An angler's lines
UC-NRLF $B 271 715 ■9 a Ik ^&#..^i^Ih T.:x<r^/^ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESENTED BY PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from Microsoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/anglerslinesOOpricrich AN ANGLER'S LINES. An Angler^s Lines. By A. J. Price. h (A. J. P. "The Field.") LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT & C0.» Ltd. 1911. fAll riehts reserved). TO MY FATHER, IN MEMORY OF OUR HAPPY DAYS BY MANY WATERS. 0, .vq CONTENTS. A Preliminary Cast. PAGE I. Saturday 1 II. The Pike from the Ditch 6 III. A Morning Idyll -  the Towing Path - 65 VIII. A Tragedy of the Mere - 74 IX. A Sussex Brook - - - - 79 X. An Evening by the Mill Pond 87 XI. " Varium et Mutabile " - 91 XII. Days on a JBuckinghamshire Lake - 98 ERRATA. Headlines pp. 35, 37. 39 & 41, Weathers NOT Waters. " n 67, 69, 71, Off and On not On and Off. „ „ 73, Off and On the Towing Path NOT A Tragedy of the Mere. A PRELIMINARY CAST. T FEEL that whatever I write respecting this. book must be of the nature of an excuse^ — excuse for its lack of comprehensiveness in that It narrates the taking of but certain kinds of fish, excuse for its literary frailty^ and lastly, yet most needed, excuse for its publication at all. And, am I painfully con- scious, I have no excuse to offer. Therefore I must leave it with all its imperfections and shortcomings to the reader's kindly charity,, pleading in part extenuation, even as the maid-^ servant in Mr, Midshipman Easy, '* please, it's a very little one.** Should, however, a perusal of its pages bring some slight sense of pleasure to any reader, or help him to participate in the keen enjoyment that has been mine in the days that I record, then I am content. I am indebted to the proprietor of The ii AN ANGLER'S LINES. Field for permission to republish the follow- ing *' lines," which, with the exception of Saturday and " Variiim Et Mutabile'' appeared in their original form in that journal. May I state that the incident related in the latter is authentic, and not drawn from the realms of fancy. The illustration on the cover (a view on the fishery, of the Friendly Anglers Society 'On the Colne,_ near Rickmans worth) is re- produced, by the courtesy of Messrs Kodak, Ltd., from a photograph by Mr. F. Napier Suttonj, Much, to me, that is pleasant of recall^ gathers round the Friendly Anglers' fishery. ,The charm of woodland scenery, the sob and fret of the river where it comes through the sluices, the scent of the honeysuckle clustering on the hut, the snowy mass of horse-daisies by the railway-bridge, the mill on the upper water; all these have their part in the recollection of many a delight- ful hour with the rod. My preliminary cast would be incomplete A PRELIMINARY CAST. iii without a reference to toy feeling of deep gratitude to Mr. H. T. Sheringham, Angling Editor of The Field, for his valued advice and assistance in my unpretentious writings . Feeble,; and altogether wanting, is this expression of my thanks, yet behind it is a great appreci- ation, a great sincerity. A.J.P. SATURDAY. SATURDAY. " A WORM at one end and a fool at the other."* Maybe; 'tis an old saying. Yet I am disposed to challenge its truth. The only illustration which makes me concede any accuracy to it is a man fishing with worm when he ought to be using paste. And I am con- strained to make the exception by the thought of my own condition. It is a perfect summer day in this year of grace 1 9 1 1 . From a sky of palest blue, in which a few fleecy clouds hang all but motion- less, descends aj wealth of sunlight. The cattle seek the shade beneath the two old oaks where they lie and chew an endless cud, while a gentle breeze murmurs in the leaves and struggles fitfully to temper the heat. I, too, have sought the protection of a tree that over- hangs the pond, and sit in the flat -bottomed boat which is tied to a branch. My rod projects from the side, and on the seat is a tin 2 AN ANGLER'S LINES. wherein are worms, lovely big fat brandlings, acquired with much labour and no little dis- comfort from the depths of a farm -yard heap, of particularly evil odour. One by one, for two long hours, have I sacrificed their fellows on the altar of angling with never a sign that the offering is accepted, and still, in my crass foolishness, the martyrdom goes on. Then wisdom returns, and I clamber out of the boat and beg a slice of bread at the house. Con- verted into paste, a piece is lowered into the pond and, instantly, the porcupine quill travels slantwise, dips, dips again, and is gone. A short struggle, and a carp, not exceeding big but big enough to need the net, is lifted out and lies flopping in the bottom of the boat. It is not my purpose to detail the taking of the 5lb. weight of fish that follows, the *' catch " will not rank in piscatorial annals, but it points my exception when the adage is right. O you poor departed worms, if you were at one end, I was at the other I And now,; having placed the rod in its case. SATURDAY. 