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 THE SILVER TROUT 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER STORIES. 
 
 SIR RANDAL II. ROBERTS, BART. 
 
 ("LIGHT CAST"), 
 
 OF LAND AXD WATER AND LATE OF THE FIELD, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "MODERN WAR," "THE RIVER'S SIDE,' " GLKNMiHRA," 
 IN THE SHIRKS," ETC. ETC 1 . 
 
 LONDON: 
 W. H. ALLEN & CO., 13 WATERLOO PLACE, 
 
 TALL MALL. S.\V 
 
 1888. 
 (All rights resen-t'd.i
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY W. II. ALLEN AND CO., 13 WATERLOO PLACK. 8 W
 
 PREFACE 
 
 MOST of the stories contained in this little volume 
 have from time to time appeared in the columns of 
 the Field and Land and Water. 
 
 I have thought publication in book form might, 
 perhaps, serve to pass away a weary hour, and afford 
 the sportsman some amusement, as treating of his 
 favourite pursuits. 
 
 If I have in any way had the good fortune to 
 accomplish my object, or to contribute one moment's 
 pleasure to my brethren of the gun or rod, I shall 
 feel amply repaid for any trouble these few pages 
 have cost me. 
 
 R. H. ROBERTS. 
 
 LONDON, April 5th, 1887. 
 
 2000028
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 TAGS 
 
 THE SILVER TKOUT : A LEGEND OF THE EIVER'S SIDE 1 
 
 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN Box - - 38 
 
 TROUT-FISHING IN THE EHENISH PROVINCES - - 68 
 
 A DAY AMONGST THE PlKE - - 90 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF ANGLING - - 98 
 
 THE FAMOUS WATERLOO KUN OF 1866 - - 108 
 
 THE BIG STAG OF THE GLEN - - 117 
 
 A " Sow JAGD " - . 125 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF SHOOTING - - 129 
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE" - - - 183
 
 THE SILVER THOUT. 
 
 $ f tgenl) of % gita's Sfltt. 
 
 IT was the height of the London season. The sun 
 glared down into the streets from a clear blue 
 sky, with never a cloud to shelter one from its 
 burning rays. I sat in my studio lazily repainting the 
 foreground of a bit of Dartmoor scenery, cursing the 
 fate that kept me, a poor artist, in town whilst I ought 
 to have been making studies from Nature in the coun- 
 try, when my door was unceremoniously thrown open, 
 and an old Oxford chum burst in. 
 
 "Hullo, old man! what's the matter? why didn't 
 you answer my letter ? " 
 
 " For the very best of reasons," I replied, " I never 
 got it." 
 
 " Confound that servant of mine. I daresay he has 
 it in his pocket now. However, there 's lots of time. 
 
 1
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 Come, pack up your things, get your fishing tackle 
 and painting things and come with me for a week. 
 I 've arranged everything. Got anything to drink ? 
 This is awfully thirsty weather." 
 
 " My dear friend, it is impossible. In the first 
 place, I can't afford it, and " 
 
 "Oh, bosh! who asked you to afford it; and since 
 when is it that such formality has sprung up between 
 Charles Haughton and Jack Leslie? Where the 
 dickens do you keep that drink ? " 
 
 " My dear Jack, you '11 find it in that cupboard ; but, 
 as to your offer, I must really decline." 
 
 " Decline be hanged," he cried, opening a bottle of 
 soda-water; "come, old man, you can pay me back 
 when that picture 's sold. By the way, how much do 
 you want for it? Never mind answering now, but 
 hurry up, and whilst you 're packing I '11 tell you where 
 we are going." 
 
 It was no use, for when Jack Leslie made up his 
 inind there was no resisting him, and, as the sequel 
 proved, this little holiday had very nearly a very serious 
 effect upon my future life. 
 
 "Have you ever been down to shire?" asked 
 
 Jack, whilst standing with his back to an imaginary fire 
 in an empty grate, with his coat-tails under his arms. 
 
 " Never," I replied. 
 
 "Well, then, you'll enjoy yourself. I'm going 
 down to stop at a farmhouse with the jolliest old
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 couple you ever knew. They 've only one bedroom, 
 but there are two beds in it. I 've sent down some 
 liquor and some other little comforts ; for the rest, 
 we must depend upon the fowl-yard and the dairy; 
 and last, but not least, I 've got three and a half 
 miles of the loveliest trout-stream within a hundred 
 miles of London. Now, old man, which prospect 
 suits you best this stifling studio or my farmhouse 
 in shire, eh ? " 
 
 " My dear Jack, your description settles me at once, 
 if I really ever had any hesitation." 
 
 " By the way, there 's a lovely old mill down there 
 that ought to pay you for the whole trip." 
 
 All I had to do was to overhaul my tackle, and 
 whilst doing this I was debating in my mind what 
 the odds were in favour of fishing against painting; 
 and I am free to confess that the chances of the 
 former predominated. All this time Jack Leslie was 
 looking over a portfolio of sketches and sipping his 
 brandy and soda. 
 
 " I '11 tell you what it is, Charley, if you won't mind 
 my saying so, there 's a want of life in your studies. 
 Why don't you stick in a girl wearing a red petticoat 
 and a blue bodice, every now and then, or something 
 like that? This is a jolly sketch (holding it up) ; ' A 
 cast up stream/ The man's capital." 
 
 " Well, old man, you 're right, and I 'm going 
 to make some studies of rustics, &c., on this orca- 
 
 1 *
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 sion." Little did I know what this would lead to 
 at the time. 
 
 A smart-going Hansom soon landed us at the 
 station, where a first-class carriage was quickly piled 
 with our impedimenta, and in a couple of hours' time, 
 after having been whirled through that most lovely 
 scenery which the home counties alone can afford, we 
 arrived at our destination. 
 
 Standing on the platform, rigged out in his Sunday 
 clothes, stood our host, as fine a specimen of the British 
 yeoman as one would wish to see. 
 
 " How be you, Muster Leslie," he commenced, 
 giving Jack a hearty shake of the hand ; " and you, 
 Sir, you be the painter, I suppose. You're welcome, 
 Sir " ; and, without waiting for a reply, and anticipating 
 Jack's question, he continued : tc The trout be a rising 
 that mad, Muster Leslie, you can scarce see the water 
 for 'em. You knows I Vaint much of a fisherman; 
 but says I to my old woman, says I, ' Muster Leslie 
 will have rare sport.' But coom on, Sir, cart 's a 
 waitin', and maybe you '11 like a seat." 
 
 "No, thank you, Joshua, my friend and I will 
 walk. It 's only a couple of miles/' he added, turning 
 to me, " and part of the road runs by the river-side, 
 going by the old mill. There 's no such thing as a 
 fly down here, old man, so you must walk unless you 
 like to be jolted to pieces in that cart." We soon 
 struck the river. What a sight to gladden the heart of
 
 THE SILVER TROUT, 
 
 any angler, much more an unfortunate, worn-out artist. 
 Fringed here and there with rows of willows, whilst 
 an occasional old pollard stretched its gnarled trunk 
 across the water, creating darksome shadows, a swift- 
 running stream, from fifty to one hundred feet in 
 width, flowed smoothly between and over long banks 
 of swaying weeds ; sometimes over a gravelly bed, 
 creating a gentle stickle ; anon gliding over an alluvial 
 bottom ; now losing itself in a sharp bend, making a 
 deep but clear eddy on the one side and a still pool on 
 the other, and finally, after a tortuous course, each 
 nook and bend of which promised a harbour for big 
 fish, the rapidity of the stream was lost in the waters 
 of an old mill-dam. Here and there, too, on either 
 bank grew a sturdy oak or a thorn-bush, whilst a 
 paling ran out into the stream, each post making a 
 refuge for a fish behind it. 
 
 And then the mill, how shall I describe it ? There 
 are mills and mills ; but the only mill the fisherman 
 loves to think of is that one the very sight of which 
 tells him intuitively that, round and about it, in the mill- 
 head and in the mill-tail, the heavy fish do congregate. 
 Yes ! the dear old wooden mill, with its red-tiled roof, 
 toned down with moss and lichen, the small quaint 
 windows, the open door just above the sluice, looking 
 up the river ; the whole building painted white, except 
 where the projecting angles are covered with the 
 equally white flour-dust : the hum of the grindstone,
 
 THE SILVER TEOUT. 
 
 as it is impelled by the old wheel, and the miller's boy, 
 lazily smoking his pipe and leaning across the foot- 
 bridge watching the swallows as they skim across the 
 mill-pool, whilst an occasional circle here and there 
 tells one that the trout are feeding. Dear reader, can 
 you see the picture ? I shall never forget it, for it is 
 here that I encountered much which had a most pro- 
 found influence upon my future life. Do you believe 
 in the supernatural? Do you believe in Fate? in 
 Kismet ? If so, listen, for I am about to tell you a 
 story, which you can believe or not, as you like a 
 story of love and a ghost fish. 
 
 I shall not pause to describe the farmhouse where 
 we stayed, or its surroundings. There are hundreds of 
 them to be seen, with all their wealth of comfort and 
 solidity, in the home counties. Four walls and a roof 
 on top, four windows, a green door and a brass 
 knocker, with a gravel path up to that said green door, 
 pretty well covers the architectural and other descrip- 
 tions. Suffice it to say that comfort and plenty 
 reigned supreme, and that for cleanliness and civility, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Whitcomb ought to take the 
 palm in any community. 
 
 We soon settled down, Jack and I, in our comfort- 
 able bedroom, unpacked oar traps, taking, of course, 
 our fishing paraphernalia down with us to the common 
 sitting-room, where a cozy table spread out for the 
 evening meal awaited us. After supper Jack and I
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 naturally fell to the task of sorting our tackle, which 
 soon covered the table, whilst old Joshua, seated in an 
 arm-chair, lit his pipe and joined us in a glass of grog. 
 
 "Well, Joshua," said Jack, extricating a mass of 
 flies and casting-lines from a tin box, " and how is Mr. 
 Tomlin, the miller ? " 
 
 " Well, Sir," replied Joshua, sipping his grog, " he 
 be main the same as ever, only a bit more cantankerous 
 about that there mill-head. You know the old story, 
 and it do seem as he grows older as if he believed 
 more in it." 
 
 " Oh ! to be sure ; the queer story, or absurd non- 
 sense, I ought to say, about the silver trout. You 
 don't mean to say he still keeps to that?" 
 
 " Indeed, but he do, Sir, and more serious nor ever." 
 
 " The silver trout/' said I. " What on earth does 
 that mean ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " replied Jack, " that is a mystery which 
 forms part and parcel of the attraction which I 
 intended you to enjoy during your stay down here. 
 Well, old man, it 'a almost a ghost story at least, a 
 fishy one." 
 
 " That it be, Muster Leslie ; my old woman and I 
 don't lay much store by such fal-lals, yet it do seem 
 kinder strange and onnatural." 
 
 "What's the mystery?" said I, beginning to feel 
 interested. 
 
 " Well," replied Jack, " I 'm not quite well up in it,
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 but Joshua here knows all about it, as, indeed, does the 
 whole country-side, for the matter of that ; so Joshua, 
 while I get this blessed tangle out, freshen your glass, 
 and tell Mr. Haughton the tale." 
 
 Thus requested, Joshua refilled his glass, settled 
 himself in his arm-chair, and told us the following 
 strange story. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen, you must know that old Bill 
 Tomlin I say old, for he must be nigh on to three- 
 score and ten and his father before him, have owned 
 the mill, and the meadow above the mill-head, for 
 many years. When old Bill was nigh on to forty-five 
 he married, and the folks they stared, because Bill had 
 always been a wild kind of a chap, and not sich an one 
 as would make a good husband. Well, gentlemen, one 
 day, just after haymaking, Bill went up to London, 
 and when he come back he brought a wife back wi' 'im. 
 The neighbour and country folk round about warn't 
 much pleased. They said there was lots of nice girls 
 about, and what did he want to go and bring a 
 stranger down to the old mill. Still they was all main 
 anxious to see her, out of curiosity like, and Bill he 
 was only too glad to let 'em do so ; and well he might, 
 for a prettier, modester, kind-heartecler, Christianer 
 young woman I never set my eyes on than Mrs. William 
 Tomlin. Lord bless yer ! Muster Leslie, if this 
 gentleman had seen her he ud 'ave made his fortuii a 
 paintin' her. When I see'd her first, says my old
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 woman to me, ' she 's kind o' delicate, Jos ' ; but I 
 
 laughed, and said that shire air would soon bring the 
 
 roses to her cheeks ; and so it did, and Bill he drove a 
 roaring trade, and all the country round come to see 
 his beautiful wife, and things went well wi' 'em. Well, 
 gentlemen, in time, the Lord, in His goodness, give him 
 three children ; but, alack ! Sirs, they was all girls, 
 and never a boy came, to hand the old mill over to ; and 
 when the third little one was born that 's Dora that 
 is now, Muster Leslie as you know, poor old Bill lost 
 his wife. Well, gentlemen, from that day it seems as 
 if nothing but misfortune come to Bill Tomlin not 
 as his business got bad, but somehow he seemed to 
 change. First, he wouldn't grind everybody's corn ; 
 then he wouldn't let anybody fish in the mill-head or 
 the meadow ; and one day, when he caught the curate 
 a fishing there, he threw him right into the river, and 
 never went to church arter. Why, I don't know, for 
 the curate was main sorry. Well, the daughters they 
 grew up, and, as time went on, they bloomed and 
 blossomed into beautiful flowers, like their poor 
 mother, and full of that sweetness and gentleness that 
 had made her loved by everyone. You '11 excuse me, 
 gentlemen," said old Joshua, wiping his eyes with his 
 coat-sleeve, and taking a strong swallow from his glass, 
 " but I get kinder foolish when I think of her and her 
 little ones, as is all gone 'cept Miss Dora as is, bless 
 her heart ! "
 
 10 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 "All gone?" said I, interrupting him, for I was 
 now fairly interested. 
 
 "Yes, Sir, I'll tell you all about it. It's a queer 
 tale ; and while I think of it, Muster Leslie, don't fish 
 the mill-head to-morrow. I know old Bill wouldn't 
 like to deny you ; but he 's been very cranky the last 
 few weeks, and maybe you would excuse him." 
 
 " All right, Joshua, go ahead with the yarn. You 
 tell it better every time 1 hear you/' 
 
 " Thank you kindly, Sir. Well the girls grew up, 
 and about three years ago the old Squire he died up at 
 the Manor House, and the place, with the shooting and 
 sporting, was let to an officer, who come down and took 
 possession. Well, somehow he made acquaintance with 
 old Bill, who was always a bit of a sportsman, yom 
 know, and he commenced to talk to Bill about improv- 
 ing the river, and said as how he wanted to put some 
 new trout in. Bill didn't like this, as he was always 
 very conservative ; but somehow the Captain he got 
 round him, and some beautiful fresh trout was turned, 
 in just above the bend of the old mill-head. I wish 
 them trouts had been all boiled before they was put 
 
 in. I wish well, excuse me, gentlemen, I'm d d 
 
 if I do know what I do wish/' said the old man, strik- 
 ing the table heavily with his hand ; " but, mind you, 
 I don't believe it. I goes to church regular, and I tell 
 you I don't believe it. About this time Bill was took 
 ill of a fever, and while he had that fever there came
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 11 
 
 upon him a feeling that those trout as was turned in 
 was a going to work mischief. One night he got out 
 of his bed when no one was watching, and got an old 
 net down as he kept for keeping the jack out of the 
 water, and he tried to drag the mill-head above, and 
 was found nigh dead on the bank. I must tell you, 
 gents, that some of these trout had been caught, and 
 they were quite white and silvery, not like our own 
 trout down here, but quite different. The Captain he 
 said it was because they were not used to the change. 
 Howsomdever, while Bill lay ill, Clara, his eldest 
 daughter, she went off, and has never been heer'd on 
 since. The Captain went away at the same time, and 
 he give up the Manor House too. Then a painter 
 gentleman come down excuse me, Sir," said the old 
 man, looking at me " no disrespect ; he took the 
 Manor House, and he come down, and he painted the 
 old mill, and old Bill, and the old mastiff, and my 
 missus, and the parson, and the church, and most every- 
 thing round; and Bill Tomlin, who had just got over 
 his illness, and was sore tried about Clara, he seemed to 
 take to the painter gentleman. Well, the painter was 
 main fond of fishing, and somehow he found that the 
 mill-head and tail, and the meadow above was the best 
 ground, especially when Miss Mary that was the second 
 daughter was about. Since Bill Tomlin's illness, the 
 neighbours said he was queer in his head. I never saw 
 it. Only he made hard bargains about grinding the
 
 12 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 corn, and put up ever so many posts warning people 
 from fishing. But one day he come down to me, and 
 I got a bit scared. Says he to me, ' Josh, do you know 
 there 's a silver trout in the mill-head, and if I don't 
 catch him, I shall lose Mary. She and the silver trout 
 is a going somehow. They 're going through the wheel 
 into the race, and then the corn will be ground blood 
 red.' I tried to soften him down ; but no, I must come, 
 he said, that night, and help him with the net. Of 
 course, I promised him, never intending, and I saw 
 him back to the mill, and I told Miss Mary I thought 
 her father was kinder strange ; but the painter gentle- 
 man was there, and she seemed only to heed him. Next 
 morning Miss Mary was gone and the painter too, and 
 old Bill lay on his bed near to his death, talking nothing 
 but about a silver trout in the mill-head. That is two 
 year ago, gentlemen, and Bill is better, although he 
 ain't heard of Clara or Mary. Dora, as you know, is 
 at home, Muster Leslie ; but what is queer is that there 
 is a silver trout left in the mill-head, and that old Bill 
 won't let anyone fish there for fear of catching it." 
 " Why not ? " I asked, deeply interested. 
 " Because, Sir, Bill says when that trout is caught 
 he'll lose his life and his only daughter." 
 
 "What bosh!" exclaimed Jack; " here, let's have 
 another drain and to bed ; I'll bet we '11 catch this same 
 silver trout." Upon which old Joshua rose, and, in a 
 most sepulchral voice, and with deep meaning, said :
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 13 
 
 " For the love of heaven, gentlemen, don't, don't try. 
 The silver trout is not a fish ; it is the spirit of 
 poor Mrs. Tomlin as has gone into a trout, so as to be 
 near all she loved, and I 'm sure of it/' 
 
 Old Joshua's story haunted me all night. I could 
 not sleep, and was up with the sun in the morning. As 
 I threw open the window and leaned out, the scene 
 reminded me of a similar one, which an Irishman a 
 natural poet whom I met in the west of Ireland, 
 thus quaintly described : 
 
 One morning bright and glorious, 
 When the wild birds sang a chorious, 
 And all nature was uprorious, 
 In the charming month of May, 
 When the lambs and trouts and horses, 
 That know not what remorse is, 
 And the salmon, whale and porpoise 
 They gambolled in the sea. 
 
 Jack Leslie was snoring hard, and I had not the 
 heart to wake him ; but back to bed I could not go. 
 That prophetic warning of old Joshua's seemed to 
 jangle in my ears " Don't fish for the silver trout," 
 and yet the very fact of being told not to do so made me 
 more anxious to find out something about this strange 
 old miller and his daughter. 
 
 The mill wasn't far off. How would it be to walk 
 down there and be back in time for breakfast ? I might 
 make a sketch, and I might well, I didn't exactly 
 know what might happen.
 
 14 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 I was soon dressed and on my way to the mill. It was, 
 I should say, about five o'clock, and a lovely morning. 
 There was not a breath of wind, and the day augured 
 badly for fishing. However, " Many a bright, sunshiny 
 morning turns out a dark and cloudy day," says the old 
 fishing song, and so I hoped it would. A short half 
 hour's walk brought me to the mill. I walked up on 
 to the bank at the mill-head, which was like a sheet of 
 glass, except where, here and there, the gentle suck of 
 a trout made a tiny ring upon the still surface. Well, 
 here was the spot of last night's curious story, and 
 here must be the "silver trout," without the shadow of 
 a doubt. I looked with curiosity at the water, reflecting 
 the while as to the exact spot whereabouts that fish 
 might lie. Just then a short cough caused me to look 
 up, and I saw an old man, very much bent, and leaning 
 on a stick, standing on the opposite bank, carrying a 
 basket in his hands. He evidently had not observed 
 me, so, taking it for granted that this must be the 
 miller, I hid behind an alder-bush and watched him. 
 First of all the old man knelt down upon the bank, and 
 commenced muttering, all the while keeping his gaze 
 fixed upon the water. Then he took something out of 
 the basket, which he threw into the water. A commo- 
 tion and a splashing ensued, and I could plainly see the 
 tail of a large trout as it broke the surface. 
 
 " The Silver Trout ! " I mentally exclaimed, and a 
 rare big fish, too. My angler's spirit was in arms. I
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 15 
 
 vowed not only to catch that fish, but also to solve the 
 whole mystery. Whilst thinking over how this was to 
 be done, I heard one of the sweetest of voices calling 
 from the mill, " Father ! father ! why didn't you wait 
 for me ? " and immediately afterwards there came 
 tripping on the scene a girl that you see only once in 
 a lifetime ; at least, I think so. 
 
 " Well, how 's the dear old trout to-day ? " she asked ; 
 
 *' and are you " Just then she caught sight of me 
 
 behind the alder- bush. "Father, there's someone on 
 the other side of the stream/' The old man looked up, 
 and, shading his eyes with his hand, said : 
 
 " So there be, girl. Coom away ; don't ee stand 
 glaring there. Coom away, Dora, I say. I dreamed 
 about it, girl, I did, and I saw them both and the silver 
 trout. Coom away ; the Captain will excuse us." 
 
 " That 's not the Captain, father/' 
 
 " Oh, yes it be ; he told me last night he was coming 
 to fish, and bring well, no matter." 
 
 " Come, father, breakfast will be ready ; let us go 
 in." 
 
 " Aye, aye, the Captain ; he '11 not be long, he '11 not 
 be long " ; and, muttering to himself, he disappeared 
 through the door into the mill with the young girl, 
 who, I naturally concluded from what I had heard, was 
 Dora, his youngest daughter. 
 
 It was now getting on to eight o'clock, and the 
 appearance of the weather had entirely altered. A
 
 16 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 south-westerly wind had sprung up, and dark clouds 
 were coming up from that direction. There was a 
 sough in the withy heads on the banks, and the rushes 
 and flags crackled as they swayed with the breeze. I 
 at once started for home, and as I went I thought of 
 the strange coincidence that had introduced me at once 
 to the principal actors in the drama which I had 
 listened to the night before the miller, his daughter, 
 and last, but not least, " the silver trout." 
 
 When I got back, I found Jack Leslie on the lawn 
 busily putting his lod together. I did the same, for 
 he had brought my tackle down as well. He asked me 
 where I had been, and I answered, somewhat reticently, 
 that I had strolled down to look at the river, and to 
 see if the fish were feeding. 
 
 What a fishing morning it was, as we stepped out 
 on the gravel path after breakfast. The weather had 
 now assumed that aspect which the fly-fisherman 
 always prays for, and but seldom gets a warm, south- 
 westerly wind, with driving showers, alternate darkness 
 and sunshine. 
 
 "Now, old man," said Jack, "there is little to 
 choose as to water, only that the lower half has the 
 advantage of the mill-head ; but as I think we 'd better 
 not touch that at any rate, on the first day after 
 what Joshua told us last night, you 'd better go to the 
 head of the water, and I '11 take the lower bit." 
 
 " Oh, no," I replied; "we'll do as we always do,
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 17 
 
 and toss," For I had determined to fish that mill- 
 head, and to learn a little more, if possible, of the 
 miller and his daughter. 
 
 " Call ! " cried Jack, as the coin went spinning in 
 the air. For once I felt nervous. 
 
 " "Woman, it is." 
 
 " You 're right ; well, of course, you '11 go to the 
 top." . 
 
 " Not a bit of it. I fancy that about the middle of 
 the day I shall want to make a sketch of the old mill, 
 as I shall be tired by that time ; so go ahead, old chap, 
 and we '11 meet at lunch time." 
 
 " All right, we can change to-morrow ; meanwhile, 
 here we are about the middle of the water, only I 
 rather think I 've got the better of you, for the mill- 
 head and the meadow above take a good slice of water 
 away, so I ought to show more fish than you at lunch 
 time; but mind, don't fish the meadow or the mill- 
 head ; we '11 do that when I 've had a chat with old 
 Tomlin. Au revoir." 
 
 I watched Jack Leslie, as he left me, swishing his 
 rod and whistling the " Flowers in the Spring/' from 
 the Mikado, and then I made my way to the river. 
 
 The fish were rising everywhere, and the Olive 
 Duns were coming down in myriads, whilst here and 
 there an Alder fly flopped heavily on the water. It is 
 a curious fact that on large rivers the Alder is com- 
 paratively small, whilst on small rivers or streams it 
 
 2
 
 18 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 is generally large, at least so it has always seemed 
 to me. 
 
 The very sight of those rising fish and some of 
 them looked heavy ones filled me with excitement 
 and increased my desire to catch them. The miller 
 and his daughter, the Silver Trout, and old Joshua's 
 story, all gave way to 'the one prominent feature 
 fishing. Besides, Jack Leslie had gone, as he said, to 
 the best water, and, good or bad water, had I not for- 
 gotten as much as Jack Leslie ever knew about trout 
 fishing, and so I stood upon the bank with a double- 
 handed trout rod in my hand, taking stock of the river 
 and its surroundings. 
 
 I may be wrong, and am always open to practical 
 conviction ; but, on such a river as I was fishing, and, 
 indeed, on any of the streams in the home counties, I 
 am confident that a double-handed rod is the proper 
 implement. My reason is I can stand farther back 
 from the bank, and so command the water ; and that 
 when the line is thrown the length of the rod enables 
 me to keep clear of teazels, or what not, that encumber 
 the bank nearest to me. 
 
 How often have I stolen up, crawling and creeping, 
 to a rising fish with a single-handed rod, and, when 
 almost within reach, have been caught up in a teazel* 
 and had to extricate the line at the cost of scaring the 
 fish, while with a double-handed rod, say of 14 feet, 
 this ought never to occur.
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 19 
 
 I scanned the water carefully before putting up 
 my cast, and it seemed to me as if I could do no 
 better than mount the Olive Dun at the end of a fine 
 gut collar, which was stained with green baize. I 
 selected what I considered as perfect an imitation of 
 that ephemera as fur and feathers could represent. A 
 fish was rising under the bank immediately opposite to 
 me, and I put the fly over it in a delicate and gingerly 
 manner not a stir ; twice it went sailing over its very 
 nose never a move. The fourth time the fish rose 
 almost immediately after the fly had passed, clearly 
 proving that I had not scared it by any previous opera- 
 tions. However, it was evident this was not the fly. 
 Just then a shower came on, and suddenly the fish 
 stopped rising; the surface of the river, which a 
 moment before had been covered with circles, was now 
 completely tranquil. 
 
 I sat down, and as I did so an Alder fly lumbered 
 on to my cheek. Perhaps this is it, thought I ; and 
 on went an Alder. 
 
 Now, I have seen Alders and Alders, but, except 
 amongst my personal friends, never have I seen them 
 tied after my own fancy. For the benefit of my 
 readers, I give them the pattern : Body, orange floss 
 silk, over which a bronze Peacock herl is twisted, so as 
 to leave the orange floss silk visible between each two 
 turns, a small portion of the silk being left at the tail, 
 but not as a tag. Wings taken from the Bustard, 
 
 2 *
 
 20 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 matched to the colour of the natural fly and dressed 
 flat. Horns, two strands of a soft black hackle.* 
 
 Much as I love the fly, on this particular occasion it 
 was no good. I tried hard over every rising fish ; no 
 go. What, then, were they rising at ? The problem 
 was soon solved, though by accident. Whilst in the 
 act of creeping up to a rising fish I kicked against a 
 bunch of rushes and flags, out of which fluttered a 
 heavy, light-coloured fly, which, taken by the wind, 
 dropped into the middle of the river, and was imme- 
 diately seized. I soon caught another, and found it to 
 be the Sedge fly. On went the Sedge, and two minutes 
 after I had the satisfaction of drinking the health of a 
 lovely two-pound trout as it lay in the bottom of my 
 landing-net. 
 
 Then commenced the fun. After each shower the 
 fish rose freely, and stopped the moment the rain- 
 drops pattered on the water. Unconsciously, I ap- 
 proached the prohibited ground, the meadow next to 
 the mill-head. As I clambered over the fence I 
 marked a heavy fish down close to the opposite bank 
 immediately under an old pollard. " That 's a 
 whopper," I mentally exclaimed, " and if there is any 
 virtue in ' fine and far ' I '11 add you to my basket. 
 
