56 Sporting Sketches in Pen and Pencil. 



" He turned a little then, sir." 



" All right, you'll have him. Carefully, carefully ! Whatever you do 

 don't make a bungle. That'll do fine ! Ha ! I saw him turn that 

 time ! There ! and by George you're in him, too ! Get up stream with 

 him, away from the hatches all you can ! " 



" "What a strong brute it is ! I can hardly turn him from that 

 hatch ! " 



" You must, or be smashed to chips ! Put the pot on ; you may as 

 well break this side as t'other. The other's a certainty; this isn't. Well 

 done ! well played ! Go and stand at the hatch with the net, Pen ton ; and 

 if he comes near it, splash like forty thousand dolphins or devils, and 

 drive him up. There he goes again ! Well done, Penton ! well fought, 

 fish ! well played, piscator ! That last go was on the brink ! " 



" He seems weaker and shorter ; but I'm afraid to bring him in, for 

 there's a kick in the old boss yet ! " 



" Yes, but he is pretty near done. Sink the net well under the 

 surface in that corner. Now then ! Well done, Penton ! Hooray ! 

 Two pounds and a half good, and a capital fish. Hooray ! again. 

 Bravo Crayon ! " 



Crayon beams like a halo, and looks as proud as a dog with 

 two tails, and the fish receives the usual obituary notice. The 

 scene is capitally drawn in the illustration by our friend Crayon 

 himself. He hasn't done justice to himself, but then artists rarely do. 

 The back view of Penton is, however, fine. 



Then I go down to the lower water, a fine streamy strong bit 

 below the hatches, running for half a mile and more down the stream, 

 and full of capital fish ; and although one of much over two pound 

 is not common, pound-and-a-halfers may be met with, and pounders are 

 tolerably common. 



I sold one of our friends a bit of a bargain over these two lengths 

 of water a little time ago. Having fished the water for two or three 

 seasons, I knew the value of the various stretches, and what time suited 

 one and what the other. My friend was parcel of a jealous fisher, and 

 seemed possessed of the notion that everyone else was. As he was a new 