5 and put the brandlings in a cool spot under the hedge to await a befitting occasion when their use shall bring me no self-reproach, I repeat — I challenge the truth of the saying. Angling to the man (and, of course^ woman) who loves it not, is the ugly duck- ling of sport. For it, and those who take their leisure therein, his scorn is merciless, his con- tempt unveiled. ' Show me an angler, and I will show you a fool ' is the tenor of his thoughts, if not his words. He is in grievous error. The man who goes forth with rod and line is neither to be contemned, nor viewed with lofty scorn. Too often the end of the day may find him with a bag lighter than the (morning pictured it in hope and imagination^, but what of that, his has been a full measure of innocent, health -giving enjoyment. The scent of the hay was not less sweet, the song of the birds less melodious, the music of rip- pling water less delightful; the worlds of insect, animal, and vegetable life were not less beauteous and wonderful because his fly 4 AN ANGLER'S LINES. lias been unnoticed or the float has remained motionless. He has been Nature's guest, has seen her face to face, and is a better man in mind and body. Believe me, ye scoffers, such an one is to be envied; he is no fool. Fate has ordained that the angler whom I depict, and for whom I fling my cap into the ring, shall live his life amidst the stress and turmoil of a crowded city. Fair weather or foul, heat or cold, he must take his allotted place in the world of work and labour for his daily bread. Perhaps, at times, in the ray of sunlight that jcomes in at the office -window, lie sees a vision of green water-meadows and catches the far-off echo of a babbling stream; and he thinks of the trout that rises in the tail of the eddy just below the little wooden bridge. Then the office reasserts itself; he must wait till Saturday. All the cares and worries of the preceding week vanish and are forgotten as he journeys on that day, the oasis in a desert of work, towards that little wooden bridge, with the trout looming large in his SATURDAY. 5 thoughts. And if evening come and find the trout, not in the creel, but left behind, rising in the same old place, well, — the angler is still happy and content; the hopes of getting that fish will sweeten the labours of another week. His enjoyment is not to be measured by the number of the slain ; he is no mere seeker after *' blood." Should fortune send him great things he is becomingly grateful ; should she withold her benefits, yet has he other cause to be grateful, for the actual taking of fish is but a question of degree in the sum of his day's pleasure. Thus the " Saturday " angler. Hoping ?mich (an angler without hope is unthinkable), expecting little, content with less. If these be the attributes of folly, then is it a folly to be commended to all worthy men. It is as a *' Saturday " angler that I write. AN ANGLER'S LINES. THE PIKE FROM THE DITCH. TN the valley of the Hertfordshire Colne is a certain backwater. To the privileged it is known as " The Ditch." A backwater small and insignificant, and, to the casual observer, uninteresting, despite the sylvan beauty of a stately park that, rising gently upward, watches over its brief career. Its width, at most, does not exceed 15ft., and in many places is con- siderably less, while in depth it is anything from 3 ft., to i^ ft., except one solitary hole which can boast of 8 ft. or 10 ft. Nor in its length is it imposing. From the old moat, half hidden by a group of clustering trees, whence it derives its being, to where it merges silently with the canal, is barely a mile. If historical records speak truth, this same moat surrounds the spot whereon stood one of the palaces of Cardinal Wolsey, and where that prelate fre- quently entertained his royal benefactor Henry VIII.,, who, after the Cardinal's downfall, took THE PIKE FROM THE DITCH. 7 possession of the place and occasionally resided there. Many years before this the site is reputed to have been occupied by a monastic building connected with the Abbey of St. Albans.* For a stream possessing such royal and ecclesiastic traditions 'twould seem an in- glorious end, this emf^tying of its waters into a canal. Yet to the angler is it justified, for when, distressed by autumn gale, the canal runs turgid and bank -high, pike seek the shelter of the backwater from the turmoil outside. The Ditch was ever a favourite Saturday haunt of mine, and the memory of a previous visit when it had given me a fish of 7 lb.,, followed, within a very few minutes, by one of 6 lb., urged me to give it a further trial to-day. The growth of weed that chokes its bed during the summer months had dis- appeared, victim to winter's frosts, and the colour of the water was that beloved by the angler. A faint breeze sent a shivering * '*The More," by Henry Mitchell. 8 AN ANGLER'S LINES. amongst the rushes that lined the low banks with a fringe of brown and green, rushes suggestive of pike, and sunshine, such as a January day is not often blessed with, com- pleted an auspicious combination of sky and water. But, in spite of all, I was fain to confess that things were slow, wretchedly slow. In an early stage of the proceedings a small jack had ;Seized the live dace attached to a Jardine snap, and had discovered, probably for the first time, that a lively appetite has its drawbacks. His youth, however, served him in good stead, and I returned him to the water, there to ponder the extraordinary ways of man- kind and the painful deceitfulness of little fish. But this had happened a good while back, and the greased line was still floating listlessly in the wake of a float that showed never a tendency to bob beneath the surface. Mean- while, I made a pilgrimage to places where, on former occasions, success had usually attended my efforts. But nothing had come of THE PIKE FROM THE DITCH. 