 A slight detour into the meadow brought me a little 
 below and opposite to the fish ; down I went on my 
 
 * Dressed by Bernard, Church Place, Piccadilly.
 
 THE SILVER TEOUT. 21 
 
 knees, and as I did so the trout rose again. The 
 moment the fly went over it up it came and I struck, 
 but the line came back without the welcome strain ; 
 that I had not touched it I felt certain ; would it come 
 again ? I let it rest for a couple of minutes, during 
 which time I saw no signs of the fish, and then, trem- 
 bling with excitement, I once more cast over the spot. 
 
 This time the hook went home, and with a shake of 
 the head and a heavy roll away went the trout down 
 stream. Across the water at the end of the meadow a 
 chain had been stretched, and it was evident, if I could 
 not stop the fish before it got there, I must lose it ; 
 but to arrest the career of a 5 Ibs. trout as I felt 
 certain this one must, at least, be was no easy matter. 
 Whizz went the winch, my good old greenheart rod 
 was bending almost double, and still the fish made for 
 the chain, which, to add to my difficulties, was covered 
 with weeds. 
 
 I dared not show the butt any more, and began to 
 despair of the capture, when the fish suddenly stopped, 
 and came racing back up stream like a mad fellow ; so 
 fast, indeed, that I had to run back into the meadow 
 in order to keep a tight line. 
 
 The cause of this mad rush was soon explained. 
 Coming through the gate on the opposite side was the 
 same young girl I had seen in the morning with the 
 old miller, and in her white muslin dress and large 
 Leghorn hat, with a background of pale green willows,
 
 22 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 she made as fair a picture as one would wish to look 
 upon. Her entry upon the scene had, for the moment, 
 diverted my attention, although, with true Fisherman's 
 instinct, I still kept a tight line upon the fish. 
 
 " He '11 be into the weeds in a minute, if you don't 
 mind," cried a tuneful voice, " you 've got hold of one 
 of the big ones"; and then she went on excitedly, 
 "I 'm sure you won't be able to land him yourself; 
 I '11 be round in a minute," and off she went back 
 again through the gate. 
 
 Well, thought I, this is an adventure with a ven- 
 geance ; and then the tug tug, jigger jigger of the fish 
 reminded me I had something else to think of ; besides, 
 what a mortification it would be to lose the fish under 
 such conditions. Just then Dora Tomlin joined me, 
 having possessed herself of my landing net, which was 
 sticking up in the next meadow. 
 
 " I used to be a good hand, Sir, with a landing net,* 
 she commenced, in a sort of apologetic manner, " and I 
 felt sure you would not be able to land that fish with- 
 out someone, and so I and so but perhaps you'd 
 rather " and she blushed and stammered. 
 
 I proceeded at once to explain to Miss Tomlin how 
 glad I was of her assistance, that nothing on earth 
 should induce me to take that fish without her aid. I 
 think, in my confusion, I told her that I was always in 
 the habit of having a lady to land my fish, and much 
 preferred them to a keeper or male attendant, and was-
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 23 
 
 going on in a like strain, when she stopped me with 
 " There ! he 's making for the old pollard stump. 
 Take care, or you '11 lose him." 
 
 The extra pressure I put on brought the fish up, and 
 it sprang into the air, showing its noble proportions. 
 
 f< What a beauty ! " exclaimed my companion. " I 
 hope you won 't lose him." 
 
 The fish was now getting tired, and, marking a clean 
 spot just below where I was standing, I coaxed it down 
 stream. What was my surprise to see Miss Tomlin, 
 without a word of instruction, get below the fish, drop 
 the net into the water, and wait until, exhausted and 
 gasping, I brought it within reach. Then, without the 
 slightest hurry, she slipped the net under, and landed 
 the trout on the bank. 
 
 That I was not only delighted and surprised goes 
 without saying, and whilst admiring my capture, I ex- 
 pressed a hope that I was not trespassing, as I now, 
 for the first time, observed the locality I was in. This 
 led to a conversation and to a mutual introduction. 
 When my fair companion heard that I was an artist 
 her delight knew no bounds. Would I paint a picture 
 of the mill ? and would I let her watch me while doing 
 so ? and would I mind her asking me not to fish the 
 mill-hdad ? It was a whim of her father's who was not 
 very well. If she 'd asked me to stand on my head in 
 the middle of the river I should have done so at once, 
 I think. Somehow or another we had seated ourselves
 
 24 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 upon the bank, and the finest trout in the world would 
 have had no attractions for me, nor do I think I should 
 have thought anything more about fishing had not a 
 " halloo " in the distance warned me that I was on 
 earth with mortals and not in heaven with an angel, and 
 that that mortal was Jack Leslie. She heard it too, 
 and, getting up, wished me good day with a sweet 
 smile, adding : 
 
 " I lost my brooch the other day, leaning out of the 
 boat on the other side, just opposite here, when the 
 water was muddy, and so I came to look for it to-day." 
 
 As she was going I ventured to ask permission to 
 call upon her and show her some of my sketches, 
 which she granted, and so we parted. 
 
 A few minutes after Jack appeared with five and a half 
 brace of trout. I had only one and a half brace. Did 
 I tell him the reason ? No, dear reader. Would you ? 
 
 It was very lucky for me that Jack's eye was fixed 
 upon my last capture. If he had not been intent upon 
 admiring the proportions of that fish he could not have 
 failed to perceive the flutter of a white muslin skirt in 
 the next meadow, as it disappeared in the direction of 
 the mill. As for me, I became suddenly intent upon 
 unpacking the contents of the luncheon basket. 
 
 " I say, old man/' said Jack, suddenly turning upon 
 me, " I thought we had agreed that you were not to 
 fish this meadow." 
 
 " Well, yes," I replied, mendaciously fishing out a
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 25 
 
 lettuce from the bottom of the basket ; " but, you see, 
 I don't know the water as well as you do ; and I saw 
 this beggar rising, and I really did not stop to look at 
 the locality come on, let's have lunch. ' 
 
 " All right, old man/' and, coming towards me, he 
 remarked : " That 's about as perfect a specimen of the 
 Salmo fario as has ever been taken out of these waters. 
 How the dickens did you land it ? What the devil is 
 this ? " he queried, stooping to pick up a lady's glove, 
 with eight buttons. 
 
 Of course, if that glove had had only one button, or 
 even two, I might have found an excuse ; but, no, this 
 one seemed to me to have about forty. The situation 
 was rather awkward. " By Jove ! it is a lady's glove," 
 I ventured, looking at it as if I 'd never seen such a 
 thing before. " What a lot of buttons it's got, and 
 and what a little one ! " 
 
 '' Yes," said Jack drily, and looking me straight in 
 the face, " my impression is the same. It is a lady's 
 glove." 
 
 " Well, never mind what it is. I 'm awfully hungry ; 
 come on." I at once proceeded to demolish the wing 
 of a chicken. 
 
 That brute Jack stuck that delicate and adorable 
 glove on the top of a thistle, and gave a prolonged 
 whistle that irritated me : it was not so much the whistle 
 as the way in which he looked at the glove and then at 
 me when he did so.
 
 26 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 " I suppose it will be the correct thing," I ventured,. 
 " to give that fish to the miller, won't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, I '11 send the boy down with it, with my 
 compliments," he replied, opening a bottle of Bass. 
 
 " You '11 send it ? Confound it ! I caught it, and I 
 ought to take it." 
 
 " But you don't know the miller and there '11 be a 
 row ; besides, I shall be able to take this glove down, 
 at the same time. I fancy it must belong to Miss 
 Tomlin ; so while you go and fish the upper water after 
 lunch, I'll stroll on down to the mill and apologise for 
 your trespassing." 
 
 I was very fond of Jack Leslie, and would have done 
 anything in the world for him, but this was too much. 
 
 That Miss Tomlin should have her glove returned by 
 anyone else than myself I could not for a moment 
 endure, and so I said, with as much equanimity as 
 possible, " Well, all right, you take the fish and I '11 
 take the glove." 
 
 " Why ? " he retorted, and there was a world of 
 meaning in the query. 
 
 " Division of labour, you know. Besides, I want to 
 make Mr. Tomlin's aquaintance; I want to ask per- 
 mission to make a study of the mill, and then, you 
 know, you said you 'd arrange for me to have a throw 
 on the mill-head, and with this wind there must be a 
 fine curl on it. Besides, there 's no particular hurry, 
 is there ? I fancy the lower end here, and, as you seem
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 27 
 
 to have done so well up above, it 's a pity you shouldn't 
 stick to it for the rest of to-day." 
 
 Jack Leslie got up without answering a word ; he 
 filled his pipe, very carefully, lit it, and then took up 
 his rod, basket and net, and, raising his flask, he said 
 " Houghton, you go to the top of the class. Here 's 
 your good health," and sauntered off to the upper 
 water. 
 
 I employed myself leisurely packing up the debris of 
 the lunch, and then despatched the boy with it to the 
 farmhouse. Fortunately there was no one in sight. 
 The glove being still on the thistle, I edged gradually 
 nearer and nearer, and finally, after a furtive glance 
 around, I pounced upon it. 
 
 Why I should have taken such an interest in this 
 glove I did not then know. After all, it was only a 
 lady's glove, and all I had to do was to put it in my 
 pocket, go on fishing, and return it when the proper 
 time came. Why I looked at it, smoothed it, and then 
 smelt it, I can't make out ; but I did, and then, to tell 
 the truth, I kissed it. 
 
 Just at that moment a shower came on, and I hid 
 the precious gauntlet in my bosom, taking refuge 
 under the hedge. The shower passed, the fish began 
 to rise again, but the river had no longer any charms 
 for me. I took up my rod almost mechanically and 
 sauntered to the edge of the stream. Heavy waves 
 rolled over the shallows, as the fish started on catching
 
 28 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 sight of me, but I heeded nothing. I lazily flicked the 
 fly on to the water without aim or reason. I was 
 thinking of Dora Tomlin, of the circumstance that 
 had brought us together, and as I thought I remem- 
 bered the incident of the brooch which she had come 
 to seek. Why should I not look for it ? 
 
 Here was an inspiration which was seized with avi- 
 dity. I flung my old good Blacker rod down. I divested 
 myself of my coat, fishing basket, &c., and began 
 cautiously to examine the water. She had indicated 
 the spot, but, after careful searching, from my side I 
 could see nothing of it. I must cross, but where ? 
 The stream was uneven as to depth, and apparently 
 treacherous as to bottom. I looked up and down ; the 
 chain was my only chance ; besides, by going below 
 the spot I should not muddy the water. On reaching 
 the spot I found there were two chains, one placed 
 considerably below the water, which seemed to me to 
 offer the facility I required. I commenced my journey 
 by placing my feet on the lower chain and grasping 
 the upper one. All went well till I neared the centre, 
 when, to my horror, I found the lower chain gradually 
 giving way. Yes, the water was already trickling in 
 over the tops of my waders. I struggled, I floundered, 
 but it was no use, in I went up to my armpits : but, 
 still grasping the upper chain, I got to the opposite 
 bank, and crawled up covered with weeds, looking like 
 a drowned rat.
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 29 
 
 All the romance of half an hour ago had been washed 
 out of me, and I thought of nothing except my 
 situation if Jack L'eslie should return, or even Dora 
 Tomlin. I pulled off my wading stockings- and emptied 
 them, wrung my clothes, and then literally hung 
 myself out to dry. Fortunately, the sun was very 
 warm as I walked briskly up and down the bank to 
 assist the drying process. In my peregrinations I passed 
 the spot where the brooch was supposed to have been 
 dropped. Did my eyes deceive me ? No, there was 
 certainly something shining at the tail of that weed, 
 and in less than no time I was in the water and back 
 on the bank, holding triumphantly in my hands a 
 silver brooch, beautifully modelled in the shape of a 
 trout. Had I indeed caught the Silver Trout? and 
 then the prophetic words of old Joshua occurred to me, 
 that " on the day a silver trout was taken out of the 
 river the miller would lose his life and his only 
 daughter." 
 
 It was true I had got the brooch and that my clothes 
 and waders were dry enough to put on, but how was I 
 to get back to the other side of the river ? I could, of 
 course, go round by the mill, but there I ran the risk 
 of meeting Dora, and, of course, I should have to 
 account for being without my coat, and of necessity 
 return the brooch. Just then I remembered that 
 there was a small foot-bridge, some two meadows up, 
 that I had not thought of, and I at once made my way
 
 30 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 towards it, all the while ruminating as to what I should 
 do with the brooch and whether I should tell Jack 
 Leslie anything about it. Then tKere was the glove 
 business ; what was I to do about that? I was prepared 
 to be most unmercifully chaffed by Jack ; that I knew 
 was inevitable, but how to get out of the business 
 without compromising myself, I knew not. 
 
 Pondering on these matters, I arrived at the foot- 
 bridge and was about to cross, when a roar of laughter 
 caused me to look up, and there, as ill-luck would 
 have it, was Jack Leslie, fishing in the adjoining 
 meadow. 
 
 " What on earth is up now ? and what are you doing 
 without your coat ? " 
 
 As a rule I am not in want of an answer under any 
 ordinary situation, but this was a poser. Jack Leslie 
 came towards me, and I braced myself to meet the 
 situation. 
 
 " What are you doing on that side of the river, old 
 man ; and where the deuce are your coat and traps ? 
 What '& the matter with you, man ? Why don't you 
 answer ? " he shouted, as I was hesitating. 
 
 " I suppose I am not responsible to you for all my 
 actions/' I answered sulkily. " I crossed over the 
 river to look at something I saw on the opposite side." 
 
 " Oh, indeed, and to do that you took off your coat 
 and went round by the mill, I suppose ? " 
 
 " No, I didn't go round by the mill But there,
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 don't bother, Jack, that 's a good fellow. Fact is, I 
 fell into the river trying to cross by the chain, and I 'm 
 going home to change. By Jove ! Look at that lovely 
 fish feeding under the willow. You are a duffer if you 
 can't catch him ! " 
 
 In a moment Jack had forgotten everything, and I 
 left him creeping up the bank intent on the capture of 
 that trout, whilst I made my way to where I had left 
 my traps. Arriving at the spot I at once determined 
 to return to the farmhouse and change my clothes, 
 and as I went I questioned myself as to what was the 
 meaning of the interest I felt in this miller's daughter. 
 What was she to me? Hadn't I seen lots of pretty 
 girls much prettier than Dora, and yet I had never 
 bestowed as much thought upon them as I had upon 
 Dora Dora! The very name sounded so soft as I 
 whispered it to the summer wind. Yes, Dora was an 
 awfully pretty name! 
 
 I walked slowly back to the farm. Under usual 
 circumstances, had I been going to change my clothes, 
 I should have used much more dispatch, but now, 
 somehow, I felt as if I didn't care to get back to my 
 fishing. What ! not go back to the river ? Why, what 
 had come over me ? Trout-fishing was the one dream 
 of my life, as I painted away in my dreary studio ; a 
 day's trouting was looked forward to and prepared for 
 weeks before ; but to-day, somehow, I thought I was 
 tired that I had fished enough for the first day ;
 
 32 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 that my waders were not dry, and, in fact, that I 
 would fish no more that day. 
 
 But I was not too tired to take a canvas, my colour- 
 box, sketching easel and umbrella, and walk back to the 
 old mill at the rate of five miles an hour. Now I did 
 not particularly want that umbrella, as there were plenty 
 of trees, but it occurred to me that a white umbrella 
 stuck in a conspicuous place on the bank of the mill- 
 head must attract attention from the mill. Yes, 
 probably the miller's boy will come out and see what 
 it was, or the cook, or the gardener, and then, perhaps 
 well, we would see. 
 
 I planted myself in the most open spot, and in full 
 view of the window of the miller's house. I placed my 
 canvas on the easel, and I commenced sketching the 
 outline of the mill. Somehow or another my eyes 
 were more often kept upon those windows than upon my 
 canvas, and the perspective of the lines I had already 
 traced were most wof ully out of drawing. Just then 
 the old miller appeared in the porch, followed by his 
 daughter. Were they coming this way ? My heart 
 was absolutely thumping against my ribs. Yes, they 
 were coming. What should I do ? What should I 
 say ? As they approached, I felt I was blushing like a 
 boy. 
 
 " You see, Miss Tomlin, that I have taken advantage 
 as soon as possible of the permission given me, and 
 have left Mr. Leslie to fish by himself."
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 33 
 
 " You are quite welcome, Sir. Indeed, any friend of 
 Mr. Leslie's is always welcomed here." 
 
 A sudden thought flashed across my brain. Could 
 I have made a mistake ? Was the girl who had crept 
 into my heart in so short a time also beloved by my 
 friend? And why not? Had not Jack known them 
 for years? Could anyone see Dora Tomlin and know 
 her without loving her ? I must be mad I was a fool, 
 a dolt, an idiot. Miss Tomlin interrupted my thoughts 
 by introducing me to her father, at the same time 
 adding, e ' He is not quite right in his mind, and takes 
 you for someone else ; pray humour him." 
 
 I bowed, scarcely knowing what to do or what to 
 say. The old man seemed to take no notice of me ; 
 but, keeping his eyes fixed on the water, muttered: 
 " The time is near; I am coming, wife. The captain 
 is here. He has come at last, but he is alone. Jt is 
 better, wife, to hide our shame." Then, turning to 
 me, he said, abruptly : 
 
 "Why did you stop away so long, and where is she ? " 
 
 Dora answered, " Dear father, this is Mr. Haughton, 
 a friend of Mr. Leslie's/' 
 
 The old man passed his hand across his forehead, and 
 then, coming to me, held out his hand, and, in a 
 rational voice, he said, ' ' You are welcome, Sir. Indeed, 
 any friend of Mr. Leslie's is always welcomed. I hope 
 you have had good sport ? There are plenty of fish,, 
 and good ones, if you can catch them/' 
 
 3
 
 34 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Haughton," cried Dora, " are you going 
 to begin to paint ; because, if so, I should like to stop 
 and watch you that is, if I may ? " 
 
 Half an hour ago, had Dora asked me that, I should 
 have replied in quite a different way ; but that speech 
 of hers about Jack Leslie rankled in my mind. 
 "Certainly, Miss Tomlin/' I said, "if you wish it; 
 but, to tell you the truth, I don't feel up to work, and 
 I was on the point of stopping as, somehow or another, 
 I cannot draw to-day/' 
 
 " Then perhaps you will join us in a cup of tea ; it 
 is about time. Your things will be all safe here/' 
 and, in a lower tone, added, " You must not mind 
 father. He has suffered a great deal, as I daresay Mr. 
 Leslie told you. Will you come ? " 
 
 There was nothing for it ; I had better go. Besides, 
 I could return the glove and the brooch, and see what 
 effect that might have, and so I followed Dora Tomlin 
 and her father into the cosiest of parlours, full of 
 woman's surroundings and occupations, with the sweet 
 scent of flowers coming through the windows and the 
 urn steaming upon the table. I must confess I felt a 
 sort of tightness at the heart as I watched Dora 
 Tomlin's graceful figure presiding over the tea-table. 
 Could there be anything between her and Jack ? That 
 was the all-absorbing question. 
 
 " I expect Mr. Leslie in to tea,'' she remarked 
 quietly.
 
 THE SILVER TROUT. 35 
 
 " Do you really ? " I answered, hardly knowing 
 what I did say. 
 
 "Yes, he generally comes in before the evening 
 fishing, as he calls it." 
 
 Well ! what was there in that ? Why shouldn't be 
 come in to tea in the same way that I had ? Just then 
 Jack passed the window. 
 
 " Ah ! here he is ; I thought he wouldn't forget tea- 
 time." 
 
 As Jack Leslie entered the room the old miller was 
 seated upon a couch close to the window, looking out 
 on to the mill-head. Dora was at the tea-table and I 
 was leaning against the mantel-piece. I see the picture 
 now. Jack paused at the door. 
 
 " Well, I'm sure/' he cried, " you have not taken 
 long to make acquaintance. I looked for you as I 
 came down the river, for the purpose of bringing you 
 in and introducing you, but I see that 's unnecessary. 
 May I venture to inquire how this came about ? " 
 
 " Presently, Jack," answered Dora. " Sit down and 
 have your tea.'* 
 
 Jack ! She called him Jack ! It was all over. My 
 romance was gone. That one word had shattered my 
 hope, my dream, and Dora was no more to me at that 
 moment than any other girl. I made up my mind at 
 once. 
 
 ',' Well, you see, Jack," I said, "I came down to 
 sketch, was invited by Miss Tomlin to tea, and I 
 
 3 *
 
 36 THE SILVER TROUT. 
 
 thought I would take the opportunity of returning her 
 a glove she had lost whilst landing my trout for me, and 
 a brooch I found which must be hers." 
 
 Jack indulged in a prolonged whistle. 
 
 "A brooch, did you say? " cried Dora. 
 
 " Yes, a Silver Trout." 
 
 " A Silver Trout ! " cried the old miller, springing 
 to his feet. "Who knows anything about ' the Silver 
 Trout'? Did you say you had caught the Silver Trout? 
 Do you know what you have done ? You have com- 
 mitted murder, cold-blooded murder; you are an 
 assassin; you you J ' and the old man fell back upon 
 the couch gasping for breath. 
 
 We were at once by his side. The bell was rung 
 and a man sent immediately for the doctor. The old 
 miller lay insensible, a small stream of blood trickling 
 slowly from his lips. Gradually his eyes opened, and 
 were fixed upon Dora and Jack. 
 
 " Lift me up," he murmured. " It has come true. 
 I knew it." Then taking Dora's hand, he placed it in 
 Jack's. " Take care of her Jack The Silver Trout. I 
 am coming, darling wife ; I am coming, to you/' and 
 sank back a corpse. , 
 
 I have little more to add. I was terribly shocked at 
 having been the innocent cause of such a catastrophe, 
 and to my dying day shall never forget it. It is need- 
 less to say that Jack explained to me afterwards the 
 situation. How he had wooed and won Dora long
 
 THE SILVER TEOUT. 37 
 
 ago, and how he had intended to tell me all about 
 it at supper in the evening. And so the legend 
 came true. The day that a Silver Trout was taken 
 out of the river the miller would lose his life and his 
 only daughter.
 
 38 
 
 Jp HAVE heard that the famous saying attributed 
 j to Dr. Johnson, when describing an angler, 
 u A worm at one end and a fool at the other/* 
 was not written by that worthy and astute philosopher 
 at all. Well, all I can say is that if he had said a fly 
 at one end and fool at the other, it would be more 
 applicable to my case. Now, I want to be quite plain 
 with my readers, as plain as my wife says I am, and as 
 plain as the fishing I understand. I have always been 
 fond of fishing ever since I was a very small lad. In 
 those days the Paddington Canal, the Serpentine, the 
 Ornamental Water in Kensington Gardens, and the 
 ponds about Hampstead and Highgate were my fishing 
 grounds, and for the moment I was content. 
 
 Unfortunately, one Christmas my father, who was a 
 carpenter, gave me a box. 1 've got that box still, and
 
 THE MAN WITH THE GEEEN BOX. 39 
 
 even now it contains the remains of old chrysalises, dried 
 up and mummy-like ends of worms, split float caps, 
 odd pieces of gut, rusty hooks, fish scales, and such-like 
 mouldering piscatorial reminiscences. I don't believe 
 there 's money enough in the world to tempt me to part 
 with that dear old green box for, of course, it was 
 painted green with its narrow strap, that has many a 
 time cut my shoulders to pieces, not with the weight 
 of fish within it, but with the impedimenta in the 
 shape of tackle and bait which I considered it necessary 
 to stow in its multitudinous trays and divisions. I 've 
 had a good mind to send that box some of these days, 
 to put in the window of Land and Water. Well, of 
 course, after getting this box, and my uncle having 
 given me two rods, I abandoned my old fishing 
 localities and sought pastures new and more worthy of 
 such a fit-out. These were the lower waters of the 
 Lea, and the New River from Broxbourn down, with 
 an occasional day on the Reservoir at Cheshunt, the 
 Welsh Harp, and the Thames as far as Kingston. 
 
 My father wanted me to follow his trade, but I did 
 not seem to take to it, first of all because the hours were 
 too long, and would curtail my piscatorial pursuits ; 
 and secondly, because I was in love, and she did not 
 approve of a carpenter for a husband. So, after a good 
 deal of trouble, I got a situation in the city in a large 
 wholesale leather house, where I laboured very hard 
 for nigh on to thirty years, never neglecting my fish-
 
 40 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN BOX. 
 
 ing, and eventually becoming the head of the firm, 
 with plenty of time and plenty of money to prosecute 
 my predilections for the river side. 
 
 In the meantime I had married. My wife did not 
 approve of my love of fishing, and upon one occasion 
 we were very near a separation, when I heard her give 
 an order to the servant to light the kitchen fire with that 
 " nasty green box." It was then that the blood of the 
 Joneses was aroused. What ! burn my green fishing- 
 box, the companion of my earliest fishing excursions ; 
 that box which, by the way, was about the size of an 
 ordinary portmanteau that I had treasured for so 
 many years, upon whose lid, whilst seated on the bank, 
 I had caught innumerable colds and very few fish. It 
 was too much. I am not going to relate the language 
 I used upon that occasion, but the box was not burnt. 
 
 Of course, all this while I read with avidity the 
 columns of those periodicals devoted to fishing. I went 
 down to the Thames regularly on April 1 to try for a 
 trout, which, I may say, I have never caught. I joined 
 an angling club, and became vice-chairman. I could 
 not sing or make a speech, or else I 'm sure I should 
 have been made chairman. I bought some pictures by 
 Rolfe ; I had the largest of my fish stuffed, and I once 
 wrote a fishing song, which I got somebody else to 
 sing at the monthly meeting of our society. 
 
 I soon began to be known as " The Man with the 
 Green Box " that is, in the immediate neighbourhood
 
 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN BOX. 41 
 
 of London ; and once yes, perish the day ! I went to 
 have a day's trout-fishing in Hampshire with one of 
 our customers, and from that day the usual placid 
 and satisfactory results of my piscatorial wanderings 
 received a rude shock. 
 
 Hinc ilia lachryma). 
 
 My friend was an enthusiastic fisherman that is to 
 say, from his point of view. The only fishes he cared 
 to angle for were the lordly salmon or plucky trout. 
 It is true, I had ventured occasionally to allow my 
 mind to wander upon such topics, but I had always 
 nipped those ideas in the bud, as being far too high a 
 flight for my means or my ability. Throw a fly ! Why, 
 it had taken me two years of hard labour to cast a spin- 
 ning bait decently, and then five to put a bait, much 
 less a bleak, upon a flight of hooks and make it spin, 
 and then considerable time to " travel " for chub with 
 Nottingham tackle, and now to cast a fly ! Mercy ! I 
 fancied I could hear the whiplike crack of the gut as 
 my fly was lost at every swish of the rod. Oh, no, 
 coarse-fishing was good enough for me and yet, and 
 yet, well, why shouldn't I try ? and so I accepted my 
 friend's invitation. 
 
 I bought a fly rod with sundry misgivings as I tried 
 its capacity, very awkwardly and much to the amuse- 
 ment of the fishing-tackle maker. I bought a book of 
 flies with their names on each page and the months
 
 42 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN BOX. 
 
 they were used for, a round tin box for casting lines, 
 and a basket. I got up very early every morning and 
 I went into the back garden to practise, and I succeeded 
 in breaking both top joints of my rod, two panes of 
 glass in the kitchen window, hooking a favourite fowl 
 of my wife's, that gave me the best sport with the fly, 
 up to the present time; I have ever had, spraining my 
 wrist, and giving myself such a pain in the back that 
 lumbago was a joke to it. 
 
 Well, the eventful day came and I met my friend at 
 the Waterloo Station. I had some slight hopes that 
 upon this auspicious occasion some members of our 
 society might have been on the platform to see me off. 
 It would have looked well, I thought ; but no, there 
 was no one there, and, in addition, I was half an hour 
 too early. Never mind. I contemplated my fishing 
 paraphernalia, as it was heaped up on the platform, 
 with intense satisfaction. The green box was there. 
 What ! do you think I 'd have gone without it ? Perish 
 the thought. And so was my bundle of rods for 
 coarse-fishing, resting lovingly on its lid. For, argued 
 I, perhaps I mayn't get on with the trout, and then 
 surely there '11 be some eddy were I can, at any rate, 
 find some coarse fish. I took up the basket, and put 
 it on ; I thought I looked better that way j and then 
 I took up the fly-rod in its new case, and then, some- 
 how or another, I felt as if that old green box and 
 bundle of bottom fishing rods didn't look quite respect-
 
 THE MAN WITH THE GEEEN BOX. 43 
 
 able, and that I ought not to identify myself with them ; 
 so I lounged away. Just then my friend joined me. 
 After shaking hands, his eye suddenly lit on the old 
 green box. 
 
