffodils. The woods as yet had no leaves, and the only approach to green was upon the young larches, cultivated in these parts upon every available space, to supply the coalpits with props.

Not here will I pour out my praise of the larch, the herald of spring in the plantation, as the violet, primrose, and anemone are in the hedgerow. The wind may pierce and rave defiance, but when the larch puts forth that wonderful green which belongs to itself, you may read a sure promise that winter is as good as gone. The other trees had no tint other than that which is so hard to describe, but which is so characteristic of the time of the year. The late William Sawyer, in one of his musical poems, does ho ft ever describe it thoroughly in the line :

" The wine-dark masses of the wood."

The oak woods in Powys Park on that Sunday morning seemed as if they had been washed in red wine. I know that purple tint well. It will change very rapidly, for it always appears just before the shooting of the leaves.

For the latter half of our journey the river ran in the valley, often overhung by the woods, not often violently broken, but distinguished by an even ripple that would at sight commend it to the angler. Crossing a bridge, I saw a salmon break some distance up the stream, and then learned that, if the salmon are not numerous, some are taken every season.

Llanfair is too small to rank as a town, and too large to be dubbed a village. Homely as it is in itself, the immediate surroundings are very picturesque, of the Welsh order of picturesqueness, when it is a portion of the Principality that is well wooded. The river Banw — a branch of the Verniew, which is a branch of the Severn. — runs through the place. You cross it by a bridge on entering the lower part of the town, and, by the narrow street, get high above it in a few minutes.

From the inn-window glimpses of the river might be seen. The angler on his roamings should always be quartered, when possible, in a room from which he can see the water if he be so minded. Angling pictures on the wall may at a push serve as a substitute, but for comforting,

Eoothing, inspiring, and encouraging the angler, there is nothing so effective as the close vicinity of a stream ; and if it makes itself heard, be it only a murmur, its power is much enhanced. It will enter into his dreams. In the morning, in slippered ease, when his bosom is full of hope of what the day, viewed through the meshes of the landing-net, may bring, he will nod a recoguition before equipping himself for his excursion. At eventide, luxuriously tired in his arm-chair, reviewing, with such heart as the amount of spoil will regulate, what has been done, seen, said, and felt during the day's sport, he will soon learn to detect the faintest change in the never-ceasing undertone, and hope or despair afresh.

A Sunday-afternoon stroll down to the weir, where a few idlers dangled their feet over the rocky river-bed, discoursing of a phenomenal trout seen the day before by workmen making repairs, and up the stream through the meadow and wood pathways, convinced me that there were no flies about. East wind again, I suppose ! The fly which dances so madly over the gravel, from which it takes its name, ought to have been out in swarms. It is the favourite spring fly here, but here it was not. Nor was the ghost of a March brown to be found, nor the pretty iron-blue. dun which loves to tower in the air, poising itself perpendicularly on its tail till it is out of sight. At odd hours of calmness and sunshine during the week I saw solitary specimens ; but I believe the fly famine lasted till the middle of May.

On my first fishing morning of course the wind was in the north again, with west and east alternately striving to put in a flavour, but with the most contemptible result. The clouds were low on the hills, woolly and slate-hued. Still, there was a day's work to be done, and any angler is aware that eight hours' steady fly-fishing, wading, now over io NEAR AND FAR.

ridges of slate, now over large boulders slippery by lengthy surcease of flood, and often throwing a long line across a foul wind, is verily hard work. You earn your fish, and you earn it by the sweat of your brow. The day's work in my case was sweetened by eight trout, or one trout per hour. The fish were small, say five to the pound, and not in good condition. Yet they were game and went for the March brown honourably. To complain of the modest sum total, made the most of on a willow-pattern dish by an artistic cushion of graceful young fern-fronds, would not be fair, seeing that it exceeded any estimate founded upon the morning's careful calculations. I did not observe a fish rise all the day. The water was so clear that, when the bank and bushes were favourable, you could see every pebble at the bottom for a considerable distance, but there was not a trout visible.