9 it;^ and to judge from outward and visible signs there might not have been a fish in the water. I glanced at my watch. Two o'clock was numbered with the past, and a bare hour and a half remained of daylight ! To fish the top of the Ditch would necessitate a slight detour, owing to a copse which extended on my bank to the water's edge, and placing my rod on the ground, I debated whether, in the unfavourable state of Esox's appetite, it was really worth the trouble the extra walk involved, when the pros and cons were cut short by the sudden disappearance of the float and the running out of the line. Hope revived once more. The ensuing struggle was short and spirited, the fish contesting every inch, but with the landing came disillusion, and he was tossed back, for a two and a half pounder should have no place in the pike fisher's bag. The slightest of encouragement, and the ardent angler at once becomes an optimist, even though black disappointment has hitherto 10 AN ANGLER'S LINES. marked him for its own, and the fates have seemed banded together against him. I decided to try the upper water. Picking up my bait-can I trudged onwards, and, crossing the bridge a quarter of a mile away, regained the Ditch by the other bank. The backwater here presented a forlorn and neglected appearance, and, moreover, its course was partially obstructed by a bed of weeds which faced me on the opposite side. Close by was the deep hole already referred to, which I proceeded to exploit with a paternoster, but, try as I would, there was the same dishearten- ing result. Leaving the hole I resorted once more to float -tackle. With little, if any, hope of success, for the Ditch shallowed consider- ably and was scarcely 3 feet deep, I shortened the line between the float and the bait and cast over towards the weeds. The sun had set, light was failing badly, and in the air was the chill of a coming frost. Disappointment, apathy; in turn I had long since experienced both, and now was conscious only of an irritable in- THE PIKE FROM THE DITCH. 11 difference to everything. Of what good was it to remain, I would pack up and — what was that? From behind, a splash, so loud and startling as to rouse me effectually out of my moody reverie. I turned to see the cause, fully expecting from the noise to find that a dog had plunged in for a swim, but only the disturbed water with its ever widening ripples, met my enquiring glance. Here, at last, was my opportunity, for there was no doubt that the sudden commotion had been caused by the dash of a hungry fish after its prey. Anxious eager- ness succeeded indifference as I baited anew with a lively little dace and cast into the centre of the ripples which, even now, had hot sub- sided. I waited and watched while the bait worked its way to my bank. It came in un- touched. Again I made a cast, and again the bait returned. Even an angler's patience his its limit, and, wholly dispirited, I began preparations for departure. Then, what impulse it was that prompted me to try a few feet further down 12 AN ANGLER'S LINES. stream — just once more, it whispered, — I know not, but try I did. For one brief second my float rested on the water, the next, with the suddenness of a flash of lightning, it shot down out of sight. So unexpected was it that I scarcely realised what had happened, but the exultant cry of the reel recalled me to myself and I drove the hooks home. Then I knew that I had to try conclusions v/ith a good fish. With a mighty rush, away he went up stream, whilst the line raced through the rings and the reel shrieked a protest. A pause, and back again he came, for the reminder from the rod was not to his liking. But the pace was too mad to be sustained, and he sought relief in desperate plunges that made the stout greenheart bend as though it were the veriest wand. The potential danger of that weed-bed opposite was ever in my mind, and, when the fish resumed his former tactics, I followed hastily along the bank rather than surrender line that might lead to complications in that quarter. And it was THE PIKE FROM THE DITCH. 