 " Some bank fisherman going down to fish the 
 Basingstoke Canal," he remarked, with a curl of the 
 lip, and a short, aggressive laugh. 
 
 " I suppose so/' I answered at once, making up my 
 mind not to own proprietorship, and as he lounged 
 away I surreptitiously gave a porter sixpence to put 
 them in the baggage van and label them to our desti- 
 nation. I don't think this was quite fair to the old 
 green box, but then you must remember that my 
 friend was not aware that I had never thrown a 
 fly in my life, and if there is a thing an angler is 
 more sensitive about than another, it is to appear 
 not to know all the branches of the gentle art ; and 
 so, full of guile, I got into the carriage. It was the 
 first week in May, and our conversation was on this 
 wise : 
 
 HE. " These last few days of warm weather ought 
 to have put the water in good order, and the fly should 
 be up pretty strong." 
 
 I. " Yes ; I should think the flies must be very 
 strong just now." 
 
 HE. " Eh? What do you say? " 
 
 I. " Me ! I quite agree with you ; they ought to 
 be ' very fine and large.' '
 
 44 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN BOX. 
 
 HE. " Ah ! capital. I suppose, as usual, we shall 
 find the iron-blue dun in myriads." 
 
 I. " I should say so, too," not having the remotest 
 conception what he was talking about. 
 
 HE. "I hope you have brought a double-handed 
 rod ; you want to fish far and fine on this water." 
 
 I. " Oh ! I think I 've got what will do." My heart 
 going into my boots at the reminiscence of the back 
 yard, and the difficulty I had to get ten yards out. 
 
 HE. " I told the keeper to meet us, and, as you 
 don't know the water, he 'd better go with you." 
 
 I. "D the keeper I mean, if you don't mind, 
 
 I 'd rather go by myself. You see, I like being alone 
 when I am fly-fishing." 
 
 HE. " Oh ! I see. Sly dog. But I '11 keep my eye 
 on you." 
 
 I. " Will you ? Well, I don't think that 's fair. I 
 think our pitches ought to be quite wide apart." 
 
 HE. " Pitches ! What on earth do you mean ? " 
 
 Just then the train came into a station, and, I am 
 thankful to say, further conversation was interrupted, 
 several people getting into our compartment. My 
 mind, too, was exercised as to what I should do about 
 my box and bundle of rods, and, whilst deliberating on 
 this, we arrived at our destination. 
 
 Yes ! the arrival of that train was fortunate and 
 opportune. I had made up my mind what to do. Of 
 course I must wire to my wife as to my safe arrival
 
 THE MAN WITH THE OBEEN SOX. 45 
 
 and to do this I must of necessity go into the telegraph- 
 office. There was my chance to get rid of that green 
 box. But unfortunately, as we stepped out of our 
 compartment my friend's malcontent eye was fixed on 
 the green box ; it had just been put on the platform. 
 " Confound it ! " he cried, " here 's that fellow come 
 down here. What does he want ! Oh ! well, I suppose 
 some private carp pond, or something of that kind, 
 for, of course, the very idea of anything but the 
 legitimate was gall and wormwood to my friend's high- 
 flown piscatorial ideas. I must say I suffered between 
 the desire to hold up the prestige of my old green box 
 and to sever my connection with it altogether as 
 entirely opposed to my now advanced ideas of fishing. 
 I got to that telegraph office, and, what between my 
 anxiety that no harm should happen to my bete noir, 
 or rather green, and that my friend should not see the 
 ruse, I hardly knew whether I stood on my head or my 
 heels. I wired : " Green box all right ; don't know 
 what to do with it." I believe, when iny wife got 
 that wire, she had a strong fit of hysterics at least, I 
 know that the spirit case suffered. As I came out of 
 the telegraph-office, I saw my friend talking to a tall, 
 thin man in velveteen coat, with long leather leggings 
 up to his waist, and a lot of flies stuck in the top of 
 his hat. The moment I saw that man I felt him to be 
 my natural enemy; and, as I glared at him, I knew he 
 was the keeper. They went into the refreshment-room,
 
 46 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN SOX. 
 
 and now was my opportunity. I got hold of a porter, 
 and told him to send the box, with the rods, by the 
 first opportunity down to the hotel, and say that a 
 gentleman would call for them. Then I lounged into 
 the refreshment- room and joined my friend and the 
 keeper. 
 
 " Ah ! here you are," he said. " What will you 
 have ? This is the keeper, and he tells me the water 
 is in splendid order, and, as I expected, the fly is very 
 strong." 
 
 The man with the leggings touched his hat looked 
 me all over, and I am almost sure that he smiled, and 
 an evil smile it was. However, I thought I 'd better 
 make friends and perhaps put on a little " side," so I 
 casually remarked that I was glad to hear about the 
 flies, as I had found that when the flies were strong 
 the fish were, as a rule, equally fine and larger. At 
 that he burst into a loud laugh, then I felt a cold 
 shiver go down my back, and wished myself on the 
 banks of the lake at the Welsh Harp, or anywhere but 
 where I was. How I hated that man. At last we got 
 into a fly and drove to the hotel. My friend got down 
 first and went into the hotel. I was following, when I 
 heard him give a shout, and as I entered the door the 
 cause of that shout was explained. There was my 
 green box, with the bundle of rods, in the middle of 
 the hall. The keeper followed me in, and he, too, 
 went up to examine it.
 
 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN BOX. 47 
 
 " What the deuce is the meaning of this ? " my 
 friend said. " That confounded box has followed us 
 everywhere. Who does it belong to ? And what the 
 devil can he mean by bringing such tackle down to 
 the Itchen ? " examining the rods. 
 
 " Well/' suggested the keeper, " perhaps he 's going 
 to swim a worm for grayling, but not on my water, if 
 I knows it ; and where else he can go I don't know, 
 unless it be on the miller's bit, and if I catch him try- 
 ing that game on, I '11 make it hot for him. Why, Sir," 
 said he, looking me straight in the face, " we caught 
 one of these London bank fisherman a-trying that sort 
 of thing here last season, and what do you think we 
 did to him?" 
 
 I expressed my inability to form any opinion as to 
 what should be done in such a case. 
 
 " Well, Sir, we made him swallow his bag of worms. 
 He ! he ! " 
 
 " Good gracious ! " I exclaimed, " you ought to have 
 been well punished." 
 
 " Oh ! not a bit, Sir. Anybody who tries bait-fishing 
 on the Itchen gets no sympathy from anyone down 
 here." 
 
 " Well, confound the box ! " cried my friend, " we 
 are wasting time. Let 's get down to the water." 
 
 My hour was come ; now for it. I don't think, in 
 the whole course of my life, I ever hated the bank of 
 a river as much I did that bank of the Itchen on that
 
 48 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN BOX. 
 
 day. I put my rod together in a sort of dazed state, 
 the keeper wanted to help me, but I refused his assis- 
 tance, so he went to my friend. I ran the line through 
 the rings, and then I pondered what to do. I lit a 
 cigar and watched my friend. He was choosing a fly 
 out of his box good ; of course I must do that, but 
 what fly ? Oh ! to be sure, had I not got my fly-book, 
 with the names of the flies written against them ? Of 
 course, it was quite easy. I looked up May. I saw 
 yellow dun and red spinner, also hare's-ear dun. I 
 looked at the water, and I tried to see the flies that 
 were so strong, but I couldn't see anything. Just then 
 the keeper came to me and said, pointing to the 
 opposite bank : 
 
 " There's a grand fish feeding at the tail of that weed, 
 Sir." 
 
 " Is there ? " said I. " Well, let him feed ; it will 
 do him good. I don't want to disturb him." 
 
 " Beg pardon, Sir," said the keeper, " I don't quite 
 understand? I was telling you there was fish feeding 
 
 at There he is, Sir ! He must be a good three 
 
 pound. You can just reach him nicely/' 
 
 " Well, but I think my friend ought to have first 
 chance ; besides, I 'm not quite ready. You go and tell 
 Mm." 
 
 I thought that was a good stroke, and the moment 
 the keeper's back was turned 1 extricated a fly from 
 my book, which was in the pocket, labelled " Yellow
 
 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN BOX. 49 
 
 Dun." I couldn't see anything yellow about the fly; 
 on the contrary, it had white wings and a bronzy body. 
 However, there it was, so I attached it to the end of 
 my reel line, and then I betook myself down the river's 
 side as far from my friend as possible, with the advan- 
 tage of a high hedge intervening. What happened to 
 me there will be told the reader, upon the distinct 
 understanding that it is kept a perfect secret between 
 us, for if it were to come to the ears of any member of 
 our Piscatorial Society, I feel sure I should be asked 
 to resign. 
 
 Yes ! that hedgerow was a vantage coign for me. I 
 could, in the first place, not only hide my operations 
 from my friends and that fellow with the leggings, but 
 I could also watch what they did and act accordingly. 
 Now, when I say " act," I mean that in such a situ- 
 ation no one could blame me for endeavouring to 
 look as little like the fool I really felt. The only way 
 that I can account for putting myself into such a situ- 
 ation is, as I before remarked, the innate dislike that 
 anyone aspiring to piscatorial honours has of showing 
 a want of knowledge upon angling subjects generally. 
 As I gazed upon the river and then peeped through 
 the hedge, I thought to myself how much better it 
 would have been had I, in the first instance, made a 
 clean breast of it and acknowledged my inability and 
 my utter want of knowledge of even the common rudi- 
 ments of fly-fishing. Then, too, there was that box 
 
 4
 
 50 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN BOX. 
 
 the fatal green box. Well, no matter ! I must face it 
 out now. Was I not vice-chairman of the "Friendly 
 Bumble Bee Anglers " ? Of course I was, and under 
 the circumstances perish the thought of my taking 
 a back seat ; and so I peered through the hedge. This 
 is what I saw : 
 
 My friend was crawling upon his knees towards a 
 bit of long grass, rushes and what not that grew upon 
 the bank. The man with the leggings was on his knees 
 holding the landing-net. My friend, as he crawled 
 backwards and forwards, was swishing his rod, what for 
 I couldn't imagine, though it reminded me of my re- 
 hearsal in our back yard. Then, all of a sudden, the 
 point of his rod was lowered, and as he raised it again 
 I distinctly heard an exclamation. He 's got him, 
 thought I, and I began to get excited, but no, the rod 
 remained stationary and did not bend. Then the man 
 with the leggings commenced crawling on his stomach 
 up to the bank, and then I knew my friend was hung 
 up in a teazle or bush. There was a good deal 
 of fumbling, a great many muttered curses, before the 
 keeper had crawled back again and my friend had re- 
 paired damages. Well, thought I, this isn't half as 
 good fun as- sitting on my old green box watching my 
 float travel over a well-baited swim, besides crawling 
 goodness ! I weigh over eighteen stone, and my 
 physical proportions are not adapted to such acrobatic 
 performances. " If I must do that, I '11 give it up/' I
 
 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN BOX. 51 
 
 said to myself. Just then I heard someone whistling 
 the " British Grenadiers/' and, looking down the river, 
 I saw a boy coming along, his hands in his pockets, 
 and making straight for me. At the same moment, 
 too, my eyes caught sight of a shed in the field, and a 
 sudden inspiration seized me. I put down my rod and 
 advanced to meet him. He was not a pleasant-looking 
 boy, but he appeared guileless, and I think he had the 
 thickest and biggest boots on I ever saw. 
 
 " Good morning," said I, quite familiarly. 
 
 " How do, Sir," replied he, making a sort of upward 
 movement of his hand. 
 
 "Want to earn a shilling ? " I queried. 
 
 " He ! he ! " was the answer. 
 
 " Oh ! you don't ? " 
 
 " Yes, but I do, mister." 
 
 "Well," said I, "you go to the hotel in the village, 
 take this note to the landlord, and he '11 give you a 
 green box and a bundle of rods. You bring them down 
 to that shed, and wait there for me." 
 
 "Ees, Sir," he said, about to depart. 
 
 " And remember/' I added, " don 't you let anyone 
 see you till I come, or you won 't get that shilling." 
 
 " Ees, Sir " and he was gone. 
 
 Now this was my inspiration. I knew very well that 
 I could not do anything in the fly-fishing line, and I 
 also knew that I had a lot of brandlings beautifully 
 scoured in a flannel bag in the green box. If I could 
 
 4 *
 
 52 THE MAN WITH THE GEEEN BOX. 
 
 circumvent my friend and the keeper, I should, I 
 thought, not go back empty-handed ; and if they caught 
 me- well, all I could do would be to make a clean 
 breast of it, and defy the keeper to make me swallow 
 my bag of worms. In the meantime, I must endeavour 
 to do the best I could, and at any hazard get rid of 
 them. 
 
 Just then a shout came from the other side of the 
 hedge, and, looking through, I saw my friend had 
 hooked the fish. I scrambled through, tearing my 
 trousers and falling into the ditch on the other side ; 
 panting, muddy, and bleeding I arrived on the spot and 
 witnessed the struggle. In my excitement I rushed 
 at the keeper and tried to take the landing-net away ; 
 this the " Leather Stocking" resented. 
 
 " Let me land him," I appealed to my friend. 
 
 "Certainly, give Mr. Jones the net." 
 
 Never shall I forget the moment ; the fish was nearly 
 done, and I could see his broad, speckled side and 
 yellow belly as he turned up in his last struggles. I 
 seized the landing net, and rushed to the bank. 
 
 " Easy ! easy ! get below him " ; but no, there he 
 was, the first trout I 'd ever seen caught. Just then 
 the bank gave way and I slid in up to my middle. 
 
 " Confound it ! Look out, or you 'U break the cast." 
 
 But no, my soul was in arms and eager for the fray. 
 I dashed the landing-net at his head, the gut parted, 
 and I sat down in the river up to my armpits. Oh !
 
 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN BOX. 53 
 
 horror. That keeper pulled me out, and the remark 
 he made I shall never forget. My friend, who is good- 
 natured, simply said, " D n it." I said nothing. 
 
 Picture ! 
 
 Of course, being wet through, there was nothing to 
 be done but to go back to the hotel and change, so 
 making all sorts of excuses to my friend, and telling 
 him I would follow him and he was not to stop, I put 
 my rod in a safe place and returned to the hotel, and 
 as I went I thought that some men's adversity was 
 other men's opportunity ; and here was mine, for 
 assuredly I would now be able to lose my friend and 
 " Leather Stocking." On my way to the hotel, I am 
 free to confess, I was not much in love with myself. I 
 felt I had suffered in the estimation of my friend and I 
 knew that in the keeper I had a mortal enemy. On 
 my way I met my boy with the " green box " and the 
 rods, and I stopped for a moment to give him his 
 directions, and also to take a little refreshment from 
 my flask. It was then I was first struck by the 
 originality of his remarks. This is what occurred. 
 After partaking, I was screwing on the top of the flask, 
 when he said : 
 
 " I suppose you don 't know I 'm a teetotaller ? " 
 
 Thinking this was meant by way of reproach, I 
 handed him my flask. 
 
 " Oh no, thank 'ee; I don't drink nothing but 
 milk ! "
 
 54 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN SOX. 
 
 I apologised. A pause. 
 
 " I suppose you don 't know my father died of a 
 broken heart ? " 
 
 I confessed my ignorance, and said I felt very sorry, 
 upon which, without any further remark, he got up, 
 and, as he shouldered the green box, said : 
 
 " I suppose I '11 meet you at the shed, and I suppose 
 you won't forget that shilling," and went off whistling 
 " The British Grenadiers." 
 
 When I got to the hotel I made the landlord 
 promise he would not say to whom that green box 
 belonged. 
 
 After changing my clothes, partaking of some hot 
 port wine negus, and having lit a cigar, I felt more at 
 ease. The only thing that disturbed my mind was as 
 to how I was to use those brandlings, and that without 
 the knowledge of my friend and the lynx-eyed keeper. 
 Well, I would think of some plan on my way back to 
 the river. 
 
 On the road I began by trying to remember all the 
 articles I had read on worm-fishing for trout, but the 
 more I pondered the more I thought that such methods 
 as were suggested in those articles were not applicable 
 to a river like the Itchen. Again, I could not fish with 
 a float amongst those long banks of waving weeds. No, 
 that would not do. I remembered Stewart's method ; 
 but, then, I had not got any tackle like that. How 
 about a ledger ? Ah ! that perhaps might work ; and
 
 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN BOX. 55 
 
 just then I arrived at the shed. About three-quarters 
 of a mile lower down I could see my friend attended 
 by the keeper, apparently hard at work. I looked into 
 the shed, and there was my green box and bundle of 
 rods sure enough, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. 
 Going round to the back of the shed his absence was 
 explained. Running through the meadow, and im- 
 mediately at the back of the shed, was a small stream 
 emptying itself into the main river, and about two 
 hundred yards from its mouth was a lasher of sluice, 
 doubtless made for damming the water back, so as to 
 flood the meadows in a spell of dry weather. The little 
 stream being pretty full, the water was boiling and 
 seething through an open hatch in the middle of the 
 sluice, and making quite a little pool below it. From 
 the constant action of the water against the soft soil of 
 either bank this had been widened out into a hole of 
 some fifteen or twenty yards across. Close to the edge 
 of this hole, kneeling with his back towards me, was 
 my quondam attendant, the " Suppositionist." In his 
 hand he held a hazel stick, some six feet in length, to 
 which, as far as I could see, was attached a piece of 
 string. His actions denoted the greatest caution. He 
 would first peer round the corner of the shed in the 
 direction of the hotel, and would then look towards the 
 spot where my friend was fishing. Then he would 
 raise the hazel stick and swing the attachment into the 
 hole in front of him. " Well/' thought I, " / suppose
 
 56 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN BOX. 
 
 he must be fishing ; " and I was about to call to him, 
 when I saw the stick bend ; there was a splashing in 
 the hole, and a minute afterwards a lovely trout was 
 literally hauled out by the head, and lay kicking on 
 the bank. In a moment I was master of the situation, 
 and I felt that I should be in a position to show some- 
 thing of a bag. I still watched his proceedings. 
 Having taken off the fish he placed it carefully 
 out of sight in a bed of nettles, and then pro- 
 ceeded to hide his primitive tackle in the thatch of the 
 shed. Just as he had completed his task, and had 
 whistled the first bars of the "British Grenadiers," a 
 loud cough made him aware of my presence. That 
 boy's face was a picture, and the look of stupidity he 
 put on as I approached was beyond description. 
 
 " I suppose you ain't been back long ? " he queried. 
 
 " About ten minutes/' I replied, making straight for 
 the bunch of nettles. 
 
 " I suppose you know," he added, endeavouring to 
 intercept me, " that this is a goodish hole for a trout ; 
 they works up here from the river." 
 
 "I suppose I 'do," said I, steadily advancing, and, 
 kicking the weeds on one side, I discovered five lovely 
 trout, laying side by side, the last capture just 
 vibrating in the agonies of death. 
 
 "Where do these come from?" I asked, looking 
 him straight in the face. 
 
 " Why, they be trouts," he replied, looking at them
 
 THE MAN WITH THE GEEEN BOX. 57 
 
 in the most innocent manner. " I suppose you don't 
 know there was a flood last week, and I suppose they 
 got left on the bank when the water went down." 
 
 This was too much. I forgot that I had been 
 proposing to myself the same method. I only re- 
 membered that I was vice-chairman of the " Friendly 
 Bumble Bee Anglers' Association," and that I had 
 witnessed an act of deliberate poaching. 
 
 " You young vagabond ! " I exclaimed ; " those fish 
 have only just been freshly caught. Bring me that 
 stick you hid just now under the thatch." 
 
 "I supposed you wanted some trout, mister, and 
 they ain't easy to catch," he remarked, with a broad 
 grin, not stirring a step, and taking up the last 
 capture ; " but if so be as they 're only just caught, 
 perhaps they '11 live, I '11 put 'em in the river again." 
 
 That boy fairly took my breath away. 
 
 " Put down the fish at once, Sir, and listen to me. 
 You know, if I were to tell the keeper what I saw just 
 now, what would be the consequence. Now, I don't 
 want to do that, but " 
 
 " I suppose you don't know my sister died of a 
 broken heart," he blubbered. 
 
 So much family distress touched me. Placing my 
 hand on his shoulder, I said, " Bring me that stick 
 and show me how you caught them, and we '11 see." 
 
 I think he saw determination in my eye, and so, 
 still sobbing, he produced his primitive tackle a
 
 58 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN SOX. 
 
 hazel stick, a piece of silk line, a rough bit of lead 
 and a single gut hook, on the end of which still 
 dangled the remains of a worm. It immediately 
 flashed across me that if this boy, with such tackle, 
 could succeed, what sport I could have with finer and 
 more appropriate appliances. 
 
 " Now, look here, my boy," said I, " I don't want 
 to be hard upon you, and I do want some trout. I've 
 got some splendid worms in that green box, and if 
 you will keep quiet, I '11 give you half-a-crown, and I 
 won't tell the keeper what I saw." 
 
 " I suppose you don't know, Sir, that I learnt how 
 to catch the trout out of this hole from a famous 
 fisher that came from Lunnon. He always caught 'em 
 that way, and I never said a word, I didn't, only " 
 
 " Only what ? " 
 
 "Well, I suppose you don't know he gave me five 
 shillings ? " 
 
 The bargain was then and there sealed and our 
 arrangements made in this wise: The boy was to 
 climb on to the roof of the shed and give me timely 
 warning of the approach of my friend and the keeper. 
 He was then to return to the hotel with the green 
 box and bundle of rods, and I was to take to my fly- 
 rod and make the best show I could. 
 
 In a few minutes I was ready, and stealing down 
 cautiously to the lower portion of the hole I pitched 
 my worm right up under the sluice and let it float
 
 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN BOX. 59 
 
 down towards me keeping a moderately tight line. 
 About half-way down there was a stoppage, and I felt 
 a sharp tug. I struck smartly, and was in my first trout. 
 Oh, the joy of that moment ! Unfortunately I tried 
 to haul him out on the boy's principle, which resulted 
 in breaking the tackle and smashing the top of my 
 rod. Never mind. What did I care for a thousand 
 tops, so, after repairing damages, I went to work again. 
 I caught two fish, one of 1 Ib. and one of If Ibs., 
 and then my sentinel gave me due warning of the 
 return of my friends. Never mind, I had 3 brace 
 of trout, and I felt in the wildest spirits. 
 
 The boy was packed off to the hotel with the box 
 and the rods with instructions to wait my return ; the 
 trout was put into my basket, and I once more 
 resumed that, to me implement of torture, my fly-rod. 
 Of course it now behoved me to make a semblance 
 of fly-fishing. I approached the river proper and 
 commenced operations. In endeavouring to get out 
 my line I caught in a bush behind ; then the fly 
 caught in the back of my coat immediately between 
 my shoulders, so I had to take off my coat to get it 
 out. Then I got round a bush growing on the bank 
 nearest to me and nearly fell into the river in trying 
 to get clear. 
 
 All this while the reader must remember that I had 
 omitted to put on a casting line, and had fastened, in 
 the most primitive manner, what I supposed to be a
 
 60 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN BOX. 
 
 fc yellow dun " on to ray winch line. The perspiration 
 rolled down my cheeks, my back ached, and, laying 
 down my rod, I sat down in despair. 
 
 Then I looked into my basket, and felt comforted. 
 The next evening was to be the weekly meeting of the 
 " Bumble Bees." I would then exhibit my take, and 
 I should feel myself the most important man in the 
 room. Whilst ruminating on these matters my friend 
 joined me. 
 
 " What have you done ? " he cried. 
 
 " Oh, nothing much," I answered, in the most 
 nonchalant tone; "only three and a half brace, and 
 I 'm about done up." 
 
 "Three and a half brace! " he exclaimed; "good 
 gracious ! what fly, eh ? " 
 
 " The yellow dun," I replied, lazily puffing my cigar. 
 
 " Well, that 's curious. I Ve only taken a brace, 
 and I know this river backwards. Let 's see them." 
 
 " When we get up to the hotel," I answered; " it 's 
 getting late, and if you 're ready I am." 
 
 Whilst talking I had not perceived that the fiend of 
 a keeper had taken up my rod, but an exclamation 
 made me turn round, and then I saw he was examining 
 my tackle. Advancing with the fly in his hand he 
 remarked, dryly, that he never knew a fish to look at 
 a "coachman" so early in the day. My friend, too, 
 observed with a peculiar look, " Why, you 've got no 
 casting line." Now it is extraordinary how easily
 
 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN BOX. 61 
 
 lying comes to one, especially about fishing, so I 
 replied that the last cast I had in my box was lost by 
 a fish running me into the weeds, and that was another 
 reason why I should go back. 
 
 " You can take that rod to pieces, keeper," I added, 
 " I '11 stroll back." 
 
 But my friend was also tired, and so we left the 
 keeper to bring on the rods, etc., and sauntered back 
 to the hotel. On our way my friend congratulated 
 me on my prowess, and remarked that such a perfor- 
 mance in bright weather was simply first-class. I 
 modestly answered it was probably my luck, to which 
 he replied there was no such thing as luck upon the 
 Itchen. I am of his opinion. 
 
 As we entered the hotel the landlord met us. 
 He asked if we were ready for dinner, to which I 
 replied in the affirmative. 
 
 " I am afraid/' he said, " you will have to wait a 
 little, gentlemen, as I have had to provide a little more, 
 not expecting the lady." 
 
 " The lady!" we both exclaimed. I looked at my 
 friend, and he looked at me. " I don't expect any 
 lady," I said. 
 
 "No more do I," echoed my friend; "there must 
 be some mistake/' 
 
 " Beg pardon, Sir, I think not. The lady said she 'd 
 had a telegram about a ' green box/ and I told her 
 it was all right, and it was here/'
 
 62 THE MAN WITH THE GREEN BOX. 
 
 I could have dropped where I stood. " Where is 
 she ? " I exclaimed wildly. 
 
 " In the sitting-room, Sir, waiting for you." 
 
 I staggered to the door, closely followed by my 
 friend. I turned the handle and entered, and there, 
 seated in an arm-chair, was Mrs. Jones, my better 
 half, and how shall I tell it ? the green box beside 
 her ! Tableau. 
 
 Well, of course, further concealment was useless. 
 I called for strong brandy and water, and my wife told 
 me not to be a fool. My friend sat down and fairly 
 screamed with laughter, and, to make my cup of 
 misery full, that boy came in and handed me my bag 
 of worms, apologising for his neglect in omitting to do 
 so before. Dear reader, I have not been fly-fishing 
 since I shall never go again ; and the moral to be 
 learnt from this episode is, I think, obvious : " Never 
 let your vanity so far get the better of your com- 
 mon sense as to make you ashamed of acknowledging 
 your ignorance/'
 
 63 
 
 TROUT-FISHING- 
 
 IN THE 
 
 RHENISH PROVINCES, 
 
 ^(pT will be unnecessary for me to enter into the 
 Jf details as to the best route to be taken to reach 
 the Rhenish provinces from England. Suffice it 
 to say that that most excellent publication, Bradshaw's 
 Continental Guide, gives every possible information of 
 the way to reach Cologne, which should be the place 
 fixed upon as a starting point. I have, as nearly as 
 possible, commenced my narrative in the centre of 
 these provinces, and propose to begin with the lovely 
 valley of the Ahr. As it is my intention to describe 
 the rivers of this district, with their capabilities for 
 affording sport, and the best places to go to, confining 
 myself simply to those that afford really good or fa^r 
 fishing, let me commence with certain conditions to
 
 64 TROUT-FISHING 
 
 which every Englishman must make up his mind, if 
 he is not acquainted with the language, and if he has 
 had no experience of Germany and Germans. First, 
 that he will have to pay for what he gets, not so ex- 
 travagantly as in England, but more than he ought ; 
 and, secondly, that in many of the places I am about 
 to describe neither French nor English is spoken ; 
 furthermore, that in many parts of Germany where 
 formerly fishing was to be had to any amount, the 
 people have found out its value, and charge accord- 
 ingly. Nevertheless, I say that trout and grayling 
 fishing is within reach of very many in this country 
 who could not possibly afford it in England. 
 
