AI^GLIIs'-G lE^ THE IRWELL; 



A RECORD OF MEMORIES AND HOPES. 

 BY EDWARD CORBETT. 



IS sixty years" since, when in my early days, 

 the idea of railway travelling yet undeveloped 

 and the fouling of streams comparatively 

 infrequent, my angling facilities were limited to a few 

 ponds near home, where, with frequent catches of 

 the beautiful stickle-back, or Jacksharp, we had an 

 occasional prize in the form of a dace, or a Prussian carp 

 perhaps two ounces in weight. The report of such a 

 catch was sure to bring a gang of fishers to that pond. 

 As to river fishing in those bye-gone times, it was what 

 salmon fishing is now to the trout fishers of Manchester, 

 a thing to be thought of, and possibly to be had some 

 day. 



The Bolton canal was a stage in advance of the pond 

 fishing. I have seen a row of ten or twelve men within 

 easy-speaking distance, each earnestly watching his three 

 or four rods with hair lines and quill floats ; one of them 

 perhaps with a silk line and two lengths of a very superior 

 and costly article called gut at the end. These with wasp- 

 bait, or worm, or maggot (gentles we did not know), were 

 successful in catching a few dace, gudgeon, and eels. 