13 well I did so, for, tiring of futile journeyings to and fro, he suddenly made a dash across. But the strain I brought to bear was not to be denied, and a broad back and vicious looking head showed on the surface. Then, with an angry sweep of the tail that churned the water into foam, he was away again. The lessened curve of the rod, however, told of weakening strength, and soon I was able to coax him to the side. Unslinging my gaff I bent over to land him. Even now was I all but undone, for, in the act of stooping, I had carelessly allowed the line to slacken. A sullen plunge, and the fish was out in mid- stream, heading straight for the dreaded fringe of weeds I Only strong measures could avert a disaster, and I spared neither rod nor line. It sufficed. The gallant fight was ended, and I lifted him on to the grass at my feet, a truly handsome fish of 1 2 lb., 9 oz. ; 18 inches in girth; and twice that in length. What need to tell of the two -mile walk, in the dark back to the little country station 14 AN ANGLER'S LINES. with the strap of the bag cutting deep, into my. shoulder at every step? As I write it all comes ivividly before me, and, with a still un- challenged record for the water, from a glass case there looks out the Pike from the Ditch. A success. It was more. It was a ** Saturday " triumph. A MORNING IDYLL. 15 A MORNING IDYLL. TTIGH in the heavens a lark is singing a full-throated Te Deum, and from thicket and copse proceeds a twittering accompaniment. A moment, and the psean of praise breaks off abruptly as the singer drops to earth. A moment more, and it is taken up by a robin. The burden of his song is the same, the joy of living. It is only the setting that is different. The spirit of the early morn is upon me also, and I find myself humming a refrain from sheer lightness of heart as I press onward towards the brow of the hill, over furrowed land, with its scent of newly turned earth, and through long grass that at every, step discharges a cascade of dew over boot and gaiter. Down in the hollow a little stream, where it escapes from the tyranny of bushes to meet 16 AN ANGLER'S LINES. the caresses of the sunlight, gleams like a thread of silver wire. A wayward, irre- sponsible, coquettish little stream, now flowing demurely with scarce a ripple, now racing with noisy abandon to where it circles in some diminutive pool. It is not broad, and, save in a few open places, the bushes on opposite banks meet and intertwine. A distant village church strikes six as I .crouch low and gently drop a fine gut leger into an eddy. Almost immediately the rod top bends and the slack of the line becomes taut. Brief, but vigorous, is the contest; then a 5 oz. trout is lifted out, victim to a little red worm. Soon another completes the brace, and, behind a willow, I wait in hope rather than expectancy for the eddy to yield a third. Through the leafy screen I see where the rod rests on the g'rass,. with its slender top projecting over the water. But there is no movement in it, and my watchfulness flags, and in the solitude, unbroken save for the music of the stream and the call pf birds, my thoughts stray from the catching A MORNING IDYLL. 17 of trout to the little ailing maiden away up at the farm to whom, in the caprice of appetite, the success of my rod means a slender nourish- ment or an all too willing fast. Into the sunlight there comes a sudden flash of idazzling blue, and the next moment the greenheart top sways and bends 'neath the weight of a kingfisher that rests but for an instant, and is gone. By the old gnarled oak the stream frets and circles sullenly against a barrier of fallen branches and decaying leaves ; then, creeping slyly round the ends, it races on in rippling triumph. It bears away the un- shotted line and takes it swiftly along, now under one bank, now under the other. The hook fouls, comes free, barely in time to save a catastrophe for the bulge of the line is floating perilously near an outstretched snag, and then continues its erratic course. An uneasy feeling is growing upon me as to its ultimate recovery, when three sharp tugs in rapid succession are telegraphed up the line. I tighten instinctively, then hastily reel in, for 18 AN ANGLER'S LINES. procrastination would be fatal, and, with many a splash and many a struggle, a | lb. trout comes over the net — the fish of the morning. Once more the hazardous venture is made; but the hook returns not again. The next swim down, the worm is taken greedily by a fish that subsequently owes its salvation to lack of inches. But the little rapid, on the whole, is kind, and I do not begrudge the four hooks it claims as the price of three sizable trout; more kind than its neighbour just round the bend, which, if it does not thieve my hooks, is exasperatingly fruitful of lost fish, in stages ranging froni the " lightly pricked," to that of freedom regained even in front of the waiting net. A movement, two movements, on the other bank where it juts out abruptly into the stream, attract my attention, and two water-voles approach from opposite directions. Con- verging, each in blissful ignorance of the other's presence, they come face to face at the point. .Mutual surprise gives way to mutual A MORNING IDYLL. 19 indecision; then, with tooth and nail, Greek meets Greek in furious conflict. An obstinate and savagely fought battle while it lasts, but the third round settles the question of supremacy, and the vanquished turns tail and dives into the water, with the vanquisher in hot pursuit. The church clock speaks again — six, seven, eight. 'Tis time for breakfast, and the little invalid expects her trout. 