 Having, then, arrived at Cologne which, by the 
 way, can be reached in a cheaper way, by booking 
 yourself first-class only as far as Dover, paying for 
 the steamer to Calais or Ostend on board, and then 
 travelling second-class the remainder of the distance, 
 taking care to get your luggage looked at as soon as 
 possible on arrival at Calais, or the through carriages 
 may be all taken up, and you will have to change half 
 a dozen times. Having arrived at Cologne you book 
 yourself to Bonn, or Remagen, by rail. I prefer the 
 latter, as by driving up the valley of the Ahr you see 
 the most magnificent scenery. Arrived at Remagen, 
 go to the Hotel Furstenberg, where Otto Carraciola, 
 the landlord, if he is still alive, will give you a good 
 bottle of wine Mem. Ask for Marcobrunner (white),
 
 IN THE RRENISH PROVINCES. 65 
 
 or Walporzheimer (red) and from thence take a 
 carriage and pair to Alienator. At Altenahr there are 
 two hotels, a daily post, and newspapers. I can 
 strongly recommend this as a first-rate head-quarters, 
 for from it you can make excursions to no less than 
 five or six rivers, besides the streams and brooks, 
 which I am about to describe ; the landlord boards 
 and lodges you at so much per diem, according to 
 agreement, and the fishing is, I believe, still free. 
 Having, therefore, landed my readers at my starting 
 point, I shall now endeavour to describe a few of the 
 rivers and brooks that intersect the Rhenish provinces 
 like a network, commencing with the lovely and 
 romantic stream of 
 
 THE AHR. 
 
 The river Ahr is, perhaps, one of the most favoured 
 of rivers in Rhenish Prussia, for it flows throughout 
 its course along a valley never at any time more 
 than half a mile in breadth, from whose edges rise a 
 most precipitous range of slaty mountains. Following 
 the course of the winding river, the sides of these 
 mountains, as far as Dumpenfeld, are clothed with 
 vineyards, which produce the Ahr wine, and the 
 famous Walporzheimer, or red wine, of the district. 
 The scenery is truly rugged and imposing, and, setting 
 aside the fishing, the beautiful and magnificent 
 panorama is alone worth seeing. The river, flows 
 
 5
 
 66 TROUT-FISHING 
 
 over a rocky, gravelly bed, and is one continued 
 stream, affording fishing every foot of the way, there 
 being scarcely any flats whatever, but a continua- 
 tion of streams and waterfalls. In the early part 
 of the year in April and May the river is of a 
 considerable size ; but as the summer advances it 
 recedes, and becomes much smaller, though still as 
 large as the Wandle (to take an English instance), and 
 in places larger. 
 
 The Ahr rises in a wine cellar near Blankenheim, and, 
 after a tortuous course of some thirty miles, empties 
 itself into the Rhine at Remagen. The river contains 
 trout, grayling, chub, dace, gudgeon, stone-loach, and 
 minnows. Of the first- mentioned viz. trout some 
 fifteen years ago it was an easy matter to fill one's 
 basket with them, varying from a quarter of a pound 
 up to three pounds weight ; but since the railway has 
 been opened to Remagen, the constant request for 
 trout by the various visitors to Altenahr, both German 
 and English, has caused a considerable diminution of 
 these fish j for the natives are not only up to burning 
 the water, which they often resort to, but they also go 
 out with pouch nets, so that between them and the 
 coarse fish who eat their spawn the poor trout have a 
 bad time of it. Notwithstanding this, a good basket 
 of fish can easily be killed, though not of such a 
 size as formerly, whilst a three-pound trout is a 
 rara avis. If, however, the trout get a bad time of
 
 IN THE RHENISH PROVINCES. 67 
 
 it, the grayling do not thus suffer, for, fortunately, 
 foreigners do not appreciate this beautiful fish, and 
 this kind of fishing is consequently very good. For 
 my part, I would almost as soon have a good day's 
 grayling fishing as trout-fishing, especially in the Ahr, 
 where they run to a good size. As to chub, they are 
 a perfect nuisance, and here any Thames chub-fisher 
 would go frantic with delight, as you may take them 
 four or five pounds in weight. This river in the early 
 part of the year is subject to frequent floods, which 
 clear off as soon as they come, twelve hours generally 
 making the river fishable. 
 
 So much for the Ahr, its inhabitants and charac- 
 teristics. I now propose mentioning the best portions 
 of the river to fish, how to get at them, and the 
 best flies for various times of the year. I intend to 
 be somewhat particular, as a day is very often lost by 
 not knowing the water, and hours are wasted upon 
 places where a passing cast or two would have proved 
 sufficient. 
 
 Before proceeding with my description of the river 
 Ahr, let me, for the benefit of my readers, state what 
 are a few necessary adjuncts to the kit of anyone 
 wishing to fish any of the streams which I am about 
 to describe. 
 
 A single-handed rod will command any stream to 
 be fished in this country ; but I must confess that I 
 lean to a double-handed one, from the advantage it 
 
 5 *
 
 TROUT-FISHING 
 
 gives you to keep out of sight, fish far, and keepa 
 the line away from teazles, &c., on the bank. I would 
 have, therefore, a good general two-handed rod, of 
 fourteen feet in length, and a single-handed rod for 
 brook-fishing. A landing-net is absolutely necessary ; 
 and, above all, wading stockings many a light basket 
 should I have had had it not been for them. Don't 
 forget to bring your own soap, tobacco, and, if you are 
 a tea-drinker, your own tea. Let me also add to this 
 list a gridiron, on which you may sometimes cook 
 yourself a chop which will be no slight delicacy, 
 believe me. Also some sort of contrivance for 
 catching minnows is necessary ; and a quantity of 
 coarse gut and flies, to give away to the natives, often 
 get you a good day's fishing. 
 
 The river Ahr rises, as I stated above, in a wine cellar 
 near Blankenheim, some sixteen miles from Altenahr, 
 which latter is decidedly the best station as head- 
 quarters on the river. I divide the river into eight 
 parts, any of which is ample and more than sufficient 
 ^or a good hard day's fishing. The first beat is from 
 Aremberg to the village of Schuld. No. 2, from 
 Schuld to Dumpenfeld; in this portion there is 
 nothing but a mountain track, but at Dtimpenfeld 
 you get the high road, which is excellent. At Dum- 
 penfeld there is also a delightful brook running to 
 Adenau, of which more hereafter. No. 3 is from 
 Dumpenfeld to Briick. No. 4, from Briick to
 
 IN THE RHENISH PROVINCES. 69 
 
 Putzfeld. No. 5, from Putzfeld to Altenahr. No. 6, 
 from Altenahr to Meyschloss. No. 7, from Mey- 
 schloss to Ahrweiler ; and No. 8, from Ahrweiler to 
 Sinzig. Of these I prefer Nos. 8, 2, and 6, especially 
 the last for grayling ; but the upper waters of the Ahr 
 are the best for trout. 
 
 The fishing from Ahrweiler to Sinzig is very mode- 
 rate, and in some cases not worth going to. The best 
 flies for the Ahr are the March brown in spring for 
 trout, with the iron- blue dun ; whilst for grayling the 
 ^ery best flies are the following : No. 1, orange body, 
 ribbed with peacock harl with a cock-y-bondhu hackle 
 at the shoulder, dressed as to size according to suit 
 the water. No. 2, peacock body, gray hackle at shoul- 
 der, and a red sprig of macaw for tail. No. 3, a dirty 
 yellowish body, with a light dun hackle; the duns 
 dark, yellow, aud orange, also do well. Above all, let 
 every man bring a good stock of red spinners, large 
 and small, which are decidedly the best general fly. 
 The months of May and part of June are the best on 
 this river, and it is absolutely useless to go there 
 before, as the river is full of thick, greenish-coloured 
 'water, and the fish do not take at all. Some heavy 
 trout may be taken under the falls with a minnow, and 
 the worm is very effective in warm months. 
 
 My readers must not suppose that fish are easily 
 taken here; far from it. It requires a good fisherman 
 and fine tackle to be successful ; but, at any rate, there
 
 70 TROUT-FISHING 
 
 are plenty of them. An average day's sport on the 
 Ahr ought to yield from two to three brace of trout 
 and from five to six brace of grayling. There are some 
 days, however, when a much larger basket can be 
 taken. I remember fishing the Ahr many years ago, 
 when I was a boy learning to speak German, and it 
 was no uncommon thing for me to fill my basket with 
 trout, some of them 3 Ib. weight ; of course of these 
 there were only a few. But I have taken as many as 
 seventy-five trout out of the Ahr in one day, commen- 
 cing at half-past seven in the morning and fishing till 
 eight at night, between Schuld and Altenahr. This, 
 however, is a retrospect. The stream is excessively 
 clear, and the fish being continually disturbed are con- 
 sequently very shy and require a deal of catching. The 
 mill-fall, just above Altenahr, holds some good trout ; 
 as also the stream below it. There is a famous grayling 
 stream opposite Altenburg, the next village above 
 Altenahr ; and the fall between Altenburg and Kreiz- 
 berg may be fished with success. Do not pause to fish 
 any more water about Kreizberg, but proceed at once 
 beyond the village, and fish the first heavy stream 
 below the next fall ; missing the next flat, fish the 
 streams under the church at Putzfeld, and if you are 
 anything of a hand I shall warrant me by this time 
 you have got a fair basket. Trout are in first-rate 
 condition in the Ahr after the 1st of April, although 
 they do not rise by any means freely; yet the
 
 IN THE RHENISH PROVINCES. 71 
 
 minnow will do some mischief. I have found a 
 March brown, tied in the following way, very effec- 
 tive : Tail, two strands of a dark woodcock hackle, 
 body a mixture of brown mohair, yellow, and a little 
 hare's ear, woodcock wings, and legs a dark wood- 
 cock hackle ; the whole tied with copper-coloured silk. 
 The Prussian laws relative to the renting and manage- 
 ment of fisheries have of late undergone a very great 
 change. Some few years ago they were placed upon 
 exactly the same basis as the regulations respecting 
 shootings, but for some unaccountable reason they 
 have been altered. At present the law stands thus : 
 The fishings are put up to public auction every nine 
 years, and the highest bidder becomes the proprietor ; 
 but everyone who possesses two inches of ground on 
 the river can object to such rental, this objection 
 being valid, and should the river be taken or rented in 
 the face of such objection, the objector has a right to 
 angle over the lessee's water to the extent of such water 
 as is comprised in the limits of his parish. Further- 
 more, the lessee of such a piece of water has the right 
 to avail himself of any means he may think fit, to 
 assist him in catching the fish on such a piece of 
 water. And, lastly, fish prosecutions are rare, and 
 never end in anything but smoke. The consequence 
 is that the fish lead a bad time of it in those localities 
 where fish are appreciated, and where the taking of 
 them is a question of . s. d. ; but I am happy to say
 
 72 TROUT-FISHING 
 
 that there are still places, and many of them, where 
 the angler need fear no hindrance, and where perhaps 
 he is the only one who ever robs the water of their 
 finny denizens. As to an Englishman getting justice 
 here, that is entirely out of the question ; and as a 
 guide to my readers of the best course to pursue, I 
 will relate what happened to me upon one occasion 
 whilst fishing in a water that was unlet, and over 
 which consequently every householder in the parish 
 had a right of fishing. 
 
 In every village in Rhenish Prussia there is an in- 
 dividual appointed by Government to regulate its civil 
 and criminal affairs, under the supervision of the chief 
 magistrate of the district. This august personage 
 is called a burgomaster. These burgomasters were 
 formerly (in the good old times) appointed or chosen 
 from amongst the oldest and most respected inhabitants 
 of the town or village; but by a new law they are now 
 appointed from a civil staff by the Government. In 
 nine cases out of ten they are petty tyrants, who dearly 
 love to show their consequence and authority, especially 
 if they think they can do so without being called over 
 the coals. 
 
 Now, it so happened that I was desirous of fishing 
 a tributary of the Kesseling brook, and in an un- 
 guarded moment I forgot to stick to my usual 
 method in such cases namely, that of putting 
 some silver groschen in my pocket but went to the
 
 IN THE RHENISH PROVINCES. 73 
 
 burgomaster of the district, stated my case, and begged 
 his influence to obtain for me permission to fish. 
 
 " Oh," said he, " here is my card ; this is quite 
 sufficient ; you can do anything you please, or go 
 where you like with it." 
 
 Accordingly I started (having some eight miles to go) 
 early in the morning, and having arrived at my desti- 
 nation I commenced operations. Of trout there were 
 plenty the length of my finger, which rose eagerly 
 at anything you liked to throw them ; but fish of any 
 size or condition there were none. I had got seven or 
 eight little wretches in my creel when two German 
 yokels accosted me, without the usual preface of " Guten 
 tag" (good day), by saying that if I threw my line 
 upon the water again they would take me into custody. 
 
 Now, it so happened that upon this particular day I 
 felt that I had a liver, and consequently I was any- 
 thing but amiably disposed ; so, in an equally rough 
 way, and, to their astonishment, in " platt Deutsch/' 
 or low German, I told them to go to the d 1, as I 
 had leave from the burgomaster, and should fish as 
 much as I pleased. They informed me that the burgo- 
 master had nothing to do with it, that the fishing 
 was not let, and that consequently .each individual in 
 the village had a right to fish and prevent strangers 
 from so doing. I told them I didn't care twopence 
 for them or their fishing, but that I should go on and 
 do as I pleased.
 
 74 TROUT-FISHING 
 
 They shortly went away, and I was beginning to 
 congratulate myself upon my having got rid of them, 
 when I saw another individual, in company with the 
 two former ones, approaching me. They came to 
 within twenty yards, and stood watching me. At this 
 moment I caught a wretched trout the length of my 
 thumb. No sooner did they see this than the new 
 arrival, without a " with your leave " or " by your 
 leave,'* made a rush at me and tried to take my rod 
 away. Not being particularly partial to such liberties, 
 I landed him quietly in the middle of the brook, upon 
 which the other two made a rush at me, for which I 
 was fortunately prepared. Having a spike at the butt of 
 my rod, I sent it into the first fellow's stomach, and 
 I let the other have a right-hander between the eyes,, 
 which astonished him immensely. 
 
 By this time my friend in the brook scrambled out r 
 holding his right arm in the air for my inspection, and 
 drawing my attention to a brass badge bearing the 
 arms of Prussia upon it, and at the same time telling 
 me he was a "patrol/' and that I had struck him and 
 must take the consequences. Now, knowing as I do 
 the very stringent rules about striking any Prussian 
 official, I thought it better to surrender my rod, at the 
 same time requesting that he would accompany me to 
 the burgomaster. 
 
 Accordingly, escorted by five individuals, not one of 
 them reaching higher than my shoulder, I started off
 
 IN THE RHENISH PROVINCES. 75 
 
 to the residence of this all-powerful official. Now it 
 so happened that this was placed at a good three 
 miles' distance from the place where I had met the 
 "patrol/^and it being a sweltering hot day, I determined 
 to give my friends a treat for spoiling my day's fishing. 
 Knowing perfectly well that they would never permit 
 me to get there first and tell my story, I accordingly 
 laid down to my work with a will, and being gifted 
 with good long legs, I soon distanced my followers. 
 From a walk they got into a jog-trot, and when we 
 arrived at our destination I never saw a more miserable- 
 looking lot of wretches. 
 
 Fortunately for me I speak German, and "platt 
 Deutsch/' or Low German also, otherwise the astound- 
 ing lies which the patrol told would, no doubt, have 
 found credence with the burgomaster. However, I 
 plainly told him the case, and that if I did not at 
 once get back my rod I should write immediately to 
 Berlin, and, after a good deal of haggling I got it 
 back; but had I been unused to Germans or unable 
 to speak the language, I should have lost my rod, and 
 in all probability been fined into the bargain. 
 
 The great secret is a five-groschen piece (6d.) Go 
 to the head man of the village, show him your rod, 
 and present him with the above-named sum, and 
 no one will interfere with you; but put not your 
 trust in burgomasters, and, above all, do not strike; 
 a Prussian official.
 
 76 TROUT-FISHING 
 
 I mentioned eight different beats on the Ahr, which 
 said beats comprise the main body of the river ; but if 
 the angler wants to get really good trout-fishing he 
 must ascend to its head waters, which he can do by 
 taking the post from Altenahr in the evening and going 
 to Adenau. Arrived at Adenau, he must rise at six in 
 the morning, and, having ordered a trap, drive to a 
 place called Nohn, about seven miles from Adenau. 
 Here he will find a small Gasthaus, or inn, where the 
 goodness of the fishing will make up for the roughness 
 of his fare and the hardness of his bed. This stream 
 is called the Ahrbach, and a truly delighful one it is, 
 holding heavy trout, no coarse fish, and extending for 
 some miles. It is one of those streams which form 
 the head waters of the Ahr, and of which I now pro- 
 pose to give a description. 
 
 The tributaries that form the head waters of the 
 Ahr are three in number viz., the Ahrbach, the 
 Blankenheim Brook, and the Reer. The Ahrbach rises 
 in the hills above Nohn, some two hours' drive from 
 Adenau, the principal town in this locality, and after 
 a run of some six or seven miles it meets the Blanken- 
 heim Brook at Ahrdorf; these two joined together 
 make the first waters of the river Ahr. A little way 
 lower down the Reer increases the volume by dis- 
 charging its waters into the Ahr at Niisch, and the 
 river Ahr then flows of an uniform size until it falls 
 into the Rhine. To reach any of these streams from
 
 IN THE EHENISH PROVINCES. 77 
 
 Altenahr, it is necessary the evening before you intend 
 fishing to take the post as far as Adenau, sleep at the 
 hotel of the Half Moon, and charter a trap from there 
 to Nohn for the Ahrbach, to Wirft for the Reer, and 
 to Ahrdorf for the Blankenheim Brook. I am now 
 mentioning the best places to commence fishing at in 
 each of these streams. You can then return to 
 Adenau for the night. Such a journey can be easily 
 done by a single person for 30s. English, including 
 carriage fare, remaining if you like in Adenau for two 
 days. 
 
 For undeniably good trout-fishing I do not think I 
 ever saw any stream I liked better than the Ahrbach, 
 It is not so much for the number or size of its trout 
 as for their beautiful appearance, excessive gameness, 
 and condition. Its waters are not wide, but in places 
 the sharp streams run into immensely deep holes, which 
 the natives are unable to net, and consequently 
 this stream is always full of trout. On a good day 
 you ought to kill twenty brace, and I will warrant the 
 average to be Ib. I was there a short time ago and 
 had only time to remain on its seductive banks fur two 
 hours. The flies I used was the furnace fly, the hare's 
 ear dun, and the Grannom, or greentail. I killed 17 
 trout, three of which weighed together 4 Ib., or 
 averaging a little over H Ib. each; they were the 
 gamest fish I have taken for some time, and reminded 
 me of the Loddon trout at Basingstoke more than any-
 
 78 TROUT-FISHING 
 
 thing. The total weight was 12^ lb., and I had nothing 
 under lb. 
 
 At Nohn ten groschen (one shilling) will readily get 
 you leave, and you will then require to ask permis- 
 sion at the first mill you come to, which will be readily 
 granted. The stream is in prime fishing order in 
 April and May, but the water becomes so small later 
 in the season that the trout shift down into the Ahr. 
 This may be said, too, of the Blankenheim Brook, 
 which rises in a cellar in Blankenheim, and holds, like 
 its twin sister the Ahrbach, good fish and strong. The 
 same I may also add of the Reer, though the Reer is 
 inferior, in my opinion, to the other two. Still trout 
 of 2 lb. to 3 lb. have been taken in it. The landlord 
 of the Half Moon at Adenau will smooth the way as 
 ,to permission to fish. 
 
 I must strongly recommend anyone stopping at 
 Altenahr to take this trip, as the fishing in April and 
 May is very good. I have taken in one day 25 lb. 
 weight of trout out of the Reer with the furnace fly. 
 There is no necessity to know the water, or for me to 
 explain, as every stream you come to is as good as 
 its fellow, and holds any number of fish. But you 
 must fish fine, and make up your mind to lose a few 
 flies, as the banks are in many places choked with 
 alder bushes. Wading, as I said before, is indis- 
 pensable ; indeed, I never could understand how a man 
 who really enjoyed fishing could get on without
 
 IN THE RHENISH PROVINCES. 79 
 
 wading. I do not say it is necessary to paddle all 
 over the stream, muddying its waters and disturbing 
 the fish no fisherman or sportsman would be guilty 
 of such a thing but wading is an immense advantage 
 if judiciously made use of. 
 
 There is one great disadvantage, however, in fishing 
 these three streams viz., the necessity of going to 
 and returning from Adenau every morning and evening, 
 as there is really no inn or hotel where an Englishman 
 would care to pass the night. This, however, is amply 
 repaid by the lovely scenery one passes through on 
 the way to the fishing. 
 
 The Lanterat, or chief magistrate at Adenau, is 
 excessively polite to strangers, and always willing to 
 further their wishes as far as lays in his power. In 
 addition to this, there are two places in the neighbour- 
 hood of Adenau which the sight-seer should visit. One 
 is the magnificent ruin of Nurburg, and the other is 
 the Hb'h Ach or the highest point in the Rhenish 
 provinces. It is 2,400 feet above the level of the sea, 
 and from its summit, which is easily reached by a 
 -carriage road, can be seen the seven hills on the Rhine, 
 Cologne, the Westphalian hills, and the vast panorama 
 of the Rhine as it winds its tortuous course to Coblenz. 
 When you return from Adenau you can fish the Adenau 
 Brook, commencing about two miles below Adenau. 
 It is but " a bit burnie," but in spring it holds some 
 good trout.
 
 80 TROUT-FISHING 
 
 Some persons dislike being encumbered with net and 
 basket whilst fishing ; should that be the case, there are 
 plenty of boys who will engage to go out daily from 
 Altenahr for five or six groschen per diem (from 6d. 
 to 7Jd.) They are excessively handy with a landing 
 net, and very careful not to show themselves or tread 
 upon or damage your tackle; they also take a great 
 interest in fishing, and get as excited over a good fish 
 as one does oneself. 
 
 Very erroneous reports get into circulation through 
 channels such as the one I am about to describe,, 
 respecting continental streams and the capabilities they 
 afford of giving the angler sport. 
 
 The reports I allude to are such as these. One 
 day, whilst fishing the Ahr, I met a countryman 
 industriously flogging the river to no purpose. I 
 offered my assistance, but was rudely repulsed, with 
 the assertion that he did not require instruction, and 
 was fully able to take care of himself. In the evening 
 he paid me a visit, having somewhat altered his miiid, 
 no doubt having heard from the natives of some of 
 my successes. I was, however, notwithstanding hi& 
 brusqueness in the morning, perfectly willing to assist 
 him, and told him if he liked to accompany me I 
 would take him to the best part of the river. He 
 complained further that he could not imagine that 
 there were any trout in the stream, or else he would 
 have been sure to take some. : -
 
 IN THE RHENISH PROVINCES. 81 
 
 He then asked me to show him my flies, which 
 I did, telling him that the fish were by no means 
 easy to take, and very capricious, not taking the same 
 fly each day or hour. Having pumped me and ob- 
 tained all the news he could get, together with half 
 a dozen flies, he left me, and a little later sent a 
 note saying he could not accompany me on the mor- 
 row. I was not sorry for this, but was somewhat 
 surprised on the following morning to see my friend 
 thrashing the river on the very part I had told him I 
 intended fishing. However, I went farther up, had a 
 good day's sport, and on my return in the evening, 
 I found him awaiting my arrival. 
 
 " Well/' he cried, " there was no excuse to-day, 
 water in splendid order, wind and weather first-rate, 
 but I could not stir or take a fish. Of course you 
 did nothing." 
 
 Now it happened, for the reputation of this stream, 
 that I had in my creel seventeen trout, one of them 2 Ib. 
 in weight, two of 1 Ib., and the others averaging Ib. 
 I was, however, so disgusted with this individual that 
 I parted company. Had I not chanced to be on the 
 spot, no doubt this person who knew as much about 
 trout-fishing as hat-making, probably more of the latter 
 would have told everyone that trout-fishing in the 
 Ahr was a myth. 
 
 The river Kyll is another beautiful stream of the 
 Rhine provinces which is well worth the angler's atten- 
 
 6
 
 82 TROUT-FISHING 
 
 tion, particularly its upper waters. In size it re- 
 sembles the Nette, but for some reason or another, 
 which lies most probably in the soil or strata it 
 flows through, its fish are neither so game nor so good 
 as those taken in either the Nette or Ahr. It is, 
 however, a lovely stream, flowing through a wild 
 and picturesque country. The largest fish I captured 
 weighed If Ib. ; the average may be put down at ^ Ib. 
 
 This stream is a late one, the fish being in order no 
 earlier than the 1st May. The flies on this river are 
 much the same as I before mentioned, with the ex- 
 ception that the red fly and alder are thicker on it 
 than on most continental streams. The last day I 
 fished it I used the blue dun and furnace in the 
 morning, with the soldier palmer and sandfly in the 
 afternoon. The sandfly I used was dressed buzz, with 
 the red covert feather of the landrail's wing, body from 
 the fur on the hare's poll, with a tinge of greenish 
 mohair through it, and ribbed with orange silk. 
 
 The Kyll rises in the Eif el above Stadtkyll, and, after 
 a course of some forty miles, falls into the Mosel some 
 miles above Coblenz, The best stations for fishing 
 this stream are Stadtkyll, Hillesheim, and Gerolstein. 
 There are also a few little brooks in the neighbour- 
 hood of Hillesheim that can give a good day's sport 
 when the water will allow it. 
 
 The minnow is a killing bait in the Kyll, which is 
 peculiarly adapted to this mode of fishing from its
 
 IN THE KHENISH PROVINCES. 83 
 
 continuous streamy nature, and many waterfalls and 
 cascades. 
 
 Below the places I have mentioned the water is 
 infested with coarse fish, and I am sorry to say a good 
 many pike out of the Mosel, so that to the flyfisher these 
 places are almost useless, though a " big one " is now 
 and then to be met with. At all the places I have 
 mentioned capital accommodation can be procured, 
 and they can be reached either from Coblenz, or 
 Adenau, via Remagen on the Rhine. 
 
 The Sieg is a river-stream traversing a very consider- 
 able portion of Westphalia. It rises in the hills near 
 Paddeboru and falls into the Rhine at Siegburg. Sal- 
 mon are to be met with in the lower portions of the 
 Sieg, though they are scarce and won't look at a fly ; 
 you have a chance with a minnow, but it is a poor one. 
 The best part of this river is about Siegen, as far as 
 Olpe on the west, and about fifteen miles above Siegen ; 
 the other portions swarm with chub and dace, but at 
 the places I have mentioned fair trout-fishing can be 
 got. In Olpe there are two good hotels; this place 
 can be reached by rail from Cologne ; the rail goes on 
 to Siegen, where too, there is ample accommodation. 
 There are several mill-dams in the neighbourhood of 
 Olpe which contain heavy trout, but you must use the 
 minnow, as the fly is useless. The Sieg has many 
 tributaries, which all contain trout in more or less 
 quantities. 
 
 6 *
 
 84 TROUT-FISHING 
 
 The river Nette is another beautiful stream form- 
 ing one of the many tributaries of the Rhine, and 
 is easy of access to the angler from Altenahr, Ander- 
 nach, or Goblenz; for you can leave Altenahr at 
 seven in the morning, and be fishing in the Nette at 
 11 A.M. Should the angler contemplate a stay upon its 
 banks, the town of Mayen furnishes a capital lodging, 
 with good and convenient hotels. The Nette is about 
 the same size as the Ahr ; it contains trout, grayling, 
 chub, dace, roach, gudgeon, minnows, and eels in 
 various quantities. Its upper waters viz. from Mayen 
 to Langenfeld are the best, as indeed, are all the 
 waters of these streams ; but fair fishing is to be had 
 below Mayen, especially below Trimbs. Its head 
 waters are formed by a number of small brooks, which 
 rise in the hills between Virnebourgh and Langenfeld, 
 and, uniting just above Gurrenberg, form the Nette 
 proper. 
 
 The great quantity of white fish to be found, 
 together with the usual poaching propensities of the 
 inhabitants, have reduced the trout to a very small 
 amount in comparison to former years; yet there 
 is still great inducement to visit its banks, and many 
 a good fish is still sporting in its limpid waters. Like 
 the Ahr it is subject to frequent floods, which as soon 
 clear off, and in a few hours the water is in prime 
 fishing order. The early mouths of spring, such as 
 April and May, are ever the best for the flyfisher, as
 
 IN THE RHENISH PROVINCES. 85 
 
 the water is then too cold to admit of the natives 
 fishing it by night with torches, or by day with pout- 
 nets. The grayling run larger here, but in fewer 
 numbers than in the Ahr, although the trout are not 
 of such fine quality. 
 