20 AN ANGLER'S LINES THE DUCK POND. " TTTHY, I've seen them there as long as this," said the farmer to me, placing the edge of his right hand on his left forearm, mid\yay between elbow and wrist. " I don't know what you call them," he continued, " but they're fish of some sort." Further questioning! as to shape and colour failed to elicit anything more definite, and, in order to satisfy myself as to their identity, I proceeded to describe the appearance of perch, roach, tench, and carp. The only result was to complicate the matter horribly, for, according to the farmer, his fish embraced individually all the characteristics of those I mentioned ! Then I gave it up. In my inmost self I was sceptical of the existence of fish '* as long as this," in fact of fish at all, in the pond. Its very look ridiculed the idea. Now, there are ponds that invite the angler's notice and woo THE DUCK POND. 21 his attention. They proclaim aloud the infor- mation, ** fish here.'* This was none of that variety; could not claim even the most distant relationship. It was insignificant in size, was freely patronised by a goodly number of ducks and geese at all times of the day, and the water, decidedly pea-soupy in consistency and colour, was the rendezvous of errant feathers that made absurd voyages with every breath of wind. Had it come to that? Were all my dreams of rivers, with trout to be angled for for the asking, to end in a pond wherein were mysterious fish of unholy combination of perch, roach, tench, and carp? " Expecti7ig little^ yes, but — a duck pond! Alas I it was that, or nothing ; for in this corner of Sussex rivers are not, and even brooks, few. But the farmer was emphatic, proudly emphatic about his fish. He was equally so in his repudiation of fishing. " Too slow a job " for him. This relieved my mind of a certain suspicion that his statement might be the outcome of an angler's fertile imagination. So 22 AN ANGLER'S LINES. it came to pass that, faute de mieux, I em- barked one morning in the leaky flat -bottomed craft of which it was impossible to tell bow from stern, both ends being conveniently pointed, with designs upon the fish *' as long as this.'* The landing-net was by my side, but methought its customary vacuous look was changed to one of reproach. The opening of the proceedings was somewhat trying, for the appearance of my float on the water immediately excited the curiosity of every duck in my vicinity. With raucous " quacks " of expectancy they bore down upon it, and from the end of the pond came answering quacks as still more ducks hurriedly left the shore and made for the scene. In vain I " s-s-s-hed," and waved my arms frantically. My gesticulations interested them mildly, nay, seemed to afford them pleasure, for they put on a spurt. Sailing up, the leader critically inspected the float; then, to settle her doubt as to its edible qualities, took it in her bill and deliberately chewed it. THE DUCK POND. 23 Wrathfully I uplifted the slack of the line, and, with horrid commotion, the company of Aylesburys scuttled in all directions. One breasted the line in her flight, and entwined it around her ,neck. It was a tense moment. Already in my mind I saw a strangled bird, and, with calm resignation, wondered what the market price of ducks might be. Suddenly the rod sprang back into the straight, and the reel ceased its shriek. The prisoner had become unwound, and, quacking dismally, started to lower all records for one length of the pond. I hate ducks. Once more peace; the feather ships re- sumed their voyaging, and I my fishing. When in doubt, try worms. I did, but after some time of patient waiting and much con- sumption of tobacco, I came to the conclusion that the denizens of the pond were not car- niverous. A change to paste, and the float gave a tremulous movement. Down it went,_ until only the extreme tip was visible; came up again, and for a second or two remained 24 AN ANGLER'S LINES. stationary; then, after a few spasmodic jerks, it slowly sank out of sight, and the line sprang taut. Whatever the unseen, it was a sturdy fighter. No puny struggling was there, but one steady, stubborn resistance, and visions of fish " as long as this " rose before me as the line, tight as a bow-string, cut a wide semi -circle in the water. Nearer and nearer it came, and, submerging the net, I lifted out a carp of I lb., and plump enough to keep for the farmer's breakfast, in accordance with his wish. Another piece of paste was swung out, and met with speedy attention. Bites finnicking, bites genteel, wary bites, voracious bites ; I had example of each, and soon a second fish lay in the bottom of the boat. Nor had I long to wait for the third and fourth. If youthful and guileless, they were fighters all, and required respectful treat- ment. The fifth, eluding the net, bolted under the boat, and broke the fine gut line in twain. It was a sorry happening, for now carply con- fidence gave place to suspicion, so that even THE DUCK POND. 25 experimental nibbles became few and far between. To the angler who sits by the river- side, this waiting for bites is a dull, wearisome business, but there is no dulness for the man on a duck pond. The latest nibbler had come and gone, when a subdued hiss proclaimed a new distraction. Glancing round, I beheld some seven or eight geese approaching in Indian file. The look an their eyes told me that they had no intention of diverging an inch from their course. They were