 Permission to fish is to be obtained in the usual 
 way by application to the principal man of the nearest 
 village and the dispensing of a few silver groschen. 
 But the angler is far less likely to meet with interrup- 
 tion, as this part of the country is not nearly so largely 
 populated, nor are there so many villages upon the 
 river's bank. 
 
 As a guide to my readers I will relate my last 
 excursion from Altenahr to the Nette, with its net 
 results, if I may be allowed the atrocious pun. 
 
 The month was the blooming one of May some- 
 what colder that year than one likes to see, but never- 
 theless propitious so far as sport is concerned. We 
 summoned our trusty follower to consult upon the 
 importance of a day on the Nette before the fish 
 should have been so disturbed as to make them sulky 
 and unlikely to rise freely at the fly. Our attendant 
 merits description, as he is one of those with whom 
 the Englishman who needs an attendant will be 
 brought into contact. I am aware that one like him 
 whose services I secured is not always to be got, 
 but there are many, though not quite so handy as he 
 was, just as enthusiastic and as easily taught.
 
 86 TROUT-FISHING 
 
 In good old England there is a certain class of 
 the labouring poor amongst whom one always looks 
 for the fishing celebrity of the village. This is gene- 
 rally either the blacksmith, the shoemaker, or the 
 miller. It is easy to understand that the miller's 
 continual residence or occupation on the river's bank 
 naturally induces him to take to angling ; but why the 
 other two should, in nine cases out of ten, be adepts in 
 the gentle art, is a question I must leave to wiser 
 heads to discover. Be that as it may, each country 
 has its peculiarity, and in Germany (or at least in the 
 Rhine provinces) butchers are the piscatorial cele- 
 brities. 
 
 Franz Grimegor, fleischer, or flesher, or butcher, 
 was the name of my ci-devant attendant. I recollect 
 thinking that " fleischer " was his surname at first, 
 and continually called him this until his risible facul- 
 ties could withstand my absurd mistake no longer ; on 
 its discovery, I think I laughed as much as he did. 
 Nevertheless, Franz was an excellent attendant, from 
 his habits of catching fish with worm, net, and hand. 
 He knew what he was about ; he was first-rate with 
 the landing-net ; and never tired from morning to night. 
 I paid him 6d. per diem, treated him to occasional 
 glasses of wine and cigars, and could not tire him. He 
 would carry as much fish as I could catch, and all my 
 traps and waterproofs from morning to night, only 
 murmuring when there was no sport. He could
 
 IN THE RHENISH PROVINCES. 87 
 
 already throw and tie a fly in no mean way for a no- 
 vice. He stood but 5ft. 5in., and was my factotum. 
 Now, reader, you have a somewhat hasty description 
 of a very usual sort of man to be met with in the wilds, 
 and if I add that he had an imperturbable temper, I 
 have said enough. 
 
 Well, Franz and I agreed that some flies must be at 
 once tied, and that the next morning must see us 
 across the mountains to Langenfeld. Accordingly I 
 set to work, and a dozen insects of various kinds soon 
 graced my little table. Next morning, in the comfort- 
 able carriage of the host of the Hotel Gaspari and 
 with his willing boy, at half-past 5 A.M. we left 
 Altenahr, and after a most lovely drive of about two 
 hours and a half arrived at the little village of 
 Langenfeld. The river at this point is very much 
 wooded on both sides, and, unless there has been 
 plenty of rain, is likely to present but little chance of 
 success, and, with the exception of a small trickling 
 rill, we found it on this occasion almost dry. Here 
 was a nice position ! However, fish I must and 
 would. So I despatched a boy to tell the man to go 
 home with the carriage, and that I would pursue the 
 course of the river until I found it fishable, and 
 return the next evening. Accordingly off I trudged, 
 Franz beguiling the way by telling me that the chapel 
 which I saw opposite was the chapel of St. Jost, 
 where a wonderful miracle had been performed,
 
 TROUT-FISHING 
 
 inasmuch as a young girl who had lost the use of one 
 of her legs from paralysis, or some such malady, had 
 been cured by visiting this sacred place. He also, 
 with many lamentations, told me how that he on a 
 former occasion, having suffered dreadfully from 
 rheumatism, had offered alms and oblations without 
 propitiating his saintship, or any good accruing to him 
 from his attentions and donations. 
 
 I saw a good many " hazel hiihner " in the woods, 
 and a hare or two ; and after a lovely walk of about 
 one hour and a half, I found myself at a spot where 
 two burns increased the water sufficiently to permit 
 of my fishing. 
 
 The yellow dun and blue dun were out thick, as 
 also the alder and black gnat, and with these four flies I 
 took eight brace of fish, weighing 7^1b., and two fish, 
 one of 2 Ib. and one 1^ Ib. The best part of the water 
 is decidedly about four miles from Mayen, and on 
 second thoughts I should recommend anyone wishing 
 to fish the Nette to go to this place ; for from this 
 you can go to the Laacher See, a very large sheet 
 of water containing pike, perch, bream, lake trout, 
 and eels. You are also close to the Rhine and at 
 easy distance from Coblentz. 
 
 The partridge hackle and a fly dressed as follows 
 are favourites on the Nette : Hook No. 9 or 10 ; 
 body, white floss silk ribbed with yellow; legs, a 
 honey dun hackle; wings, the molted feather from
 
 IN THE RHENISH PROVINCES. 89 
 
 a woodcock's wing ; tail, two strands of a grizzled 
 hackle. There are a great many of these flies on 
 the water in May, and I have taken a good many 
 fish with it. 
 
 Before quitting the Ahr and its tributaries let me 
 once more caution my readers against expecting 
 any trout-fishing below Altenahr. The trout-fishing 
 gradually improves the higher you go above it, and 
 on some spots he must indeed be a muff who can- 
 not kill five or six brace of trout. On the other 
 hand, grayling are more plentiful below Altenahr 
 than above, and capital sport they afford. 
 
 There is a fly which the trout are very fond of 
 on this river in the month of April, and which I 
 have never seen on our streams at home. I imitate 
 it in the following manner : Hook No. 6 Kendal 
 bend; tail, two fibres from the feather of a mal- 
 lard, inclined to a reddish brown ; body, long and 
 thin, dark maroon floss silk ribbed with yellow silk, 
 and a small tip of red floss silk at the tail; legs 
 a honey dun hackle ; wings, two gray hackles, 
 inclined to brown, dressed upright. Fish it on 
 windy days, when it is blowing a hurricane. It 
 only lasts for a month, and I do not know its 
 name.
 
 90 
 
 A DAY AMONGST THE 
 
 ,HEBE is a certain satisfaction in the reflection 
 that although we are treading the path of life's 
 declining years, nothing can rob us of the glory 
 of bygone achievements by flood or field. How plea- 
 sant to dream over the old battles, made dear to our 
 memories by their associations, and marked in the 
 diary of our mind as red-letter days. Although some 
 few years have gone by, that which I am about to 
 relate seems as green in my memory as if it had 
 happened yesterday, and although my companion and I 
 are not quite so young and active as we used to be, still 
 my pulse beats a throb quicker as I remember the 
 incidents I am about to relate. It was a week before 
 Christmas ; the weather for once had been seasonable, 
 cold, clear, and frosty, with a sprinkle of snow
 
 A DAY AMONGST THE PIKE. 91 
 
 weather that cuts the weed down and enables the 
 lover of pike-fishing to get at the sacred haunts of 
 
 the fish. " If I could only get leave for a day at ," 
 
 I mentally pondered, " what sport I should have. I '11 
 write and ask." I did so, and one fine morning I got 
 the reply my request was granted. That answer 
 came at breakfast. I couldn't eat any, I was in a 
 perfect fever of excitement, and the first thing that 
 occurred to me was, Who can I ask to go with me? 
 for I am a gregarious animal, and to enjoy anything 
 alone is to me an impossibility. I did not think very 
 long, and before ten minutes were over, I had despatched 
 a note to my old friend and companion on many a 
 river's side, whose name is familar as a household 
 word in every angler's mouth, and I added a P.S. : 
 " You must bring the bait, and, mind, some large dace, 
 for we shall have to battle with big ones/' 
 
 The day I fixed upon was Christmas Eve, and the 
 overhauling of my tackle was a matter which occupied 
 every spare moment in the interim. The water we 
 were going to fish is now, I believe, destitute of such 
 a thing as a pike, and has, since the death of the late 
 noble owner, been turned entirely into a trout river, 
 with what success I know not. At the time I am 
 speaking of, report said that it contained fish of 
 enormous size, but, somehow, no one seemed to be able 
 to catch them. All the more exciting, and my dreams 
 were filled with visions of broken top joints, a catch
 
 92 A DAT AMONGST THE PIKE, 
 
 in the reel, ugly roots of trees, bad hooks, and the 
 hoc genus omne of miseries that make up the fisher- 
 man's nightmare. 
 
 At length the day arrived, and the 7 A.M. train 
 found me at Waterloo to pick up my friend at Clapham 
 Junction. It was dark and very frosty ; a frost, just 
 enough to cut the weed down, and perhaps I shuddered 
 at the thought put a thin cake of ice on the water. 
 Well, no matter, I must go, and trust to that provi- 
 dence which always stands true to the enthusiast; and, 
 as the train glided out of the station, my thoughts 
 were somewhat on this wise : 
 
 "Wonder if he's got some good dace? Who's 
 going to carry the bait-cans down to the water ? Will 
 there be a boat, or can we command the water from the 
 bank ? Shall we have to walk from the station, or can 
 we get a fly ? What sort of a chap will the keeper be?" 
 
 And by this time the train was coming into Clap- 
 ham Junction, my head was out of the window a long 
 time before the train came to a standstill, and I had 
 spotted those bait-cans long before I saw anything 
 else; and there, too, was the jolly, cheery, good- 
 humoured face, with a bundle of rods in one hand, 
 and a basket in the other. I shouted, he shouted, we 
 both shouted ; for, sport or no sport, we were going 
 fishing together. Did we have a dram and light a pipe ? 
 Did we "hit the ceiling"? as they say in America. 
 Might as well ask one as the other. And then those
 
 A DAY AMONGST THE PIKE. 93 
 
 bait-cans were an awful nuisance ; the water slopped, 
 and slopped, until the bottom of the carriage was a 
 perfect deluge, and the fish half dead. At last we 
 arrived at the small station where we were to alight. 
 It was not an inviting station, but yes, there was a fly. 
 I hailed that man in no very measured tones, my friend 
 hailed him too, and, as I saw another head looking out 
 of another window, I stuck a half-crown in my eye. 
 He saw it, and we caught that fly. 
 
 " How far is it to ? " was, of course, the first 
 
 question. "About a mile and a half, Sir"; and the 
 traps were bundled in, taking care to change the 
 water in the bait-cans at a pond before getting under 
 way. The wind had risen a little, and as it rustled 
 amongst the tops of the firs close by, it set the sign- 
 board creaking of the little inn, reminding us that there 
 was a haven of refreshment. We looked at one another, 
 and, with that unanimous sentiment which inspires 
 all good fishermen, we refused to take a shingle off 
 
 the roof of that inn, so we went into the Arms. 
 
 Dear old place ! the kitchen was the bar, and a roaring 
 fire of fir logs burning in the capacious fire-place. The 
 landlord had gone to his work ; it was but a small old- 
 fashioned country inn, where as yet the fable of the 
 " Three Acres and a Cow " had not been whispered 
 and the landlady suggested something hot, the while 
 dangling on her finger what looked to me like a tin 
 funnel of peculiar shape. That funnel was put into
 
 A DAY AMONGST THE PIKE. 
 
 the embers, and in a short time, I had a glass of the 
 most perfect elixir, frothy, creaming, and yellow, that I 
 had ever tasted then we started. 
 
 Now, between my friend and myself there was no 
 jealousy. To catch fish was what we wanted, and 
 whether he did it or I was a matter of small considera- 
 tion ; so there was no racing to put rods together, to 
 get first to the water, or anything of that sort. But 
 it was, " Are you all right, old man ? Can I help 
 you ? I think I Ve got a better trace than that, will 
 you have it ? " &c. Now, be it remembered, neither 
 he nor I had ever seen this glorious bit of water ; next, 
 there was no keeper to meet us, and so we had to trust 
 to our own experience. We started in the open water 
 opposite the house, and commenced spinning with a 
 small dace on a flight of nine hooks and a flying 
 triangle from the mouth. We were cold, and the 
 exercise warmed us; it also made our backs ache, 
 especially as, after fishing for about three-quarters of 
 an hour, a miserable little fish of two pounds was all 
 that rewarded our efforts. 
 
 We sat down, lit a pipe, and looked at one another. 
 There was a something about that look which is 
 entirely indescribable. There was a word that flut- 
 tered to our lips that I shall refrain from writing, but 
 you know what it was. We wayed down the bank 
 of the river until we came to an island. Beyond this 
 island and to the right of it there was a sort of lake or
 
 A DAT AMONGST THE PIKE. 95 
 
 back-water formed by a sluice-gate and dam from the 
 river proper. Upon this piece of water, about three 
 to four acres in extent, rode a miniature yacht, a 
 cutter, naturally laid up for the winter, the ballast out 
 of her, and consequently very light ; at her best she 
 could not have held more than two people. My friend 
 was tired, I think a little disgusted, because his 
 answers to me were somewhat abbreviated, and so I 
 let him make for that little yacht without venturing a 
 remark, whilst I sat down to watch him from the 
 opposite bank. I saw him take off his trace and put 
 live-bait tackle on ; I saw him climb into that little 
 yacht, and with great difficulty seat himself, because 
 she was very light, and I had fiendish hopes that she 
 would capsize. But she did not. I watched him as 
 he swung that great red float out, and then I took a 
 turn on my side, spinning. I was not very happy, 
 because I thought the whole thing a fizzle, and so I 
 commenced admiring how beautifully my bait span ; 
 no wobble ; how sweetly the line went out through 
 those large rings ; and, though it was blowing, never 
 a kink; until just as I was indolently taking in the 
 last few feet, a flash of silver shot across the water, and 
 I was into a good fish at the same moment my friend 
 landed a good 6-lb. fish from his crazy craft, and from 
 then the sport was fast and furious. 
 
 At 3 o'clock we had forty-one fish averaging 5 Ibs. 
 on the bank, and were both fairly tired out he
 
 96 A DAY AMONGST THE PIKE. 
 
 live-baiting, I spinning. Some of the fish weighed 
 10 Ibs., short, thick, well-fed fish ; such an array I 
 have never seen, nor, indeed, had anyone there. Please 
 to remember, reader, that these fish were caught 
 live-baiting with snap-tackle and spinning ; for I hold 
 in the utmost contempt the man who fishes with a 
 gorge-bait. To him large or small fish are equal 
 sport, if you can use such an expression for that 
 which, to my mind, is nothing more nor less than 
 poaching. But with snap-tackle or a spinning flight 
 a small fish can be returned to the water, but with a 
 gorge it is impossible to do anything else than destroy 
 the fish after it has pouched the bait. 
 
 We were fairly exhausted, and the short day was 
 drawing to a close, when I proposed that we should 
 put on two large dace on snap-tackle and live-bait the 
 neck of water just above the sluice, he from the island 
 above described, and I from the opposite bank. I 
 said, " Perhaps we shall catch one of the big ones/' 
 No sooner said than done. The spot I chose was an 
 opening made under some willows ; and I am free to 
 confess I did not pay much attention to the surround- 
 ings, or I should have hesitated. My friend flung 
 haphazard out immediately opposite me. The dace I 
 had on must have been close upon 1 lb., and the large 
 red float could scarcely control him, so lively was he, 
 All of a sudden the red float stood still and hung up, 
 I thought, and I was just going to move him when
 
 A DAY AMONGST THE PIKE. 97 
 
 I saw a white streak dash through the water and the 
 red float disappear. Instinctively I struck. Horror ! 
 the top of my rod went into the willows above me ; I 
 had forgotten about those willows, and I muttered 
 something as the winch whizzed out. At that moment 
 I heard an exclamation from my friend. I looked up 
 and saw him fighting a fish with his rod bent nearly 
 double. I had no time to do more than look, as my 
 fish occupied all my attention, and the willows did 
 not help me. I said to my friend, " Land your fish 
 and come and help me." He answered: "I can't; 
 I 've got all I can do." And there we were, hammer 
 and tongs opposite one another for a good ten minutes. 
 The result was he had to land his own fish and I 
 landed mine. His weighed 19 Ibs., and mine 22^ 
 Ibs. He had the female fish and I the male; and 
 I feel sure my readers will take some interest in the 
 above reminiscence of a magnificent day's sport when 
 I tell them that my companion was the late Mr. 
 Francis Francis.
 
 98 
 
 ANGLING. 
 
 NEED hardly say that the art of angling is 
 one whose praises have been oftentimes tunefully 
 sung and written upon since the days of Izaak 
 Walton, the great High Priest of Anglers. I therefore 
 approach this subject with the painful conviction that 
 I have, perhaps, nothing new to tell beyond what 
 has been already so much better and more ably 
 commented upon by others. And yet it has occurred 
 to me that there is, perhaps, one phase connected 
 with angling which has not been thought out in its 
 entirety. I mean the relations which are established 
 between man and man amongst various nations, civi- 
 lized and savage, by the cultivation of the gentle art. 
 It has been my pleasure and privilege to have fished 
 in many countries of the Old and New world : in 
 the Old world, the British Isles, France, Germany,
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF ANGLING.. 99 
 
 Russian Poland, Norway, Belgium, Austria, Italy, 
 Switzerland, Iceland, and the sluggish rivers of cen- 
 tral India ; in the New world, the glorious Canadian 
 lakes and rivers, the lakes and rivers of New England, 
 and the Northern States of America, whilst I have 
 wet my line as far south as the lagoons and rivers of 
 Florida. Anywhere and everywhere I have been 
 struck by the influence which angling, as an occupa- 
 tion or an amusement, has upon the character of 
 those engaged in its pursuit. 
 
 I take it that the individual who voted angling a 
 cruel, stupid pastime, had not reasoned out the 
 philosophy of the subject he thoughtlessly censured. 
 I may be wrong, but to be an angler there are many 
 fishermen, but comparatively few anglers a man 
 must be of a nature thoroughly unselfish, an ardent 
 admirer and student of God's handiwork, be it tree, 
 flower, or insect, of an open-hearted and generous 
 disposition, a keen observer, especially as regards 
 atmospheric influences, and he must also be endowed 
 with sufficient physical power, so that the pursuit of 
 angling may not become a burden instead of a 
 pleasant and instructive occupation. Now if a man 
 possessing all these attributes can be called stupid or 
 cruel; then I say that all of us who love the gentle 
 art have wasted much time and must be ranked 
 amongst the cruel and stupid. But this cannot be 
 so. For if we refer back to the history of great 
 
 7 *
 
 100 THE PHILOSOPHY OF ANGLING. 
 
 men, it will be found that many of them were more 
 or less anglers, and that the great criminals who 
 have worthily suffered for their misdeeds have never 
 known the gentle influence of the placidly flowing 
 river or the brawling brook have never looked 
 
 Through Nature up to Nature's God. 
 
 Perhaps a brighter and better specimen of an 
 angler, who eminently possessed the qualities I have 
 named above, in addition to his wondrous art, could 
 not be found than my very dear friend and oft com- 
 panion by the river-side, the late Mr. H. D. Rolfe 
 God rest his memory ! I daresay that many who 
 read these lines knew him. Many is the pleasant 
 expedition I have had with him. His was a truly 
 unselfish and beautiful nature ; he was never known 
 to get up at day-break so as to be first on the 
 river's bank, or to hasten in front of a brother 
 angler so as to get the best of the water; his fly-book 
 or tackle-box was open to all, his flask and tobacco- 
 pouch at anyone's service ; whilst his purse has often 
 supplied, with generous charity, the wants of the 
 needy or distressed. Could anyone call such a 
 nature cruel and stupid? 
 
 But I digress. I take it, then, that those who 
 enunciate such principles can never have studied the 
 subject of angling from a philosophical point of view, 
 and therefore we may dismiss them as narrow-minded
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF ANGLING. 101 
 
 miserable fellow-creatures who have missed a portion 
 of their lives. Angling, as a pastime or an occupa- 
 tion, has its different effects on different natures. In 
 England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales it has caused 
 and does cause a bond of unity which no Bill in Parlia- 
 ment will ever disunite. The sturdy Englishman, 
 the calculating though generous Scotchman, the 
 warm-hearted wrong-headed Irishman, the impetuous 
 Welshman, all shake hands with one another by the 
 water's side. They all agree on the one subject 
 which forms a bond of pleasant unity about which 
 there is but one opinion, one voice, " love of the 
 gentle art," and to be in charity with all men. 
 
 In France our neighbours are not so happy as 
 we are, and the pursuit has a different effect upon 
 their excitable natures. The Seine is to Parisians 
 what the Thames is to Londoners only mark the 
 difference : 
 
 " In the report of the Seine Conservancy for the 
 year 1884, under the heading ' Animals found in the 
 Seine,' during the summer of that year, I find 3,929 
 -dogs, 349 cats, 1,916 rats, 191 fowls, 130 rabbits, 23 
 pieces of meat, 8 geese, 3 turkeys, 2 wild boars, 
 2 sheep, 1 goat, 1 pig, one calf, one monkey, and 
 eight fishes." Of course the question arises whether 
 the fishes were drowned by accident, or whether they 
 died from natural causes. Personally, I am inclined 
 to think that they were bought alive by some prac-
 
 102 THE PHILOSOPHY OF ANGLING. 
 
 tical angling wag at the fish-market, who threw 
 them in on purpose to beguile a friend, a disciple of 
 the rod, into the belief that the Seine was pisca- 
 torially occupied, and that these fishes died from 
 miasma, or perhaps old age. For during many years 
 that I have watched the quays in Paris, I have never 
 seen one live fish, however small, caught. And yet 
 these quays, on the 15th, were crowded early in the 
 morning, to celebrate the opening of the angling 
 season. There was joy depicted on every face of 
 these worthies of the rod old and young and their 
 joy is incomprehensible, seeing that it is doomed to 
 disappointment. I always used to meet the same faces 
 whenever I visited those quays ; with some of them 
 I became familiar nay, friendly. One among 
 them I assisted in deciphering Izaak Walton, and his 
 gratitude is lasting, at least in interest. He has. 
 promised to invite me to a fish dinner of his own 
 catching. The promise was given three years ago,, 
 but my legs have not found their way under his 
 mahogany yet ; but I am certain that the smallest 
 gudgeon safely landed will be followed by a tele- 
 gram that the feast is spread. He himself is im- 
 patient for a convivial meeting at his house, but he 
 has made a vow that I shall not cross his threshold 
 except to rejoice in the long-expected triumph. My 
 prospective host is a man of birth and breeding ; he 
 has a very extensive knowledge of the literature of
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF ANGLING. 103 
 
 liis own country, he converses fluently and instruc- 
 tively on most subjects, but I have never dared to 
 ask him outright if he has ever caught a fish. I 
 know he would not tell me a falsehood the truth 
 might be too painful to reveal. 
 
 Are there many of these unsuccessful anglers in 
 Paris ? At a rough guess I should say close upon a 
 thousand. Statistics reveal the presence of 12,000 
 anglers with the rod in France ; but, judging from 
 the aspect of the river's side for ten months in the 
 year, and that no licence is required, this must be 
 underrated, and out of the one thousand I should say 
 at least four hundred have never felt the joy of land- 
 ing ever so small a fish upon the bank. " Never 
 mind the result, the excitement and emotions of the 
 chase alone suffice/' says my friend. This philosophy 
 must be a true one, or else the angling records of 
 France would not be so crowded with illustrious 
 names. 
 
 The Curator of the Bibliotheque Nationale once told 
 me that 50 per cent of his most valuable personnel 
 were anglers with the rod. M. Messonier is an 
 enthusiastic votary. M. Ambroise Thomas, the com- 
 poser of the opera of Miynon, is supposed to find 
 his most tuneful airs whilst watching his float. 
 Rossini acknowledged to having found one of his 
 magnificent trios whilst angling on the estate of Mr. 
 Aguado. Alphonse Karr, Emile Augier, Jules San-
 
 104 THE PHILOSOPHY OF ANGLING. 
 * fc- 
 
 deau swell the list of French anglers. But the most 
 striking feature of the philosophy of the Parisian 
 angler is the persistency with which he will select a 
 spot and stick to it in spite of failure. Should he 
 by chance vacate it, there are a dozen successors 
 ready to take his place. His inopportune return 
 gives rise to comic scenes ; for the inveterate French 
 angler, though peaceful enough whilst plying his 
 craft, is pugnacious. 
 
 A few years ago a friend of mine, an eminent 
 Parisian journalist, had the misfortune to institute a 
 comparison between the fly-fisher and the bottom fisher. 
 He opined that the former was more active, more 
 intelligent, more skilful, and consequently more prone 
 to resent a slight. A gentleman of the latter per- 
 suasion felt offended at this insinuation, and chal- 
 lenged him to single combat. They did not fight. 
 
 Again, while the Hotel de la Monnaie was burn- 
 ing during the Commune, several anglers who had 
 helped to set it on fire returned to their peg by the 
 river-side, telling their companions to call them if 
 they were wanted. They expressed no joy at the 
 destruction they had wrought, but they eagerly en- 
 quired if anyone had caught a fish during their 
 absence. 
 
 As a rule the French angler, when engaged in his 
 favourite pursuit, is profoundly indifferent to sur- 
 rounding events. During the first day of the July
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF ANGLING. 105 
 
 revolution, Compigny, the well-known friend of 
 Mdlle. Mars, and the head of a department at the 
 Ministry of Public Education, remained peacefully 
 seated beneath the Bridge of Arts plying his rod, 
 while on both sides of the bridge the terrific struggle 
 was going on, and over his head the artillery was 
 thundering. M. Salvady, Minister of Public In- 
 struction during the reign of Louis Philippe, rein- 
 stated a provincial professor whom he had dismissed 
 because the latter had by the merest accident settled 
 himself in his favourite spot under the bridge de la 
 Concorde. " I should have yielded my position in 
 the Ministry to my most persistent political adver- 
 sary," he said, "in order to get rid of him." What 
 becomes of these ardent votaries during the close 
 time ?" Some fish, in spite of the law, but they do 
 not use rods. They attach a line to their ankle and 
 dangle it for hours beneath the surface of the stream. 
 Among these is Barre, a societaire of the Comedie 
 Fran9aise, a very eminent actor. Others go to Sceaux, 
 where they fish upon a piece of private water for 
 50 centimes and a fee for their tackle. The water 
 abounds in carp, but the administration makes the 
 angler pay for every fish he catches. It provides a 
 new emotion. The angler's pride prompts him to 
 wish for good sport. His spirit of economy 
 makes him furious at a bite. The other day I met 
 five French anglers who had not heard of the Ex-
 
 106 THE PHILOSOPHY OF ANGLING. 
 
 pulsion Bill, and when told of it they expressed their 
 sympathy with one member of the Orleans family 
 only, and that was because he was a good fisher- 
 man. 
 
 Now it is very evident that no British angler 
 was, or ever could be, influenced in such a manner 
 as our neighbours across the Channel, although the 
 bond of unity is strengthened, though in a different 
 manner, by the pursuit of the gentle art. 
 
 In Canada and North America the Indian or half- 
 breed looks with sorrow upon the often wanton takes 
 of the white man, who, with that inherent thirst for 
 sport so characteristic of the Anglo-Saxon, revels 
 in heavy baskets of salmon, trout, bass, &c. Is 
 it because the one is a sportsman, and the other 
 
 
 
 not ? By no means the red man is the keenest 
 of sportsmen, it is almost his religion, but his 
 simple philosophy revolts from the inordinate destruc- 
 tion of those things which the Great Being has made, 
 he believes, for the subsistence of his red children; 
 whilst the Anglo-Saxon is only intent upon the 
 number and weight of his bag. The least vicious of 
 all the tribes, now swept away by the march of civiliza- 
 tion, were the Marragansetts, who inhabited the sea 
 coast of New England, and lived entirely upon fish. 
 Their simple avocation made them gentle, thoughtful, 
 and kind to each other. In some parts of India, fish 
 are looked upon as sacred. There is a portion of the
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF ANGLING. 107 
 
 river at Serrinuggur, opposite the Rajah of Cashmere's 
 Palace, where the largest and heaviest trout are to be 
 found, upon which no one is allowed to fish, because 
 the spirits of that monarch's ancestors are supposed,, 
 after death, to have gone into these large trout. 
 Here, in India, from the native who sits astride of 
 his chatty, spearing fish as he floats down the Ganges, 
 to the native Shikari of the Himalayas, who angles 
 for lordly maseer, or the prawn and pomflet fisher- 
 man of Bombay, a strong feeling of unity and 
 fellow-feeling exists, which is not discernible in others 
 who, for pastime or a living, engage in other pursuits. 
 In one word, then, it would seem that the love of 
 angling, although developing different traits in different 
 natures, according to temperament, has, in all classes of 
 mankind and in all nations, a softening, refining, and 
 romantic influence which no other pursuit of a like 
 nature can boast of. It is this feeling which, in this 
 country being developed, enlarged and fostered, has 
 caused the formation of angling societies and clubs, 
 whose excellence as institutions, and whose enthusi- 
 astic patronage, prove (^Englishmen "> to be the first 
 angling community of the world.
 
 108 
 
 THE FAMOUS 
 WATERLOO HUN F 1866, 
 
 ^[p N the good old days of yore, when our forefathers 
 Jk used to make the woodlands of merry England 
 resound with full music from the throats of 
 twenty-five couples of hounds in those days of which 
 ancient memoir has handed us down the tradition 
 we learn that foxes were stouter, that men rode 
 harder, and that fences were more impracticable than 
 in the present day. They gloried not in the quick, 
 short, and decisive burst of five- and- twenty minutes, 
 but in the long, dragging, hunting run of three and 
 four hours, where the short-docked, thickset horses 
 were well adapted to keep pace with the throaty, 
 persevering foxhound of that period. Old and grey- 
 headed sportsmen delight to turn round to the youth 
 of the present day with " Ah ! when I was a boy/' 
 &c. Old soldiers are too often apt to exclaim, " The
 
 THE FAMOUS WATERLOO RUN OF 1866. 109 
 
 service is going to the dogs, for when I was a 
 subaltern," &c. Old fishermen, too, with a retro- 
 spective sigh, talk of those " wonderful takes in the 
 days of yore." According to the account of these 
 patriarchs, fox-hunting, shooting, fishing, et hoc genus 
 omne, seem to have been far superior to any the 
 present epoch can afford. Now, I should as soon 
 think of arguing with these worthies as of contra- 
 dicting a lady ; but, nevertheless, facts, as Paley says, 
 " are stern realities," and the meet of the Pytchley 
 hounds on February 2nd, 1866, showed that at least 
 one of the old breed of those stout-going foxes was 
 still alive, and that the famous Billesdon Coplow run 
 of former years had at length found its equal. 
 
 In endeavouring to describe the incidents of this 
 never-to-be-forgotten run, I must crave indulgence 
 wherever I am unable to do full justice to its merits, 
 and tender an apology to those whose names I may 
 fail to particularise, it being utterly impossible that 
 I could be everywhere at the same time. 
 
 Friday, the 2nd February, saw Captain Thompson 
 with his pack of hounds at Arthingworth, situated 
 three miles from Market Harborough, to the left of 
 the Northampton road. This fixture had already 
 given birth that season to a run which I had de- 
 scribed in the columns of The Field; and I am free 
 to assert that the country about Arthingworth, 
 Clipston, Farndon, and Oxendon is unrivalled by any
 
 HO THE FAMOUS WATERLOO BUN OF 1866. 
 
 that the Pytchley then possessed. The morning 
 broke dull and gloomy, ushered in with a steady 
 downfall of drizzling rain. There was, however, a 
 certain luminous appearance about the horizon which 
 indicated the probability of its clearing. It being 
 the night of the annual Market Harborough ball, the 
 town was crowded to excess, as also were the various 
 country seats in the neighbourhood. The consequence 
 was that the road to Arthingworth, between half-past 
 ten and eleven, was enlivened by many equestrians 
 and ladies in carriages, all bound to the meet of the 
 Pytchley hounds. In the park, in front of Arthing- 
 worth House, were grouped horsemen to the amount 
 of at least two hundred, whilst conspicuous in their 
 centre, some standing, some lying down, were Captain 
 Thompson's own particular pack. These hounds were 
 brought by Captain Thompson with him from Fife- 
 shire into the Pytchley country, and were hunted by 
 him on two days in the week, Dick Roake, the hunts- 
 man, officiating with the old Pytchley hounds on 
 the other days. 
 
 At twenty minutes past eleven we left Arthing- 
 worth for the purpose of drawing Loatland Wood. 
 The day had cleared up, there was a nice soft wind 
 with a dappled grey sky in fact, all the acces- 
 sories that make up a really hunting morning. No 
 sooner were the merry pack in covert than a fox was 
 quickly on foot, and, breaking away on the Arthing-
 
 THE FAMOUS WATERLOO RUN OF 1866. Ill 
 
 worth side, went straight for Sunderland Wood, 
 Mr. Fellowes, Captain Robertson, and Mr. Talbot 
 getting a good start. On his reaching Sunderland 
 Wood, where Mr. Fellowes arrived as soon as the 
 hounds, he was unfortunately headed, and, turning 
 back, retraced his steps to Loatland, the hounds 
 running a rare pace the whole way. Those who were 
 left behind in the first start now met the hounds 
 coming back, and so nicked in. Ten minutes took 
 them from Loatland Wood to Sunderland Wood, and 
 nine minutes took them back again. Here Captain 
 Thompson stuck to him in covert for full a quarter 
 of an hour, when he was forced out on the Arthing- 
 worth side, and eventually ran to ground in a copse, 
 where some main earths had been carelessly left un- 
 stopped an unfortunate circumstance, as the hounds 
 richly deserved their fox. 
 
 Whilst conversing with Mr. Fellowes at the 
 covertside, he expressed it as his opinion that, from 
 what he had seen, we were very likely to have a 
 most extraordinary day's sport ; and little did he 
 think, no doubt, that his prophecy would come so 
 true. After this we drew Langborough Wood blank, 
 and from there trotted on to Waterloo Gorse. 
 
 And now, my readers, let me endeavour to de- 
 scribe, as far as my poor pen will permit me, one 
 of the finest runs that has been seen in the shires 
 for many years, and has never been beaten up to
 
 112 THE FAMOUS WATERLOO BUN OF 1866. 
 
 the present day. The hounds had been but a short 
 time in covert when a fine fox was viewed away, 
 pointing for Langborough. A short delay took 
 place before they got fairly settled to him, which 
 gave everyone the opportunity of a good start. 
 When they did, however, go, it was in earnest; 
 with heads up and sterns down, they skimmed away 
 over the grass pastures straight into Langborough; 
 without a pause they press him on through Lang- 
 borough towards Kelmarsh. 
 
 And now let 's see who 's to the fore. On the 
 left are Mr. Fellowes, Major Whyte Melville, Mr. 
 Clarke, Mr. Gosling, and Dick, with Mr. Topham ; 
 while in the immediate wake of the hounds ride 
 Capt. Thompson, Major Fraser, Mr. J. Chaplin, Capt. 
 Hoey, Mr. Mills, and some twenty others. Dis- 
 daining Kelmarsh Covert, he passed in front of 
 Kelmarsh House, as if he was going for Tally-ho 
 Gorse, but, altering his mind, he turned sharp to 
 the right. Leaving Clipston village on our left, we 
 literally raced over those large pastures in the 
 neighbourhood of Oxendon and Farndon down to 
 Lubenham Gorse, the finest line in Northampton- 
 shire. 
 
 The position of the field had now somewhat al- 
 tered. In the front rank is one who has often been 
 in the same place on Ascot Heath and Epsom Downs 
 Custance, the well-known jockey ; with him is Mr.
 
 THE FAMOUS WATERLOO RUN OF 1866. 113 
 
 J. Chaplin, Capt. White, Capt. Hoey, Major Eraser, 
 Mr. Gosling, Mr. F. Langham, the Master, and some 
 ten others. Of course we thought that the Gorse was 
 his point, but, to our astonishment, leaving it to his left, 
 he crossed the railway and inclined slightly towards 
 Langton ; and here your humble servant, with many 
 others, was brought to a standstill, and I am indebted, 
 after using up two horses, for the description of the 
 remaining portion to the Master, who was fortunate 
 enough to be able to get to the end. 
 
 After crossing the railway the fox made straight to 
 Great Bowden, crossing the brook, which Custance 
 alone jumped, and into which six unfortunates went; 
 the hounds still running the same pace, and many of 
 the horses in unmistakable trouble, some dying from 
 a gallop to a canter, some ignominiously kicked from 
 a walk into a trot ; nevertheless there are some fifteen 
 men still going to hounds. After crossing the Bowden 
 brook his head is pointed for the finest line in high 
 Leicestershire ; leaving Church Langton to his right, 
 on to Gloostone Wood, from which place, leaving 
 Cranhoe to his right he goes at a rattling pace into 
 Keythorpe ; and now the select few begin to hope his 
 tale is told, urging on their panting horses to see 
 the latt of him. 
 
 Curiously enough, the day previous Mr. Tailby 
 had run a fox to ground in Keythorpe Wood, where 
 he had dug him out. Straight for this head of earths 
 
 8
 
 114 THE FAMOUS WATERLOO RUN OF 1866. 
 
 did our gallant fox make, but on his arrival, find- 
 ing that the digging of the day before had upset 
 the arrangements of his abode, he was forced, the 
 merry pack being close to him, to press on to save 
 his brush. 
 
 And now many more turned back; Captain Hoey and 
 Mr. Craven cried a go ; Mr. Murietta, Mr. Morrice, and 
 many others had had enough; indeed, the line the 
 hounds had come was dotted here and there with men 
 who were vainly coaxing their wearied horses in a home- 
 ward direction. Captain Thompson had already ridden 
 three horses, and was without the aid of either of his 
 whips or Dick. Never for a moment, however, did the 
 hounds pause. Leaving Keythorpe Spinneys, they ran 
 to Hallaton Thorns, from Hallaton Thorns to Fallow 
 Close ; and in the water meadows, Captain Thompson, 
 Captain White, Mr. Mills, Mr. Chaplin, and Major 
 Fraser were alone with them. From Fallow Close 
 they went to Slawston, and eventually the hounds 
 were whipped off, darkness coming on whilst they 
 were running in the direction of Medbourn Station. 
 Major Fraser, Captain White, Mr. J. Chaplin, and 
 Captain Clarke, with the Master, were, I believe, 
 the only ones who saw the end of this extraordinary 
 run. 
 
 The time from find to finish was three hours and 
 forty-five minutes, the distance traversed (not in- 
 cluding the back running) from point to point was
 
 THE FAMOUS WATERLOO RUN OF 1866. 115 
 
 eighteen miles, and including the various turns, close 
 upon six and twenty. 
 
 A few more episodes remain to be told. Captain 
 Thompson, unaided by anyone, took his hounds 
 home to Brixworth, leaving only two couples behind. 
 Many of the horses were left at various farmhouses, 
 being utterly incapacitated from moving any farther. 
 Doubts seem to be entertained as to our having 
 changed foxes, but one thing is certain, that as far as 
 Great Bowden the same fox was in front of the hounds 
 that left "Waterloo Gorse. 
 
 Mr. Coventry, who was driving into Harborough, 
 met the hounds, and putting up his trap at a farm- 
 house, borrowed a horse from Mr. Angell, at Luben- 
 ham, and went with them for a considerable time. 
 There can be but little doubt that the fastest portion 
 of the run was from Kelmarsh to Lubenham, which 
 distance was done in 18 minutes. 
 
 All things, however, must have an end, and no 
 doubt, had Capt. Thompson been accorded a little more 
 daylight, this gallant fox would have paid the penalty. 
 Richly did the hounds deserve him ; so done was he, 
 that a shepherd dog turned him over two or three 
 times in a field near Fallow Close. There was 
 also a great satisfaction for the worthy Master, that 
 in running through his neighbour's country the 
 hounds scarcely dwelt a moment in any of the 
 coverts, nor could they have disturbed any of those 
 
 8 *
 
 116 THE FAMOUS WATERLOO RUN OF 1866. 
 
 that Mr. Tailby might intend drawing the next 
 day. 
 
 The Harborough ball in the evening was the'rendez- 
 vous of the greater portion of those who had been with 
 the hounds in the morning, and the principal topic 
 of conversation, you may be sure, was the famous 
 Waterloo Run of 1866.
 
 117 
 
 BIG STAG Ql? 
 
 /^T If? 1ST 
 UrJLaJcalN 
 
 ED DEER in various portions of the Highlands 
 differ very much in their habits. Those in the 
 forests of Aberdeenshire and Inverness I have 
 always found much easier to get at than those on the 
 Western coasts. The Islands of Mull, Lewis, Harris, 
 Skye, and Jura, all contain red deer, and it is here 
 the stalker meets with something worthy of his steel. 
 Deer-stalking is an art which, like still-hunting in 
 America, is not learnt in a day. It requires patience, 
 endurance, muscles of steel, the power to undergo want, 
 cold, wet, and immense exertion, and then to be ready 
 at the moment your rifle is required, with a steady 
 hand and a quick eye. 
 
 The great secret of deer-stalking is to know the lay 
 of the wind, and the man who means to be successful 
 must spare no time or patience to ascertain it. It is
 
 118 THE BIG STAG OF THE GLEN. 
 
 indeed next to impossible to stalk a stag, I mean one 
 out on the hillside, without having spent at least a 
 week in studying the ground and learning the wind. 
 I remember upon one occasion having to go eighteen 
 miles round for a shot at a stag, and then not getting 
 within 300 yards of him. But I know of no moment 
 that gives the true sportsman such a thrill of pleasure 
 as the one when, having surmounted all difficulties, he 
 finds himself within range, with steady nerves pulls the 
 trigger, and hears the welcome thud of the bullet as it 
 enters the brown side, stretching the lord of the forest 
 and glen lifeless on the heather. 
 
 As a rule, after the end of August, stags are not 
 worth shooting except for their heads, for it is now 
 the ruttiEg season commences and they become thin 
 and emaciated, but their heads are in splendid con- 
 dition, not the least vesture of velvet remaining on 
 their horns. The best time for deer-stalking, is, in 
 my humble opinion, the early morning. I am now 
 speaking of the Western Highlands. Deer leave their 
 beds and feed as soon as the first streak of gray ap- 
 pears in the east ; they then feed up to seven or eight 
 o'clock, when they either retire to the woods for shel- 
 ter, or they lie down in some heathery corrie until the 
 afternoon, when they again feed until the moon rises. 
 If in the neighbourhood of turnip fields they will feed 
 all night, and it is astonishing the amount of injury a 
 stag and a couple of hinds will do in one night.
 
 THE BIG STAG OF THE GLEN. 119 
 
 Whilst stopping with a friend in Argyleshire some 
 years ago I had the good luck to kill a very old stag 
 that had evaded all efforts, whom the Highland gillies 
 imagined was " no canny " ; and as the episode is a 
 good illustration of the difficulties of deer-stalking, I 
 shall endeavour to describe it. The stag had been seen 
 to enter , certain wood the night before, and I felt 
 certain that I should find him somewhere in its neigh- 
 bourhood in -the morning. Accordingly I had made 
 arrangements to be called sometime before sunrise. 
 
 A splash of gravel against my window roused me 
 from my bed, and on looking at my watch I found it 
 was half-past four, or about one hour before sunrise. 
 I was soon dressed ; a couple of bullets in my sporran, 
 and rifle in hand, I descended the stairs. On the hall- 
 table stood a glass of milk, to which I added a glass of 
 whisky ; no bad companion for a November morning. 
 At the hall-door I met the gillie, who was waiting for 
 his " morning," muffled up to his eyes in his plaid. 
 The morning was dark, and a drizzling rain was 
 falling, whilst the fitful moans of the wind, as it 
 passed through the tops of the fir trees, sent a shiver 
 through one, and made you wish yourself back between 
 the sheets. 
 
 About a mile from the house there was a loch, the 
 greater portion of which had been drained, leaving a 
 sort of plain about half a mile in extent, covered with 
 coarse grass and straggling clumps of natural birch
 
 120 THE BIG STAG OF THE GLEN. 
 
 wood. This basin, as it were, was surrounded by hills, 
 whose heathy sides were dotted here and there with 
 clumps of natural cover, where rank grass and fern 
 grew to a considerable height. At one end of this 
 basin were the remains of the loch, a sheet of water 
 about three acres in extent, whilst traversing the length 
 and breadth ran a small burn. This place was called 
 Loch-nan-Meuhll, or the Loch of the Deer ; it was a 
 favourite feeding-ground for those deer who lay in the 
 woods around, and I therefore, naturally, anticipated 
 finding the big stag there. 
 
 As we walked along in silence, not a sound was to 
 be heard, except the occasional challenge of some old 
 cock grouse just shaking his feathers to the early 
 morn. Although the dark shadows of the fir trees 
 cast an impenetrable gloom around us, yet on issuing 
 from the woods and striking on to the moor, I 
 found it was far lighter than I anticipated. Quick- 
 ening our pace, and with the wind in our faces, we 
 soon reached a shepherd's ruined hut immediately 
 over the loch. 
 
 The whole basin was wrapt in a heavy mist. There 
 was nothing for it but to crouch under the crumbling 
 wall until the mist should clear away, and the day- 
 light discover the plateau beneath us. Fortunately for 
 us, the few wethers that had been quartered in this 
 part had been removed a few days before, for red deer 
 have the greatest aversion to sheep. I therefore felt
 
 THE BIG STAG OF THE GLEN. 121 
 
 almost certain that what deer were in the woods would 
 be out feeding in this their favourite spot. 
 
 Anxiously we waited as the gray streaks got broader 
 above the mountain tops, and the mist below wreathed 
 about in fanciful shapes. We could hear the ducks 
 feeding below us, whilst every now and then the 
 sharp warning cry of the curlew broke the silence. 
 Presently the tops of the trees appeared like little 
 islands in a sea of mist, and then one portion, then 
 another, came clearly into view. With my glass glued 
 to my eye, I sought every spot and searched every 
 hollow, but there was nothing to be seen except some 
 old blackcock feeding. Gradually the mist rolled away, 
 settling on the mountain sides, and wreathing round 
 their rocky summits. 
 
 At this moment Sandy touched my arm, and pointed 
 to a small gully immediately opposite to us, from 
 which the mist had cleared off. I levelled my glass, 
 and discovered a hind and calf quietly feeding, but no 
 signs of a stag. Again I searched every nook and 
 corner, but to no purpose, and I was just going to 
 get up, light my pipe, and trudge home, when the gillie 
 seized me by the kilt and pulled me down. 
 
 "Douiildoun! laird, she's there!" he whispered, 
 whilst every muscle in his face quivered with excite- 
 ment. 
 
 I sank down amongst the wet ferns and heather, and 
 unslung my glass. The gillie carefully pulled a stone
 
 122 THE BIG STAG OF THE GLEN. 
 
 oil one side in the ruined wall and pointed to a place 
 below us. On covering it with my glass, what was my 
 astonishment to see a splendid stag about 500 yards 
 below us, just on the edge of the reclaimed portion of 
 the loch ; his head was thrown back, and he was sniff- 
 ing the air, but, alas ! he was to leeward of us, and our 
 only chance was that, being so much above him, the 
 taint had not reached him. 
 
 The morning was fast advancing, and no time was to 
 be lost, as deer seek the shelter of the woods very soon, 
 being disturbed by the farm-labourers and others. 
 What was to be done ? A deer-stalker takes in his 
 position at a glance, and makes up his mind in a 
 second. I had made up mine. Motioning to the gillie, 
 I crept into the path leading to the shepherd's hut and 
 descended into the adjoining valley. I then turned 
 down wind and ran about a quarter of a mile until I 
 reached a small birch wood ; into this I crept. 
 
 I was now to windward of the stag, and by the time 
 I got to the edge of the wood, I was at least a quarter of 
 a mile below him. Trembling from head to foot with 
 the exertion, I unslung my glass and looked up towards 
 the loch. He was not there. Again my eye searched, 
 until, as I was bringing the glass back to the spot 
 from whence I had started my survey, I found our 
 friend. He had moved, having turned down wind, 
 and approached nearer to the birch wood in which we 
 lay concealed. "What was to be done ? It would not
 
 THE BIG STAG OF THE GLEN. 123 
 
 do to await the chance of his coming within shot, 
 neither could I stir out upon the plain without his 
 seeing me ! 
 
 My readers will remember the stream I mentioned 
 which flowed out of the loch ; this stream had been deep- 
 ened in order to assist the draining of the loch, and 
 the soil and stones thrown out on either side made 
 a sort of parapet. The stream was about 200 yards 
 distant from the birchwood in which I was kneeling, 
 and not a tuft of grass to conceal me should I ven- 
 ture to cross over it. In a whisper I asked the 
 gillie if the burn could be approached , lower down ; 
 he said he thought so, and I at once made up my 
 mind what to do. 
 
 Giving my glass to Sandy and taking off my 
 sporran, I crawled from tree to tree and from bush 
 to bush, down wind and away from the stag, until 
 I reached the banks of the stream. Breathlessly I 
 dropped into it, and pulled out my flask. Having 
 taken my breath and steadied myself, I commenced 
 ascending the water, and soon arrived at that portion 
 of the stream before described ; here it was not neces- 
 sary to stoop so much, as the banks were higher. As 
 far as I could judge, the stag was about 120 yards 
 from the stream when I last saw him. I had marked 
 a large piece of rock that lay upon the bank as a place 
 about opposite to him, and I now found myself within 
 a few yards of it. Evidently the deer had not moved
 
 124 THE BIG STAG OF THE GLEN. 
 
 or the gillie would have given me notice. My move- 
 ments were necessarily slow from the cautious manner 
 in which I was forced to walk in the water, sometimes 
 up to my ancles and sometimes over my knees ; but the 
 murmur of the stream deadened all sound. 
 
 Arrived at the rock I flattened myself against the 
 the bank, and, gently moving the heather aside, I had 
 the satisfaction of seeing the stag about fifty yards off, 
 but moving away from me, and consequently leaving 
 only his hind quarters to shoot at. In a second my 
 trusty Rigby rifle was rested on the bank, and I gave a 
 sharp whistle. The noble animal made a bound for- 
 ward, and then, turned round and stood stock still. 
 That moment sealed his fate, as I laid him on the 
 heather with a bullet through his neck. He was a 
 very old stag, and very thin, but his head was in perfect 
 condition and carried ten points. Thus died the " Big 
 Stag of the Glen." Peace be to his ashes, and may 
 the same good luck attend my brother sportsmen.
 
 125 
 
 A "SOW JAGD," 
 
 'HILST residing at Altenahr in the Rhenish 
 Provinces, I was invited to a " sow jagd," 
 or wild pig shooting. This invitation was 
 in the month of April. Now, as I had never killed a 
 pig in any other way than the legitimate one we have 
 in India viz. with horse and spear and knowing the 
 peculiarities of my friends the Germans, so far as any- 
 thing connected with shooting is concerned, I accepted 
 the invitation not without misgivings as to the safety 
 of my carcass, but promising myself a certain amount 
 of amusement. Accordingly, one chilly morning, 
 I repaired to the rendezvous, which happened to be 
 the village of Honingen on the Ahr. There I found 
 nine or ten jagers assembled, each one having a dog at 
 his heels, and armed with the most extraordinary array 
 of weapons that I ever beheld. As to firing them off, 
 or standing near when such a performance was con-
 
 126 A "SOW JAGD." 
 
 templated, nothing on earth would have induced me 
 to do so. Each man had a " jagd-tache," or game- 
 bag, slung over his shoulders, and, as I said before, a 
 dog. 
 
 Now, I opine it would have troubled the judges of 
 sporting dogs in The Field to have ascertained the 
 breed of any one of them ; suffice it to say, they were 
 of all sizes, all shapes, and of various occupations viz. 
 from the sheep-dog to the pointer, from the butcher's 
 dog (for a pair of dogs harnessed to a cart take the 
 meat from place to place out there) to the kitchen cur. 
 What on earth a " hiihner hund " (i.e. a setter or a 
 pointer) had to do with driving pig, I know not. Each 
 man had a stick in his hand to help him up the moun- 
 tain sides, and, of course, his gun slung across his shoul- 
 ders. They expressed considerable surprise]at my having 
 no sling to my Greener gun, and also asked me for my 
 jagd-tache or game-bag; but, as I could not possibly 
 see the use of a game-bag on the present occasion, and 
 as I far from contemplated the pleasure of carrying a 
 wild pig on my shoulders, even if I had the luck to 
 shoot him, I felt perfectly at my ease, although I saw 
 I had already fallen considerably in their estimations. 
 
 When ready for a start, I naturally expected to see 
 some beaters make their appearance : but no. Off we 
 trudged to the neighbouring hill, I inwardly deter- 
 mining to make no remark, but leave the issue to fate ; 
 though how they expected to shoot pig, unless they
 
 A " SOW JAGD." 127 
 
 were as thick as rabbits, in this way, I could not 
 imagine. One thing, however, I knew, which was 
 that I should be_able to see what game there was in 
 the country, and in what quantity. 
 
 After ascending to the top of a very high hill, I, in 
 conjunction with two others, were placed in position, 
 whilst the remainder of the jagers, to the number of 
 seven, were left below to beat up to us with their dogs. 
 Oh ! how I waited, and how I cursed, not being able 
 to smoke a pipe. 
 
 To make a long story short, the same thing was 
 done in each succeeding range of hills, with a like re- 
 sult ; not a " hazel hiihn " did I even see, not a hare, 
 not a ghost of a sign even of game. 
 
 At length, about 3 P.M. in the afternoon, having 
 climbed up to my allotted position, excessively out of 
 temper, very thirsty, and far from charitably disposed 
 to my neighbours, I was in the act of lighting a pipe 
 to console me in my affliction, when, bang ! the report 
 of a gun awoke the echoes around me. " At last," 
 thought I, " but of course he won't come my way, what- 
 ever it is/' Bang, bang, bang ! until the last explosion 
 from my neighbour sent a plentiful supply of buckshot 
 in unpleasant proximity to my person. I believe I 
 said f( Hang it 1" or perhaps it was something else; but 
 I mentally resolved, if I had been hit, to return the 
 compliment with an Eley's No. 1 wire cartridge of 
 No. 00 that I had in my right barrel. Shouts, yells, and
 
 128 A "SOW JAGD." 
 
 vociferations, now mingled with the yelp, yelp of the 
 curs, told me the game was making in my direction. 
 
 Accordingly I stood ready prepared ; a movement 
 in the bushes shortly after disclosed a mountain fox 
 quietly sneaking away of course I did not shoot when 
 his disappearance was almost immediately followed by 
 two of the noisy curs, the pointer (!) being one of 
 them. 
 
 A short time after, my left-hand friend came up to 
 me, accompanied by some of the others, and breath- 
 lessly asked me if I had seen him. Of course, think- 
 ing he alluded to a pig, I answered "No." " Strange," 
 said he ; " the fox came straight for you." " Oh ! the 
 fox," said I ; " oh, yes, I saw him, but I did not think 
 it worth while shooting at him." Tousand, Himmel, 
 Donnery, Wetter, and such like expletives burst from 
 the surrounding jagers, and I still more fell in their 
 estimation. Glad was I to get home, and .safely may 
 T say that there is little or no game in that locality I 
 mean Altenahr. Wild pig do come in the winter-time, 
 and you may get a shot when the snow is on the 
 ground, but it is great labour and very uncertain. 
 There are a few roe deer, partridges, and a very 
 small sprinkling of hares, near Neunahr; but the 
 country is very bare, and no shooting is to be got.
 
 129 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 
 SHOOTING, 
 
 all the modern improvements which the sports 
 man's paraphernalia of to-day presents, none 
 has made such strides as those of the shot-gun. 
 As I look back to that ever-memorable birth-day when 
 I was presented with my first gun, a single barrel with 
 a rib on it, by James Lang, of Cockspur Street, it is 
 almost incredible to think what improvements have 
 been made in gun-making. It is but twenty years 
 ago I scorned the idea that a breech-loader was as 
 hard-shooting a gun as a muzzle-loader ; and both 
 in the Field and Land and Water, I stoutly up- 
 held the merits of the muzzle-loader as far as hard- 
 shooting qualities were concerned, though I was faiu to 
 admit the saving of time and danger through the use of 
 
 9
 
 130 THE PHILOSOPHY OF SHOOTING. 
 
 the breech-loader. Those were the days of the old 
 " Le Fauchieux " with the awkward underneath lever, 
 and the pin cartridges with the escapes of gas through 
 the pin-hole after explosion. Central fire, hammer- 
 less, choke-bore guns were not even dreamt of, to say 
 nothing of concentrators. Then we shot over dogs, 
 and never knew what a mantlet meant. By degrees 
 bar-locks took the place of back-action locks, then 
 again rebounding locks, the double-bolted action, 
 and lastly Mr. Greener's split ejector, an improve- 
 ment upon Needham's first attempt in that direction; 
 these, and many others which my space will not allow 
 me to enumerate, have gone far to improve and perfect 
 the shot-gun of the present day. In spite of all 
 this, the philosophy of shooting remains the same, 
 and, until man is built in a different mould, it will re- 
 main the same to the end of all time, notwithstanding 
 modern improvements. 
 