out to assert their right to the pond by force and destruction, if need were. I capitulated at once, hastily dragged in line and float, and, with a hiss of execration, the procession passed on, unhurried, haughty, supercilious. I detest geese. But perhaps I am mistaken in that parting hiss. It may have been a blessing, for certain it is that thereafter the float was seldom still, the net frequently in demand, and the farmer's breakfast was assured, aye, and his wife's, too, if she would, and I wish them joy 26 AN ANGLER'S LINES. of their meaL Desire for further conquest waned. One more fish, and I would go. Then a duck swam by. It was mine ancient enemy. Still doubtful about the composition of jmy float, she turned sharply, and made towards it. With fell intent, I drew it closer in. She followed. Closer, and closer still, and then I smote her over the head with the top of the rod. It was a pleasing incident — to me. So engrossing was my satisfaction that the required fish took my paste and escaped with impunity. The steelyard told of a lo lb. catch, and the duck pond had acquired a reputation. But among the fish there were none " as long as this." I fear the farmer is a bit of an angler after all. IN DIVERS WEATHERS. 27 IN DIVERS WEATHERS. i. That Phantom Twenty-Pounder. A S every soldier of France is said to carry a marshars baton in his knapsack, so I, when I go a -fishing for pike, always have a twenty -pounder reposing in the bag. That is to say, in the morning. It is never there on the homeward journey in the evening. During the hours that intervene, however, the thought of my imaginary burden is sustaining, and of much comfort. Moreover, the actual weight of that fish is as nothing, and therein lies the superiority of the shadow over the substance. But I am prepared to forego this advantage if a happy chance should offer me the sub- stance. Meanwhile, as becomes a " Saturday " angler, I find solace for its tardy appearance in patient hope and calm content. Nor does hope deferred make my heart sick, and when my friend said, " You must come and have a 28 AN ANGLER^S LINES. couple of days on our water; there is always a good fish taken in February," I rejoiced exceedingly, for, in addition to having his cheery companionship, was there riot a chance of realising my long -cherished ambition of securing a twenty-pounder. At the end of the first day I retired to bed slightly perturbed, for, despite most favourable conditions of weather and water, and a total and reckless disregard on my part of the value of live bait, the result had been one solitary fish which, not to put too fine a point upon it, was somewhere about 19 lb. short of 'my modest standard. The following morning I inquired of my friend what he thought of the leaden sky that greeted our re -appearance at the river side. " Not much," was his reply, and the tone discouraged further remarks on the subject. Acting upon the keeper's advice, I swung my dace on float paternoster to the far side of the pool and waited for the coming of the twenty- pounder. As I waited, something cold and IN DIVERS WEATHERS. 29 adhesively moist struck me in the face, and, looking up, I saw a few white particles floating in the air. They were the scouts; companies followed^, then battalions, and finally, the whole army of the Snow Queen. Borne on a biting^ wind, the flakes hurtled along with relentless fury, and it seemed to us that we were the objectives of frontal attacks, rear-guard actions, and flanking movements, all simultaneously. Even the keeper forsook us and fled,, under the plea of fetching his mackintosh. He must have experienced some difficulty in finding it,, or, what is more probable, he knew rather more than we, for four hours elapsed ere he returned. In the meantime I steadily t*egarded a float that showed dimly through the laceries of driving snow, and speculated on the number of twenty -pounders the river held in my vicinity, A whitish form, which gradually resolved itself into that of my host and companion^ loomed in the distance, and in the Father Christmas (without the beard) who now stood 30 AN ANGLER'S LINES. before tne^ The Field, I fancy, would have been hard put to it to have recognised its Angling Editor. Ke had been spinning a smelt (his favourite style of fishing for pike), but, like the patient angler in Happy Thoughts, his reply was, " Nothing ! ** Remarking that perhaps a tramp round the meadow might help him to realise that he still possessed those portions of his anatomy known as feet, he pro- ceeded on his way. Another live bait was dis- patched on its errand and then came a wild surging of hope as the water closed over my sinking float. If the fish were the desired pike he played very lightly, but I reassured myself with the thought that at times this is no criterion. I gathered him in, and — returned him. He may have weighed 20 oz.; I do not know. My friend is needlessly emphatic that he did not go sixteen, but that I attribute to envy. The pike, however, is entitled to notoriety for it was the only one I saw that day. At five o'clock we ceased fishing; ten minutes later it ceased snowing. It has been IN DIVERS WEATHERS. 