 There are two important factors common to 
 human nature which will ever militate against good 
 shooting ; the one is pride, and the other is jealousy. 
 There is nothing so distressing to a good shot as to 
 miss frequently comparative easy chances, more espe- 
 cially if the companion he is shooting with, although 
 by no means so good a shot, does not. His pride 
 is aroused, and the harder he tries the wilder he gets, 
 and the more misses he makes. 
 
 I remember once putting this to the test. I was
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF SHOOTING. 131 
 
 shooting with an exceptionally good game shot. Before 
 starting in the morning I arranged with my keeper that 
 the first six cartridges my friend should use should not 
 be loaded with shot. The result was that when he came 
 to the loaded ones he either tailored his birds or missed 
 them altogether. It was useless to explain to him the 
 trick I had played him, and finally he became so ner- 
 vous that he elected not to shoot any more that day. 
 Jealousy is another feature which is very detrimental 
 to good shooting. In the anxiety to obtain the most 
 shots the sportsman is apt to become excited and to 
 take wild chances; this is always supposing that he 
 is shooting in company. To these two grave faults 
 let me add that when a man who ordinarily shoots well 
 misses, he never pauses to think that his bad shooting 
 is perhaps the consequence of a disordered stomach, or 
 that the business of his every-day life may have been 
 of such a trying nature as to have upset the balance 
 of his nervous system. Again, an uncomfortable hat, 
 an awkwardly-made coat, or a pair of boots that 
 gall or pinch, are more than often conducive to bad 
 and irregular shooting. It is folly to say that a good 
 shot can shoot with any gun ; for, inasmuch as no two 
 men are. built alike, or walk alike, so is it reasonable 
 to say that the gun which fits one man will not tit 
 another. I have read with considerable amusement 
 the theoretical opinions which have of late been ex- 
 pressed upon the subject of aiminsr, opinions which 
 
 9 *
 
 132 THE PHILOSOPHY OF SHOOTING. 
 
 can and never will be endorsed by practice. The old 
 rule and the golden one, that when the hand and eye 
 go together the object must fall, is infallible. 
 
 Shooting, like any other pursuit, such as billiards, 
 cricket, tennis, rackets, &c., depends upon the aptitude 
 of the eye, and it is only when this most sensitive organ 
 of the body is disturbed by other influences that its 
 functions become weakened. Constant practice is an- 
 other necessity which is involved in successful shoot- 
 ing, especially as to timing. There are certain shots 
 which most men will rarely if ever miss, always provid- 
 ing they are within range ; but it is only the pro- 
 fessor, cool, calculating and steady, who, no matter 
 how often he misses, or how fewer shots he gets 
 than his companions, will in the aggregate come out 
 at the head of the list.
 
 138 
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE 
 " SPRITE," 
 
 OVEMBER is not exactly the month of the year 
 one would select for a cruise in a 50-ton yawl j 
 and yet the Western Coast of Scotland, with 
 its deep-sea fishing, seal and duck shooting, affords a 
 thousand apologies for choosing a time of the year 
 when the weather is wild and uncertain. Whilst 
 sojourning in the neighbourhood of Tobennory my 
 shooting companion was laid up with a very sharp at- 
 tack of intermittent fever. His medical attendant, on 
 his recovery, suggested a change of air to remove the 
 debility, and he approved of my idea that a cruise in 
 the tf Sprite " might have the desired effect. Now the 
 " Sprite " was a carvel-built boat of 60 feet in length 
 over all, with 15 feet beam, drawing 9 feet 6 inches aft 
 and about 6 feet for'ard. She was strongly built of
 
 134 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE." 
 
 oak, her stem and stern posts of American elm, whilst 
 the midship section of her keel was solid lead, the 
 ends being American elm. She was coppered from her 
 garboard streak up to her water-line with strong copper- 
 plating and her ballast was half pig-iron, half lead. 
 She had a full set of sails, including two top-sails, spit- 
 fire-jib, and trysail, together with a balloon jib and 
 topsail. Her standing rigging was of steel, and all her 
 vopes and running gear of the best white Manilla. 
 Her accommodation was very good. The midship 
 section was, of course, devoted to the saloon, where we 
 had 7 feet of head-room under the deck ; besides this, 
 there were two cabins aft, and a pantry and cabin for- 
 ward of the saloon ; the forepart of the vessel being 
 devoted to the crew, where six hammocks could be 
 easily swung. She had a four-oared gig of 18 feet 
 keel, a dingy, and a duck-boat. The whole of her fit- 
 tings on deck were of galvanised iron, and, being per- 
 fectly new and copper-fastened throughout, the " Sprite" 
 with small canvas on her, could make good weather of 
 it at any time. Not being built for racing, her ?pars 
 and sails were a snug size ; and although we have fre- 
 quently got nine or ten knots out of her with balloon 
 canvas up and the wind three points free, she was not 
 a fast boat, but quite enough so for cruising and com- 
 fort. She had a full complement of fishing-gear 
 consisting of a small trawl, a full set of long lines, 
 and hand lines, whiffing-lines for mackerel and gurnet;
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE " SPRITE." 135 
 
 aud a small trammel-net made at Bridport the most 
 useful sort of net for a craft to have completed these 
 equipments. A crew of three hands and a smart boy 
 were quite sufficient to work the " Sprite" in any 
 weather, though we generally took four ; and as this 
 crew was always ready, and could be got from my 
 friend's estate, we had no sooner matured our plans 
 than we set about overhauling the " Sprite," getting 
 in a few stores, and making ready to carry out my 
 proposed expedition. 
 
 There is, perhaps, no coast in the west of Scotland 
 so much frequented by seals as that of Argyleshire, 
 especially the islands that lie to the south of the Island 
 of Skye; and it was with a view to the shooting of 
 some of these, to have a little cod and ling fishing, and 
 some duck-shooting, that we were now making our 
 arrangements. Our crew was soon got together, con- 
 sisting of old Donald the boatman, his sou Angus, and 
 his nephew Duncan, which with myself, my friend, and 
 his servant, who acted as steward, made up the crew of 
 the saucy " Sprite"; the saloon lockers were quickly 
 filled with bottled beer, soda-water, whisky, rum, tins 
 of soup, jars of marmalade and jam, tea, sugar, &c. 
 A sheep was killed, aud the carcase, cut up, gracefully 
 festooned the after-rail of the "Sprite"; the water- 
 breakers were filled, the coal-bunks supplied, and the 
 chain locker and anchors overhauled. 
 
 Everything was ready within a week, by which time
 
 136 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE." 
 
 my friend was so far convalescent as to be able to 
 hobble about with the use of a stick. It was accord- 
 ingly arranged that we should go on board next day, 
 weigh anchor, and stand over with the flood-tide to 
 Loch Sunart, there being a smaller loch inside it 
 which, we were told, abounded with seals. Next 
 morning, therefore, we embarked in our little craft at 
 low-water. As soon as we were comfortably settled, 
 the mainsail being already set, I gave orders to weigh 
 anchor; we were soon atrip, and, as the anchor came 
 away, we ran up the jib, eased off the mainsheet, and, 
 with a fine breeze from the north-west, stood across 
 for Loch Sunart, some eight miles distant. 
 
 As soon as we were fairly under weigh I set the foresail 
 and jigger, and the little craft went staggering along 
 with as much as she could carry. The sounds and lochs 
 on this coast are subject to heavy squalls which come 
 down from the high hills, and require great caution and 
 prudence; but the " Sprite" was as stiff as a church, 
 and stood up under her canvas like a frigate. When, 
 however, we had got into the middle of the sound, not 
 wishing to strain the gear, and being in no particular 
 hurry, I hauled up the main-tack and took the fore, 
 sail off her, which eased her considerably. It is a very 
 bad plan to carry-on where there is no object, espe- 
 cially if your gear is new, for it gets so stretched that, 
 when you come to anchor, all hands have to turn-to 
 and set up the rigging. Resigning the tiller to Duncan,
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE SPRITE." 137 
 
 I went below to see how my friend fared. I found 
 the saloon fire burning brightly, and the cabin warm 
 and snug, and, most fortunately, neither my friend 
 nor his servant suffering from the movement of the 
 vessel. 
 
 " I am afraid it is too cold to come on deck/' said 
 my friend ; " but I should much like to see the en- 
 trance to Loch Sunart. It must be very grand." 
 
 " Put on your fur coat," said I, " take a rug or a 
 plaid, and you '11 be all the better for a good blow on 
 deck." 
 
 Just then old Donald put his head down, to tell us that 
 we were abreast of the Stirk Rocks, and consequently 
 iu the entrance of Loch Suuart. Accordingly, we went 
 on deck, and as grand a scene broke upon us as 
 we could wish to see. On the right, the Morvin 
 shore stretched away to Artonish, fringed with a snowy 
 wreath of foam ; on the left rose the high hills of 
 Ardnamurchan, covered with snow ; immediately in 
 front bristled the Stirk Rocks, covered with foam, and 
 thousands of birds screaming about them ; whilst the 
 distant hills above Strontian, at the head of the loch, 
 bounded our view. 
 
 As we entered the loch the wind shifted to the north- 
 ward, entailing a pull on the sheets, whilst we stood 
 over for the Ardiiamurchan shore. When within half 
 a mile of it I eased the sheets off again and stood down 
 for the point opposite Glenboradaile. We made the
 
 138 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE." 
 
 entrance to Loch Teachchush, our anchorage for 
 that night, a distance of fourteen miles from Tober- 
 mory, in less than two hours. 
 
 Having come to -anchor, had our dinner, and made 
 everything snug, we began to think what we should do 
 for the rest of the afternoon. I proposed taking the 
 gig, and pulling up the loch to see what seals were 
 there, taking ray gun with me for a chance shot 
 at ducks ; accordingly, leaving all on board, I took 
 Angus with me, and pulled up the loch in search 
 of sport. 
 
 This loch is quite unnavigable, except for small 
 boats, there being very little water in most parts of it 
 even at spring-tides ; but it is covered with small rocks 
 which at low tide show themselves in every direction, 
 and are a favourite resort for seals. Cautiously we 
 advanced, Angus taking a couple of sculls, whilst I 
 sat in the bows, my glass in hand, and swept the 
 loch and shores as we advanced. A low sound from 
 Angus, and the stopping of the oars, made me turn 
 round, when I saw two seals right in our wake, about 
 100 yards distant, looking at us with their large 
 thoughtful eyes. Bidding Angus crouch down, I 
 stealthily took up my rifle, whistling a few sharp 
 notes. The smallest seal immediately advanced some 
 few yards towards the boat, when I pulled the trigger 
 and fired ; the bullet sped true, and the splash and 
 commotion told me that I had hit him.
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE." 139 
 
 "Pull, Angus," cried I, "pull as if the devil was 
 behind you ! " and so he did, being as excited as 
 I was. 
 
 When we arrived at the place, the blood and oil on 
 the water showed plainly that I had hit my mark ; 
 but although the water was clear, and scarcely three 
 fathoms in depth, we could see no signs of the seal. 
 This is the usual disappointment that the seal shooter 
 encounters with a wounded seal, unless he is fortunate 
 enough to shoot one either on a rock whilst he lies 
 basking, or in shallow water, and he kills him flead. 
 It is next to useless to fire at a seal in deep water, 
 unless you hit him in the head, when he will float for 
 a few moments and give you time, if you are near 
 enough, to get up to him. There is no animal so 
 difficult to approach as a seal, and one or two shots in 
 a place will scare every one in the neighbourhood for 
 the rest of the day. Knowing this, 1 pulled back to 
 the vessel, somewhat disappointed, killing a couple of 
 Merganser ducks on my way. 
 
 As we pulled on board the " Sprite,'' the evening 
 was closing in, and it was time to set the trammel 
 if we wanted any fish for breakfast. Accordingly I 
 made old Donald hand it down, whilst I stowed it in 
 the stern-sheets of the boat, and, taking him on board, 
 we pulled to some likely-looking ground and set it 
 across the tide. 
 
 " Fish is some scarce abut here," said Donald, as we
 
 140 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE.' 1 
 
 fastened the last buoy to the net; " but many 's the 
 good seringe of herring I 've had in this place." 
 
 " It looks likely for lobsters, Donald, I think," re- 
 plied I ; " and if we 've nothing better to do to-morrow 
 we might shoot one basket of the long lines, and per- 
 haps get conger enough to bait our lobster-pots with." 
 
 " It used to be a good enough place," said Donald ; 
 " but I 'm thinking its well fushed. Hooever, we can 
 try." 
 
 As we pulled back to the " Sprite " the last rays of 
 the 'sun sank behind Ardnamurchan, and the chill 
 frosty air made me think of the warm cabin and the 
 hot glass of toddy. On going below, after having seen 
 our anchor-light set on the fore-stay, I found my friend 
 already better for the change and anxious to hear of 
 my adventures, which were soon told over a glass of 
 steaming-hot four-year-old whisky. 
 
 We decided upon leaving Loch Teachchush the next 
 morning for some ground round Ardnamurchan point, 
 which Donald told us was the best ground for seals on 
 the coast, intending to look up our old quarters on our 
 return. My friend turned in, and I went on deck to 
 have a look at the weather, see that all was Bristol 
 fashion, and smoke one pipe before turning in. 
 
 When I got on deck the wind had dropped to a calm 
 and the clear sky was studded with a thousand stars ; 
 the waters of the loch were like a glass mirror, with 
 the huge outlines of the mountains by which it was
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE." 141 
 
 surrounded reflected on its surface, deepening the sha- 
 dows round the shore. All nature was still, the silence 
 broken only now and then by the wild cry of the guille- 
 mot, or the shrill challenge of some flock of ducks 
 as they whistled through the air on the way to the 
 feeding- grounds. It is such scenes as these that the 
 loiterer in cities never sees ; it is but to the sports- 
 man whose vagabond propensities lead him to roam 
 from country to country, and from shore to shore, that 
 such sights are permitted, where, if he is a man of 
 thought and intellect, he will find much to reflect 
 upon. 
 
 Let Atheists scoff and unbelievers promulgate their 
 heathenish doctrines as to the Deity and His divine 
 attributes. I am prepared to say that they have never 
 seen God's wonders on the deep, or His works on the 
 rolling prairies of the west, His terrific magnificence 
 on the vast summits of the Himalayas or the gorges of 
 the mighty Cordilleras, or where the hurricane with all 
 its horrors sweeps devastation and destruction over the 
 islands of the Southern seas; or, bound up with the 
 mighty cords of frost, His power is shown in the 
 northern latitudes amongst seas of ice. I have seen 
 them all, and worship the Hand that decreed them, and 
 that Almighty protection that permits man to view 
 the vast works of his Maker and learn what an in- 
 significant unit he is in so vast a creation. 
 
 The day was just breaking when, sailor-like, I turned
 
 142 THE CRUISE OF THE SPRITE." 
 
 out of my bunk ; a jerk at my cabin-bell and a " morn- 
 ing," pulled me together, and I found my way up to 
 the slippery deck. 
 
 " Rig out the gangway, Donald, and get the boat 
 alongside ; we'll take up the trammel,'' I said, "whilst 
 Angus and Duncan wash the deck down." , 
 
 The boat was hauled alongside, and off we set to see 
 what luck we had for our breakfast. 
 
 The net was soon hauled aboard, with but little in- 
 side it. There were a few cuddies, a small cod, a silver 
 haddock enough, however for a fry ; with these we 
 returned to the " Sprite, *' and I soon heard them hiss- 
 ing and spluttering over the stove. Meantime I roused 
 up my friend, and then went into my cabin to perform 
 my toilet. Breakfast over and one that can alone 
 be eaten with an appetite procured by such pursuits as 
 ours I went on deck to get under weigh. The covers 
 were soon off the sails, the mainsail set, and the wind- 
 lass-handles at work. Meantime the weather had 
 changed, the sky was becoming overcast, and thick 
 banks of clouds were gathering in the westward ; the 
 glass too had fallen considerably, and every indica- 
 tion of a smart breeze of wind warned me to make 
 all snug. Accordingly, I shifted the large jib, took a 
 reef in the foresail, and one in the mainsail, housed 
 the top-mast, and had the boats swung inboard and 
 lashed. I then got up the tarpaulins to cover the 
 hatches, served out a glass of grog all round, got the
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE." 143 
 
 anchor up to the bows, and, with the wind one point 
 on the starboard bow, we left Loch Teachchush. 
 
 " Cot, sir ! I'm thinking we'll hae a gude thrashin' 
 at it afore we get round the E-hue; and there's nay 
 anchorage, unless ye run back home," said Donald, as 
 he came aft to where I stood steering the vessel. 
 
 " We can hold on in Queenish Bay, on the one side," 
 answered I, " or Mingary on the other, Donald ; but 
 we won't insult the 'Sprite' by putting back without a 
 try." 
 
 " Weel, weel, laird, it 's a gude bit boat, and she kens 
 her ainsel as weel as I do what we are likely to get off 
 the point." 
 
 " Stand by, for ard," I cried, " ready about ! helm's 
 a-lee, jib-sheet ! " and round spun the " Sprite " on her 
 heel like a top. " Let draw and belay ! " and she was 
 speeding on on the other tack, looking well up for the 
 Stirks. 
 
 As we drew out from the shelter of the Ardnamurchan 
 shore the wind increased and the sea began to get heavy. 
 I was compelled, therefore, to take another reef in the 
 mainsail and dispense with the foresail altogether, and 
 under this small canvas storm-jib and double-reefed 
 mainsail we made the Stirks. Once more we went 
 about, and, the wind being now on the beam, the 
 sheets were eased off, and we stood for Ardnamurchan 
 point. 
 
 A few small flakes of snow began to fall, and I
 
 144 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE." 
 
 almost felt inclined to make forborne; but tben, again, 
 it was a dead nose-ender, and if tbe worst came to the 
 worst, we had but to turn back and run for our old 
 anchorage. We were making some five knots through 
 the water, when, looking up to windward, a sight caught 
 my eye that made me wish I had not left my anchorage. 
 About a mile distant the sky looked like one bank 
 of lead, and a wall of foam and mist was rapidly 
 advancing. I knew what it meant, and prepared to 
 meet it. 
 
 " Stand by the jib-sheet; flat it well in, lads!" I 
 cried. " Donald, take the helm, and keep her ' full 
 and by,' a hand aft to the main sheet, and rouse it in! 
 steady, so ; belay ; keep good way on her, Donald, and 
 don't go any higher." 
 
 "Ay, ay, Sir!" cried the old seaman, as he crammed 
 his Sou'wester down, and took a fresh quid. 
 
 Those of my readers who know anything about 
 seamanship will easily understand that by these man- 
 oeuvres I had got the " Sprite" close-hauled on the port 
 tack, standing as close to the wind as I dared, without 
 her sails shaking. She was thus looking up to the 
 shore of the island with Ardnamurchan point on our 
 beem. Scarcely had these arrangements been made 
 when the snow-storm burst upon us with all its fury ; 
 the air was filled with snow, and you could see nothing 
 beyond the bowsprit end. The " Sprite," however, be- 
 haved well, rising like a duck to the seas, and standing
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE " SPRITE." 145 
 
 stiffly up under her double-reefed mainsail and storm 
 jib/ 
 
 It is a curious circumstance, but there is, perhaps, 
 nothing that affects the compass so much as a snow- 
 storm. In the present instance the card fairly traversed 
 all round, so that, had we been out of sight of land, we 
 should have had to have taken an observation to find 
 our whereabouts, on the first opportunity. 
 
 Whilst I was looking at the binnacle, a sudden crash 
 aloft made me start, thinking we had carried away our 
 mast ; but it proved to be the strop of the throat-halliard 
 block that had given way, and let the luff of the sail 
 down. Immediately I ordered the foresail to be run up, 
 the peak halliards let go, and the jigger set, and under 
 this canvas the "Sprite " went to windward in gallant 
 style. 
 
 Here is a wrinkle worth knowing, and of which 
 a. practical illustration has just been given. When 
 getting under weigh, it is always well to have a strop 
 of stout rope passed round the mast and one end 
 made fast to the jaws of the gaff, the other end to the 
 crosstrees ; so that, in case any such accident should 
 happen as the one just described, the sail is supported 
 by the strop, and does not come down on deck. 
 
 The snow-storm soon cleared off, and, having repaired 
 our damages, we eased the sheets off and ran for 
 Mingary, which bay we reached in the afternoon, 
 coming to anchor in seven fathoms of water. 
 
 10
 
 146 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE." 
 
 Towards evening the strong breeze had blown itself 
 out, and as I deemed our anchorage somewhat too 
 open and exposed, should the wind shift to the south- 
 ward, I weighed anchor, set the foresail, and stood in 
 to Killundrie Bay, coming to anchor abreast the 
 clergyman's house. As soon as everything had been 
 made snug I pulled ashore to see if I could procure 
 any bait in the village for our long lines, whilst 
 Donald went off to set the trammel. I was fortunate 
 enough to obtain four large conger-eels, and some 
 fresh herring, enough to bait five hundred hooks. 
 With this I returned on board, and after supper the 
 crew turned to, to bait the lines. 
 
 A long line, or as it is called in England a " trot," 
 and in Ireland a " spiller," is of very simple con- 
 struction, and is generally used in deep water for cod, 
 ling, halibut, turbot, scate, and conger, smaller lines 
 on the same principle being used for flounders, whit- 
 ing, and codlings. 
 
 The lines we had were dressed with large hooks for 
 cod and ling, each tray or basket containing about 
 200 hooks, with a fathom distance between each 
 hook the length of the foot-line being 250 fathoms, 
 and the buoy-lines 40 fathoms each. The best bait 
 for the large lines are buckies or whelks, fresh herring 
 and conger. Halibut is also an excellent bait. 
 
 When fishing with small lines, mussels, and lug- 
 worm, with bits of crab, are excellent, especially the
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE " SPRITE." 147 
 
 small soft crab found in the fissures of the rocks. 
 These are an almost irresistible attraction to flounders 
 and whiting. 
 
 The best time to shoot long lines is at about half- 
 tide, and to let them fish for two hours ; but the line 
 can be run over, and those hooks that are found to be 
 unbaited can be rebaited, what fish are on it taken off, 
 and the line left for any length of time, if the ground 
 is good, and there are many fish about. Some fisher- 
 men shoot them in the evening, and take them up at 
 sunrise, letting them fish all night; but I do not 
 think this is a good plan, as if there are many large 
 fish on the line, they are sure to get it foul, and in 
 many cases get off. 
 
 The next morning after breakfast, the tide being 
 suitable, we put 500 hooks into the gig, and pulled 
 out to a bank between the mainland and the island 
 about four miles distant from our anchorage. The 
 line is very easily shot, but care must be taken in 
 paying it out to prevent the hooks fouling one another, 
 as in such a case the whole tray or basket would be 
 in a tangle. 
 
 The man who shoots the line stands in the stern 
 sheets, whilst the men at the oars paddle gently. The 
 buoy-line with the stone attached is first hove over- 
 board to leeward, and the men rest on their oars until 
 the stone touches the bottom. As soon as this hap- 
 pens the boat is pulled gently ahead, and the foot-line 
 
 10 *
 
 148 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE." 
 
 is paid out over the leeward side of the boat until the 
 end is reached, when the boat stops, and the other 
 buoy-line is attached, and the stone sunk to the 
 bottom. The buoys are generally made of inflated dog 
 or sheep skins, and the advantage of having two buoys 
 is, that in case one gives way, there is always the 
 other to mark the end of the line. 
 
 We shot our line in 35 fathoms of water, and then 
 pulled in towards Queenish Bay to fish with hand- 
 lines until it was time to take up the " trot." We let 
 go our anchor in 15 fathoms, and with lug for bait, 
 we were soon hard at work, but with little success. 
 We caught a few codlings, and a whiting or two, but 
 the cuddies annoyed us very much by taking our 
 baits off continually. However, by dint of a smoke, 
 and stories from Donald about seals, which only 
 whetted our appetites to be at them, we managed to 
 pass away the time. At length it was time to return, 
 and see what monsters we had caught, and with a 
 dram to cheer us and " for luck," we pulled off to the 
 lines. 
 
 Now shooting a long line is comparatively easy work, 
 but the hauling that long line up is a very different 
 thing altogether. In the first place your fingers get 
 dreadfully cold, and if there are heavy fish they pull so 
 hard that your back and loins ache after you have got 
 but a few fathoms aboard, and in a heavy sea it re- 
 quires great care not to be pitched overboard. A
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE " SPRITE." 149 
 
 short gaff is indispensable to hook the fish into the 
 boat, and a short stout club to hit them over the head, 
 and prevent them from splashing about. 
 
 Having reached the nearest buoy I hauled it aboard, 
 coiling the buoy-line up until I got to the stone. 
 I then took it off, and commenced with the foot-line, 
 coiling it away into one of the trays. The first few 
 hooks produced nothing, and I began to think our 
 labour had been in vain, when a jerk or two at the 
 line told me there was a fish near. 
 
 I forgot to say that the line was shot across the 
 tide, and that in taking it up the person who does so 
 stands in the stern sheets, and the boat is backed as 
 the line comes in. 
 
 " Easy, lads, here 's a good one !" I cried, as a large 
 cod of about 20 pounds came floundering to the sur- 
 face, and Donald who had the stroke oar, hooked him 
 in with a gaff. 
 
 " Come, Sir, that } s better than nothing/' said he. 
 
 " Look out for another. Halloa ! what on earth 's 
 this ? it looks like a hip-bath got foul of one of the 
 hooks," said I. 
 
 " Hech ! hech ! did ever a body see a scate like 
 that ! " said Duncan, as an enormous fish of that 
 species came to the surface. " He 's over big for the 
 boat, Sir; cut him away, and let him go adrift." 
 
 " Hoot tout, Sir, dinna do the like at all, he '11 be 
 grand bait, just go fair and canny. So, ye great ugly
 
 150 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE." 
 
 beast/' said Donald, as, after frightful exertion and 
 many slips, he managed to get him into the boat. I 
 roared with laughter at the struggle between the fish 
 and Donald until my sides ached. And so we went on 
 until we had taken 23 cod and ling, 3 scate, and 4 
 congers. Before half the time was up, however, I was 
 dead beat, and forced to hand over the rest to Donald, 
 while I took to the gaff; infinitely less labour, and 
 quite as amusing. 
 
 We then pulled back to the " Sprite," arriving 
 about 3 o'clock in time for dinner, and giving us the 
 rest of the evening to make preparations for our start 
 for Seal Island, as I shall call it, next morning. 
 
 Before I proceed with our adventures on board the 
 " Sprite," it would be as well to say something about 
 seals, and the species that are found upon the west 
 coast, together with their habits and distinctive 
 marks. 
 
 The west coast furnishes three distinct species. 
 Two of these species I have shot, and the third I have 
 seen, although I have never been able to procure a 
 specimen. The common seal (Phoca Vitulina) or, as 
 it is called by the Highlander, " Rawn" ; the grey seal 
 ( Phoca) called in Gaelic <e Tapvaist " ; and the small 
 seal, the Latin name for which I am unable to dis- 
 cover the Highlanders, however, call them " Bodach," 
 or the Old Man. 
 
 The usual length of the " Rawn/' or common seal,
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE:' 151 
 
 seems to be about 5 feet to 5 feet 6 inches from the 
 nose to the end of the extremities. They are found 
 in considerable quantities on the western coast, and 
 frequent sounds and fiats where fish is abundant, and 
 the water not very deep. Their favourite food seems 
 to be flounders, probably because being a flat fish 
 they are easily caught. They do not, however, con- 
 fine themselves particularly to this sort, as I have 
 see them at the mouths of salmon rivers, especially at 
 the mouth of the " Shiels," where I have no doubt 
 salmon often varied their bill of fare. I have seen 
 them even as high up as the brackish water, but never 
 in fresh. They breed about the month of June, and 
 the female produces sometimes one and sometimes 
 two calves. They are usually whelped in some deep 
 cavern, and shortly after their birth they go to sea. 
 The weight of the adult varies very much, but I have 
 shot one of 14 stone. The colour is a dark tawny 
 white, covered over the back and sides with brownish 
 black spots ; the paws and fins, or feet, are of a 
 darker colour, and the belly dusky grey ; the skin, if 
 I may so call it, is wholly destitue of fur, but is covered 
 with short, thick-set hair, strong and hard to the 
 touch. 
 