31 my lot to fish in many weathers, but six hours in a searching snowstorm is an experience. The rain it raineth every day. It fell persistently, remorselessly, uncompromisingly, when four days later, in company with another friend, I pursued the twenty-pounder from a punt on a certain water,: wherein, unless report speaks falsely, there are some whoppers. Two pike, totalling 6 lb., had already fallen to my rod, when a six -and -a -half -pounder monopo- lised my companion's attention. I thought // had come, for so powerful were the struggles that even the stout rod had to bow before them, and, alternately plunging and swirling mightily, the fish for some minutes defied all attempts to bring him in. After such a fight the ultimate verdict was somewhat of a dis- appointment. With raindrops occasionally trickling down the back of my neck, I lifted in another, though a smaller, pike for him, afterwards performing a similar ofhce for myself. Close to a bed of rushes my float gave a spasmodic jerk and shot beneath the 32 AN ANGLER'S LINES. surface, where I could see it travelling at a rapid pace towards the punt. I reeled in, preparatory to the strike, but the fish was moving faster than I could revolve the handle, and, when I struck, a certain slackness resulted in a broken line. Then ensued a variation of hunt the slipper. Very cautiously I worked the punt to where the float was bobbing up and down, but as I stretched out with the gaff, down it would go, to reappear some distance away. This performance was repeated for some time, much to my companion's amusement and imy disgust, until at length, in anything but the sweetest of tempers, I relinquished the profitless chase. A change to deeper water proved a change for the worse, for there we waited for runs that never came, so I settled down to the oars again. As I rowed, a white object on the water attracted my notice, and proved to be my erstwhile float. Fully ex- pecting a repetition of its previous behaviour, I approached as quietly as possible, but, to my surprise, it remained without movement, and IN DIVERS WEATHERS. 33 snap-hooks, lead, and float were retrieved, needless to remark, without the pike, for the loss of which, however, I comfort myself in the belief that it was not the twenty -pounder. Before the end of the day five more fish enjoyed (temporarily) the seclusion of the well, but it was not there. Perhaps, one of these days, the phantom' will materialise, and in the bag will rest, not a morning fancy, but an evening reality. Who knows. ii. *'A Top-Hole Day." The heat was suffocating,: annihilating. During the short railway journey the un- fortunate dace in the can had borne alarming testimony to the fact by persistently floating wrong side up, 'despite my desperate and perspiring endeavours to keep the water aerated. And yet, according to the calendar, we stood within the threshold pi October^ a time of year when the discomforts of the dog- days should have been a thing of evil memory,; 34 AN ANGLER'S LINES. not of present suffering. As I stood beneath the scorching rays of the sun and watched the float take an erratic course across the river, I smiled derisively. Pike -fishing in a temper- ature of no degrees! It was absurd, preposterous. But there was no help for it, for my companion, who had killed salmon in Norway and slain trout in Scotland in the most approved fashion, had hitherto not essayed the capture of the " tyrant," and fate and com- pelling circumstances had decreed that this day, of all days, should be the one for his initial attempt. Moreover, a few weeks hence and he would become a " fisher of men," and then there would be little opportunity and still less leisure for the attainment of his desire. A lively hopefulness had marked his every reference to the expedition; but I knew the water, and had " ma doots ." Quantity rather than size characterised its pike, in spite of the 3 lb. limit that obtained, and from bitter experience I knew that, even in orthodox pike weather, three -pounders were IN DIVERS WATERS. 35 all too coy and hard to please. Small wonder then, that, as I wiped the moisture from my brow, I smiled in derision at the whole pro- ceedings. But the smile was suddenly arrested by the disappearance of my float;^ and the subsequent necessity for the net. The incident was satisfactory in that it showed that the pike, after all^ were not quite indifferent to the (delicacies provided for them, but it contributed nothing to my bag, for the fish came lamentably short of the requisite standard, and was not retained. Compelling curiosity to see the ** catch " had brought my companion back from down stream, and, in reply to my inquiries,; I learned that for him the object of the day's mission had yet to be accomplished. Where the river makes a slight curve he had seen sundry small fry leap high out of water,, but a protracted trial there had yielded him no result. Working slowly down I came to 'the place which he had vacated,, when instantly my dace was seized from below. I tightened,; the float jauntily reappeared and — that was alL 36 AN ANGLER'S LINES. After no little persuasion,^ at length I induced my friend to re -occupy the position, while I stood by and awaited results. Then, not once, but twice, did the history of my own