 The grey seal, or " Tapvaist,'' is a larger animal 
 than the common seal, and does not occur so fre- 
 quently on the shores of the mainland, although I 
 have seen them very often on the west coast of Skye,
 
 152 THE CRUISE OF THE " SPRITE." 
 
 North and South Uist, and about Barra Head. The 
 uniform colour is a sort of silvery grey, besprinkled 
 with black splotches. From a peculiarity in the hair 
 of the adult, the hair being considerably recurved, the 
 animal when dry, and with its hair turned towards one, 
 seems a sort of silvery grey, especially if the sun is 
 shining upon it, but if looked at in an opposite direc- 
 tion the appearance of the colour becomes at once a 
 sort of dirty brown ; the muzzle of a blackish colour, 
 and the eyes large and round. 
 
 The " Bodach," or Old Man, is much the same in 
 shape, colour, and habits, as the common seal, but is 
 neither so large, nor so shy in its habits. There is, 
 however, a curious formation in connection with the 
 structure of the eye in this animal that is worthy 
 of notice. At the inner angle of the eye will be 
 found a third eyelid, which can be easily drawn over 
 the whole of the eye, and seems to have been placed 
 there as a protection against external dangers of any 
 kind. 
 
 From carefully watching the habits of these animals 
 I find that they seem excessively fond of going on 
 shore frequently, especially on hot, sunny, summer 
 days, and they generally do this every tide. They 
 select the flattest and most shelving rocks that have 
 been covered at high water, and are separated from 
 the mainland. The time they generally choose is half- 
 ebb, and when they stretch themselves upon a rock
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE " SPRITE." 153 
 
 they generally lie with their heads off shore, and as 
 close to the water as possible. They have a keen 
 scent, and can wind anyone approaching to a con- 
 siderable distance. When in large numbers together, 
 they generally place one of their number, as it were 
 on sentry, who gives notice of any danger. They 
 always seem to prefer small rocks for the reason, I 
 conclude, that they are less easily approached. They 
 remain on shore from three to four hours, till the rise 
 of the tide compels them to seek other ground. A 
 seal is easily tamed, and they become great pets. No 
 greater proof of this is to be seen than that of the seal 
 now in possession of the Zoological Society in Regent's 
 Park, where he leaves the water at the call of the 
 keeper, and follows him wherever he goes standing 
 up against the iron rails of his pond, and pressing his 
 muzzle against his cheek. 
 
 Several instances of tame seals have also occurred 
 in the Highlands, where they have been caught when 
 young, and have lived in the cabins, going every now 
 and then to the sea. 
 
 Extraordinary to say, also, they seem particularly 
 partial to lying as close to the fire as possible, and 
 when they have been removed invariably wriggling 
 themselves back to the heat. 
 
 Upon reference to other authors upon the natural 
 history of the seal, we find that they have at one time 
 been used as articles of food. Sir R. Sibbald tells us
 
 154 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE." 
 
 that the people in the Island of Uist attack the seals and 
 kill them, selling the skins, but salting the carcases, 
 which they eat in time of Lent as sweetly as venison. 
 Another author* states that in North Ronaldsay they 
 were captured for the purpose of eating, .and were said 
 to make good hams. 
 
 According to Dean Monroe,f the seals of Islay were 
 slain by the help of trained dogs ; and another author 
 informs us that seals were slaughtered by the inhabi- 
 tants in the following manner. They watched the 
 seals lying upon certain rocks, and when the tide was 
 fairly ebbed they placed themselves at the only out- 
 lets, and then created a disturbance, so as to move the 
 seals, and as they endeavoured to escape stunned them 
 with clubs, and then despatched them. This system is 
 still pursued by the proprietor of the Island of Canna, 
 where, at a certain time every year, many seals are 
 slaughtered with clubs. Again, Mr. Edmonston in- 
 forms us that they have been caught in Shetland in 
 nets, but I have also heard of the same method having 
 been used on the west coast farther south. Seals, we 
 are told, were known to the ancient Romans, who con- 
 sidered that their skins were a protection against 
 lightning. They used to make huts, and cover them 
 with their hides. 
 
 The seal that is found on the western coast must 
 
 * Low. t Martin's Western Islands.
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE." 155 
 
 hot, however, be confounded with that valuable animal 
 the " Fur seal " (Otaria Falklandica) ; the skin of 
 the seals I have been endeavouring to describe being 
 of too coarse a texture to admit of its being used for 
 ladies' cloaks, muffs, or tippets. It is, however, often 
 made into coats, and very comfortable they are. 
 
 At the outset of these remarks I should have stated 
 that naturalists of the present day have divided the 
 seal tribe into two great species, the first one called 
 the Inauriculata, or earless seals, and second, the 
 Otaries, or eared seals. The peculiar characters of the 
 Phocae proper are, that their feet are enveloped in 
 the integuments, so becoming swimming paws ; the 
 anterior are very short, and the posterior much in the 
 same line with the body ; they have no external ears, 
 and the toes of the feet are webbed and terminated by 
 sharp claws.* With regard to the other species, the 
 Otaries, as they are the inhabitants of another clime, I 
 do not consider it my province to describe them in 
 these pages, the more so, as I am not acquainted with 
 them except from the perusal of books on natural 
 history. Having therefore, I trust, interested my 
 readers, to a certain extent, in connection with the 
 seal, I shall proceed with our adventures on board the 
 " Sprite " in search of them. 
 
 The next morning, the day being fine and the wind 
 
 * Sir William Jardine, Bart.
 
 156 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE." 
 
 fair, we set sail for the island that Donald had told 
 us of, and which lay to the south-east of the Island 
 of Canna. After a fair run of three hours, we came 
 to anchor off the Island of Musk, and sat down to 
 breakfast. Cod-steaks nicely broiled, a bit of turbot 
 curried, and some fried ham and eggs, are no bad 
 things after a three hours' blow on the stormy 
 Atlantic. 
 
 I need hardly say we did full justice to our fare ; 
 and when, after satisfying the inner man, we buttoned 
 ourselves up in warm pea-jackets, and went on deck 
 to smoke the post-prandial pipe, with the blue sea 
 around us, the hills on the mainland rising boldly 
 up in the distance, whilst the Scour of the Island of 
 Eig shot up into the blue vault on our starboard bow, 
 and the waters danced merrily in the sunshine, I 
 fancied myself at peace with all mankind, and the 
 happiest fellow alive. 
 
 Donald thought that we should make the Island 
 of Canna that evening, it being only twenty-five miles 
 distant, and the wind and tide with us ; therefore, as 
 soon as the men had breakfasted, we hove short, 
 made sail, and kept her away north by east, leaving 
 the Island of Eig on our starboard hand, and steering 
 for the southernmost part of the Island of Rum. 
 Soon the lofty peak of Benmore was distinctly seen, 
 crowned with mist, and as we kept away half a point 
 to the eastward, we opened the Island of Canna,
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE: 1 157 
 
 which place we reached about 3 P.M. after a rattling 
 run of three hours and a quarter. 
 
 We came to anchor under the laird's house, and 
 having landed and asked for leave to wage war against 
 the seals, we obtained his kind permission, and 
 returned on board to dinner, though his Scotch 
 hospitality would fain have detained us ; but so 
 anxious were we to commence operations, that we 
 excused ourselves in the best way we could, and 
 returned on board. 
 
 Whilst at anchor, several seals showed themselves 
 in our neighbourhood, and it was with difficulty that 
 I restrained my friend from having a shot. Whether 
 he slept that night or not, I am not prepared to say ; 
 but, on my turning out at break of day, I found him 
 both up and dressed, and giving his rifle a rub over. 
 
 " My dear fellow," said I, " you are full two hours 
 too early ; it is of no use going over to the island 
 until dead low-water, and the .tide has only ebbed 
 three hours." 
 
 "Well, you see," he replied, "I couldn't sleep, and 
 I 've been laid up so long that, somehow or another, 
 my activity seems to have taken a fresh lease, and I J m 
 fit for anything. You see, it will take us about an 
 hour to get ready and pull over to the island, so that 
 we've just got an hour to spare; so if you '11 give 
 William a hail, in order that we may have something 
 for breakfast, I '11 see the traps stowed in the boat."
 
 158 THE CRUISE OF THE " SPRITE." 
 
 Our arrangements were soon completed, the boat 
 loaded, and all in order by the time that breakfast 
 was announced ; that meal was soon despatched, and 
 about an hour and a half before low- water we started 
 for our ground, having previously made the stern 
 determination not to fire a shot, no matter how 
 tempting, until we had arrived at our ground. 
 
 The weather was all that could be desired at that 
 season of the year ; the sea calm, and the sun shone 
 bright after a hard frost in the morning, and every- 
 thing was bathed in sunshine as we left the side of 
 the " Sprite." After a good hour's pull, we got 
 under the lee of our island, and a truly desolate 
 *' sealy " place it looked. The rocks, like all those 
 of the islands of the western coast, seemed heaped 
 upon one another in the most disorganized way, as if 
 some violent eruption had tossed them into the air, 
 and they had remained , as they fell for years and 
 years. It is a thing to be remarked, that in all the 
 islands of the Hebrides, there are no primary symptoms 
 to be seen in their geological formations. 
 
 As we drew near the island, we exercised the 
 greatest caution for fear of disturbing the seals at 
 their siesta, and I narrowly examined the place 
 without being able to understand Donald's method 
 of proceeding. 
 
 To all appearances it seemed nothing but a rock about 
 a mile in circumference, rising abruptly from the water,
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE." 159 
 
 its sides indented with hollows or caves, formed by 
 the constant churning and fretting of the Atlantic, 
 and without a sign of vegetation upon it. Immediately 
 opposite to us, however, there appeared a sort of small 
 sandy cove, scarce large enough to admit of our 
 boat, towards which we were approaching with great 
 caution, the wind being in our teeth. 
 
 As the nose of the boat grated noiselessly on the 
 sand, we landed cautiously and quickly, one by one, 
 when we found ourselves upon a small platform, as it 
 were, of sand, and a scarped rock surrounding us on 
 all sides, apparently inaccessible. Donald, however, 
 pointed out to us a sort of stair cut in the rock, up 
 which we crept, and, having reached a fissure a con- 
 derable height up, he desired us to look through, aud, 
 as I was the first, I did so, and was fairly taken aback 
 by the scene. 
 
 The centre of the rock seemed to me like a cauldron, 
 which was filled from the ocean through a passage 
 about twelve feet in breadth, exactly opposite to 
 us. This salt-water lake, if I may so call it, was 
 now nearly dry, and upon the small pieces of weed- 
 covered rock that dotted its surface basked several 
 seals. 
 
 After looking at this strange freak of nature for 
 some little time, caused doubtless by a volcanic 
 eruption of bygone days, I turned my attention to 
 the seals. There were, as far as I could see, about
 
 160 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE." 
 
 a dozen, some asleep, others lazily stretched on the 
 rocks, whilst one or two were chasing one another 
 in the water, the depth of which could not at the 
 utmost have been more than three feet. 
 
 Our dispositions were soon made. My friend and 
 I were to gain the opening opposite by creeping round 
 the rocks, and as Donald frightened the seals we 
 were to shoot as they made out through it for the 
 open sea. I bargained, however, for a shot at an old 
 bull seal that lay on a rock by himself, monarch of all 
 he surveyed,. and I begged Donald not to show himself 
 until I had fired. My friend went to the right, I 
 crept to the left, and after hal-an-hour's crawling 
 and creeping, I found myself in the right spot. My 
 friend had, however, not yet arrived, and I waited in 
 the greatest fear that the seals would wind me, and 
 commence making off. I took stock of the old bull 
 seal, who still lay in the same position, and, as far as 
 I could judge, about 100 yards off. 
 
 He seemed to be a little uneasy, fidgeting 
 about and sniffing the air. I was, however, a little 
 out of his line, but I suspect that he winded my 
 friend, and, accordingly, I rested my rifle over a rock 
 in front, and prepared to fire. My rifle was a poly- 
 groove one, No. 12 bore, a muzzle-loader, made by 
 Eigby, and sighted up to 200 yards. I put up the 
 100-yards sight and drew bead, with my finger on 
 the trigger. At that moment my friend gave a low
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE " SPRITE." 161 
 
 thistle; I touched the trigger, the bullet sped true, 
 and with a thud entered the seal's body. 
 
 The report woke up ten thousand echoes, whilst, 
 with such a splashing and commotion as I never saw, 
 the seals made for our opening in order to get to sea, 
 and, as one came up, my friend let drive, but missed, 
 when they all turned back, diving again, and in the 
 clear shallow water we could see them darting about 
 like huge fish. Meantime my seal rolled into the 
 water, dyeing the surface with blood and oil, and 
 lashing about in a furious manner ; but his struggles 
 were soon over, and I saw his carcase lying inanimate, 
 half submerged. Meantime, the seals occasionally put 
 up their heads, when my friend's rifle cracked again 
 and again, but to no purpose. 
 
 At last I motioned to him not to fire any more, but 
 to conceal himself, in the hope of inducing the seals 
 to make for the opening into the sea, when we could 
 get a shot with a certainty as they wriggled their 
 bodies over the ledge of rock that closed the opening 
 to the lake, but thirty yards distant from our position. 
 We lay perfectly still for full half an hour, and I 
 began to get impatient. 
 
 Upon looking at the rock, I saw the tide was 
 making rapidly, when, of course, the seals would be 
 able to escape through the opening under water. The 
 only chance to get another, and secure the one I had 
 shot, therefore, was to risk a shot at the head of one 
 
 11
 
 162 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE:' 
 
 as he came up for breath. Cautiously peeping over, 
 I saw a head, about fifty yards off, evidently recon- 
 noitring the opening. I accordingly determined to 
 venture a shot. I pulled the trigger, aiming about 
 half-an-inch under his head ; the bullet was true, and 
 hit fair; the seal, instead of diving, commenced 
 whirling round and round on the surface of the water, 
 and in a few minutes disappeared. 
 
 I then shouted to Donald that the tide was making, 
 and that we had better secure our booty, as the water 
 was already coming over the ledge of rock that 
 closed the entrance. The last seal I had shot was 
 found quite dead at the bottom, and, having secured 
 the other, we dragged them off in triumph to the boat. 
 As we were leaving we could see the seals making off 
 through the opening, upon which there must have 
 been by this time quite two feet of water. 
 
 Donald told us that the way the people killed them 
 was by going once or twice a year, in a party of twenty 
 or thirty, leaving four men with clubs to guard the 
 entrance. The others then went into the water, and 
 drove the seals to the opening, where they were 
 stunned by the clubs of those stationed there. The 
 old bull seal I had killed was a grand fellow, five 
 feet five inches in length, measuring from the extre- 
 mities; whilst the other was apparently a young one, 
 measuring about four feet six inches. 
 
 After thus disturbing their retreat, it was evident
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE "SPRITE." 163 
 
 we should have no more chance, as the seals would not 
 return for perhaps another three weeks, at least, Donald 
 said so. After, therefore, having a day at the ducks 
 round the island, we determined upon running up the 
 Sound of Islay, in the hope of finding another seal 
 preserve ; but with the exception of one bodach that 
 my friend killed with B.B., we had no luck, although 
 we fired a good many shots. 
 
 We had now been absent three weeks, during which 
 time my friend had thoroughly recovered ; and what 
 with some excellent duck-shooting and deep-sea fishing, 
 together with our three seals, we had no insignificant 
 bag to boast of on our return to Tobermory, for which 
 place we set sail, dropping our anchor, after a twenty- 
 four hours' passage from the Sound of Skye, in the 
 bay of that name.
 
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 Price of Trout 2s. 6d., find Salmon 3s. 6d. each. Of all Tackle Dealers. 
 
 Wholesale of S. ALLCOCK & CO., Redditch. 
 
 Allcock's Book of Reference for Anglers, with some thousands of Illustrations, 
 many of them coloured, can be had (post free) for 4s. 
 
 SPECIALITIES. 
 
 Built Cane Trout and Salmon Rods. 
 The Standard Waterproof Trout and Salmon Lines, warranted Pure Silk. 
 
 Trout Split Upright Wing Flies. Salmon Flies. 
 
 Perks' Registered Waterproof Lock-Joint Trout Rods. 
 
 Marston's Pattern Trout Rods.
 
 FISHING AND SHOOTING BOOTS. 
 
 Eatab*- 
 1839. 
 
 70, REGENT STREET, LONDON, W. 
 
 AGENT IN LONDON FOR THE CELEBRATED 
 
 K," FISJUM & BflOOTIJifi BOOTS, 
 
 Price 27s. per pair. 
 
 Specially prepared from the Anhydrous Waterproof Leather ordered by the 
 Admiralty for the Arctic Expedition, and recommended to Gentlemen for 
 
 WALKING, SHOOTING, AND FISHING, 
 
 on account of its absolutely Waterproof Properties. 
 
 "LAND AND WATER" of Nov. 4, 1882, says of the "K" Boots: 
 
 " They ought to form a part of the kit of not only every sportsman and fisherman, 
 but also every yachtsman and traveller." 
 
 ALSO 
 
 LARGEST STOCK IN ENGLAND 
 
 OF 
 
 BEST QUALITY HAND-SEWN 
 
 FISHING AND SHOOTING BOOTS, 
 
 OF N. THIERRY'S OWN MAKE. 
 
 Prices 24s. to 35s. 
 These are made to order at 2s. per pair extra. 
 
 LONDON: 70, REGENT STREET QUADRANT, W.; 
 
 ALSO AT 
 
 48, GRESHAM STREET, and 131, FENCHURCH STREET, E.G. 
 MANCHESTER : 2, St. Ann's Square. LIVERPOOL : 5, Bold Street.
 
 BOOKS ON HORSES AND RIDING. 
 
 New and Cheaper Edition. 8vo., half-bound, 10s. 6d. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED HORSE DOCTOR. Being an Accurate and De- 
 tailed Account, accompanied by more than 400 Pictorial Representations, 
 characteristic of the various Diseases to which the Equine Race are 
 subjected ; together with the latest Mode of Treatment, and all the 
 requisite Prescriptions written in Plain English. By EDWARD MATHEW, 
 M.R.C.V.S. 
 
 New and Cheaper Edition. 8vo., 7s. 6d. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED HORSE MANAGEMENT. Contains Descriptive 
 remarks upon Anatomy, Medicine, Shoeing, Teeth, Food, Vices, Stables ; 
 likewise a plain account of the situation, nature, and value of the various 
 points ; together with comments on grooms, dealers, breeders, breakers, 
 and trainers ; Embellished with more than 400 engravings from original 
 designs made expressly for this work. By E. MATHEW. A new Edition, 
 revised and improved by J. I. LUPTON, M.R.C.V.S. Crown 8vo., 
 Illustrated, 6s. 
 
 THE MANAGEMENT AND TREATMENT OF THE HORSE, IN 
 THE STABLE, FIELD, AND ON THE ROAD. By WILLIAM 
 PKOCTEK (Stud Groom). Second Edition, revised and enlarged. 
 
 " There are few who are interested in horses will fail to profit by one portion or 
 another of this useful work." Scotsman. 
 
 " We cannot do better than wish that Mr. Procter's book may find its way into the 
 hands of all those concerned in the management of the most useful quadruped we 
 possess." England. 
 
 "There is a fund of sound common-sense views in this work which will be interest- 
 ing to many owners." Field. 
 
 " Coming from a practical hand, the work should recommend itself to the public." 
 Sportsman. 
 
 Crown 8vo., with Portrait, 5s. 
 
 LADIES ON HORSEBACK; Learning, Park-Riding, and Hunting. 
 With Hints upon Costume, and Numerous Anecdotes. By Mrs. POWER 
 O'DoKOGHUE (Nannie Lambert), Authoress of " The Knave of Clubs," 
 " Horses and Horsemen," &c. 
 
 " Thoroughly practical, dealing with learning, park-riding, hunting, and costumes, 
 and written in a style that is sure to win readers. We heartily recommend the book." 
 Graphic, 
 
 "A very complete and useful manual, written in a pleasant, lady -like way by a 
 thorough mistress of the subject, and full of valuable hints." Vanity Fair. 
 
 " Mrs. Power O'Donoghue has laid that large and increasing number of her sex 
 devoted to equitation under a deep debt of gratitude by the production of this 
 charming volume." Irish Sportsman. 
 
 Crown 8vo., price 2s. 6d. 
 HOW TO RIDE AND SCHOOL A HORSE. By E. L.ANDERSON. 
 
 " It requires the study of only a very few pages of this book to convince the reader 
 that the author thoroughly understands his subject." Illustrated Sporting and .Dramatic 
 News. 
 
 "Concise, practical directions for riding and training, by which the pupil may 
 become his own master." Land and Water. 
 
 Crown 8vo , 2s. 6d. 
 
 A SYSTEM OF SCHOOL TRAINING FOR HORSES. By E. L. 
 ANDERSON, Author of " How to Ride and School a Horse." 
 
 "He is well worthy of a hearing." Bell's Life. 
 
 "Mr. Anderson is without doubt a thorough horseman." The Field. 
 
 London : W. H. ALLEN & Co., 13 Waterloo-place.
 
 Champion Gold Medal, 1886. 
 
 THE ONLY GOLD MEDAL, EXPOSITION CDLINAIRE 
 ARTISTIP, 1887. 
 
 V. BENOIST. 
 
 Cfyareuterie et Comestibles. 
 
 PURVEYOR 
 
 TO THE 
 
 ROYAL FAMILY, THE HOUSE OF COMMONS, 
 
 AND ALL THE 
 
 CHIEF CLUBS AND HOTELS OF LONDON. 
 
 SPECIALITIES. 
 
 CELEBRATED BRAISED BEEF, A LA GEL^E, AND IN BOXES. 
 
 GALANTINES DE VOLAILLE. DRESSED BOARS' HEADS. 
 
 BOABS' HEADS WITH PISTACHIOS. GAME PIES OF ALL KINDS. 
 
 OX TONGUES, DRESSED OR ROLLED. 
 
 STRASBUEG PATES, &c. TRUFFLED CAPONS. TRUFFLED TURKEYS. 
 
 GALANTINES OF TURKEY. SAUCISSONS DE LYON. BRAWNS. 
 
 POULARDES TRUFFEES. ROUNDS OF BEEF. 
 
 19, WARDOUR ST., COVENTRY ST., 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 TELEPHONE No. 3919. 
 
 IMPORTANT NOTICE. The Vans of the Establishment deliver in all 
 parts of the Metropolis every morning and afternoon. 
 
 -FOR THE COUNTRY. All Parcels under 11 Ibs. can be sent by 
 "Parcel Post."
 
 TOMLINSON'S 
 
 IMPERIAL 
 
 HORSES ^-^BBBdflS* CATTLE 
 
 EMBROCATION. 
 
 Chapped Heels. Sore Shoulders. 
 
 Broken Knees. Capped Hocks. 
 
 Sore Throats. Rheumatism. 
 
 Wind Galls. Sore Backs. 
 
 Over-reaches. Influenza. 
 
 Strains. Bruises. 
 
 Sprains. Wound?. 
 
 Splints. Curbs. 
 
 Sore Mouths in Sheep and Lambs. 
 
 Foot Rot in Sheep. 
 Sprains, Cuts, and Bruises in all Animal?. 
 
 J?r*ioe 2 - per* bottle. 
 
 bt bab from 
 
 j 
 
 Messrs. BARCLAY d SONS, 95, Farringdon Sired, 
 
 Of all Chemists, or post free of the Maker, at 
 
 9 Langton Street,
 
 GEORGE CURRELL, 
 
 64, Parchment Street, 
 WINCHESTER. 
 
 The above has purchased Mrs. Cox's well-known 
 
 business, and is ready to supply all the best 
 
 Patterns of 
 
 TROUT JIMD GOYLLNG FLIES. 
 
 TO 
 
 Two Miles of the best water on the Itchen 
 below Winchester, by Season Ticket. 
 
 
 
 Highly recommended by " Light Cast " and the late 
 Mr, Francis Francis.
 
 DR. JAEGER'S 
 
 SANITARY 
 WOOLLEN 
 
 Has been adopted by Thousands of thinking people. 
 
 Health, Comfort, Energy, 
 
 ARE PROMOTED BY IT. 
 
 41 to 44, Fore St., ^^ 3 & 4, Prince'sSt., 
 London, E.C. Caven(lis w h 
 
 w, 
 
 85to86,Cheapside, &*jfe& 59, East Street, 
 London, E.C. Brighton. 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE CATALOGUES SENT FREE 
 ON APPLICATION. 
 
 GOLD M E D A L International Health Exhibition, 
 London, 1884.
 
 SPRATTS PATENT 
 
 Meat "Fibrine" Vegetable 
 
 DOG CAKES 
 
 (WITH BEETROOT). 
 
 SEE EACH CAKE IS STAMPED 
 
 SPRATTS PATENT AND A "X. 
 
 Cod Liver Oil Dog Cakes, 
 
 FOR PUPPIES AFTER DISTEMPER, AND FOR DAINTY FEEDERS 
 AND SICK OR PET DOGS. 
 
 DISTEMPER POWDERS, WORM POWDERS, MANGE, 
 
 ECZEMA, AND EAR CANKER LOTIONS, 
 
 TONIC CONDITION PILLS, dc. 
 
 PAMPHLET ON CANINE DISEASES, AND FULL LIST OF 
 MEDICINES, POST FREE. 
 
 POULTRY MEAL, 
 
 The most Nutritious and Digestible Food for Chicks and 
 Laying Hens (being thoroughly cooked). Samples Post Pree 
 
 New Edition of "THE COMMON SENSE OF POULTRY KEEPING," 
 
 SD., POST FREE. 
 
 "Spratts Patent Limited," London, S.E
 
 FISHING 
 GUT. 
 
 The only Gold Medal for best General 
 
 Gut Exhibit, International 
 
 Fisheries Exhibition, London, 1883, 
 
 ic as awarded to 
 
 ROBERT RAMSBOTTOM, 
 
 GUT IMPORTER AND 
 FISHING TACKLE MANUFACTURER, 
 
 , Market Street, 
 
 The Gut Report and Price List for 
 Current Year will be forwarded "on 
 receipt of addressed envelope.
 
 GUN AND RIFLE MAKERS 
 ^ppotnttncnt to ftM.ft. |i)tmcc of 
 
 ESTABLISHED 1760. 
 
 PATENTEES OF VARIOUS IMPROVEMENTS IN 
 
 Hammerless Guns and Rifles, 
 
 ALSO OF 
 
 A MW JGTOR 011H. 
 
 Price Lists on application to 
 
 72, ST. JAMES'S STREET, LONDON; 
 
 and 24, SUFFOLK STREET, DUBLIN.
 
 ESTABLISHED ft 00106199 3 
 
 JOSEPH LANG & SON'S 
 
 GOLD MEDAL 
 GUNS AND RIFLES. 
 
 Strongest actions made, suitable alike for Large Bors 
 Rifles or Small Bore Guns. 
 
 Perfect Safety ; cannot be snapped off when the barrels 
 are removed from the action. 
 
 ONLV HUTU-CLASS I'liACTICAJ, WORKMAN KMPI/nr.D. 
 
 Ecsttmomals. 
 
 AN OFFICER writes: ' Upper Burmah, Nov. 1<>, 1886. I have used the 
 Rifle a good deal, and find it matchless for accuracy. I a in delighted 
 with it in every way. E. R. P.'' 
 
 ANOTHER OFFICER writes: i! India, July 13, 1887. The (Ju:i and 
 Rifle I got from you were first-class. Later on I shall want an *-). 
 Rifle and a good Rook Rifle. CAI-T. A. A. P." 
 
 ANOTHER LETTER, received July !), 1887: The -oOO.Boro Express 
 Rifle you supplied I have .shot with a good deal, and I find it evrrvti 
 I could wish." 
 
 GUNS. 
 
 Highest (Duality, with or without Hammers ...... ... 4."> <;\; 
 
 Same Quality as above, Plainer Finish ... ... ... ... 40 
 
 Second Quality ... ... ... ... ... ... ... :!0 
 
 Plainer Finish ... ... ... ... ... '2~> 
 
 We have also Mauhine-mad.- (Inns, fnr.u i'lu i f i'ls. 
 
 RIFLES. 
 
 Highest Quality, any calibre ... ... ... ... ... .">.") 
 
 Second .. .. ... ... ... . . (0 
 
 Plain .. .. ............... LC, 
 
 CARTRIDGES at Store Prices. 
 
 In Cartridge* loaded by J. L. & SOX. th-- b/st .piality P.^v, .lei . Sh-.t-;. \\':<.<\~. 
 j;id Cases are used only (ijuarantoed). 
 
 Only Address: 22, COCKSPUR ST., PALL MALL.