experience cruelly repeat itself in his case, and the angler, hoping for, and practically in touch with, his first pike, may be pardoned that look of keen disappointment when finally, either suspicious or satiated, the fish ignored all further overtures. Man, however, must feled, whether fish elect to do so or not, and a tramp back for lunch in the comfortable little hut where the river surges through the open sluice gates, was decided upon. The elusive pike had laid a spell upon my companion, and the afternoon found him again at the little curve in the river, watching a float, from which depended a pater- noster, in pld-stream. I left him reclining in the welcome shade of a tree, and wended my way to a certain pool some three or four hundred yards distant. Half an hour elapsed, during which I was more occupied in applying IN DIVERS WATERS. 37 my handkerchief to my face and neck than in fishing, when I became aware that someone was shouting, and, moreover, shouting lustily. A hasty look around revealed my com- panion standing up, making frantic signs to me with one hand as with the other he en- deavoured to control the movements of a rod that was arching beautifully. Snatching up the landing-net I made towards the spot, yelling breathless instructions, that I might have known could never reach him, as I ran. Hot and panting, the perspiration streaming down my face, I arrived to find the elusive one hooked at last and in full play; but it was evident that he was not going to givie in tamely, and the reel sang out again and again as the line went forth in sudden jerks. But the net was waiting, and in due season my companion had the gratification of seeing his first pike on the steelyard, and the weight he saw registered there was Very little short of 5 lb. -We caught no more ; but what matter, for 38 AN ANGLER'S LINES. he had obtained his desire, and both of us were the richer by a happy memory. He called it " a top-hole day! " " Hoping much, content with less ^ In my clerical friend, I fancy that I see the making of a *' Saturday " angler. iii. A Fragment of History. Now there was a certain country squire possessed of a lake of goodly size having a worthy reputation for pike, who did invite two fishers to angle therein. With exceeding eagerness they awaited the day of their desire and when, in the fulness of time, it came, their hearts were sore troubled, for behold, there came with it plenteous rain and great darkness throughout the land, insomuch that they shrank from the prospect of an open punt, and gat them, even at the station, sadly back to their own homes instead. Whereupon the squire, having much kindliness of heart, had pity on their condition, and made them welcome to IN DIVERS WATERS. 39 another day,. So, when February had but one more day to run, these two fishers ventured forth again,^ and, with minds set only on the taking of mighty fish, gave no heed to the low estate of the weather-glass, yea, though it spake of wind and tempest and divers troubles. And in this were they as children who will not be forewarned, but must learn by much tribulation. Coming to the place of their journeying, and the weather being fair, albeit with much cold wind, they embarked and made for the open water. Then did the younger man, who had charge of the oars, find this same wind very grievous to contend against, so that he would fain have let go the anchor, but the elder,; who, from his more comfortable situation in the stern, knew not of its power over the craft, did urge him to continue. After no little striving they came to a place that seemed good to them, some fifty paces off an island,, and cast their lines. With merry jest and words of cheer they waited for 40 AN ANGLER'S LINES. the coming of these same mighty fish; but awhile, and the jest waxed feeble, neither were there heard any words of cheer, and the younger man uprose in his wrath and gat him to Tiis oars again. The wind, blowing now over the stern, did impel the punt, so that they fetched another place with slight labour, where they did essay anew with tackle of cunning fineness. But the pike (continuing of sullen disposition, the men became exceeding sad, and their countenances were like unto their rods for length. Then had they resort to meat and strong drink. Yet even as they sought material comfort, away in the north the sky shaded to a bluish grey. Swiftly the shadow advanced, hiding the face of the sun, and deepening to awful blackness until the whole heavens were covered as by a vast funeral pall. The light of day was veiled beneath its sinister touch; the wild- fowl ceased their call; and all nature seemed to pause, hushed and expectant. And lo ! as a giant aroused, the wind came down with IN DIVERS WATERS. 41 fearsome hissing sound, driving before it a blinding icioud of snow and hail, so that the two fishers became as forms seen dimly through a fog,; the while the heavens were rent by lightning and thunder. With exceeding great violence, insomuch that nought might contend against it, the blast struck the punt, whereby the anchor loosed its hold, and, the oars availing nothing, she was as a straw blown hither and thither, and did go quickly to the shore, even into the midst of many rushes. 