150 Sporting Sketches in Pen and Pencil. 



or more, and brought him in to the side. Pat had the gaff ready. In 

 a moment more he would have been on the bank, when the fly flew up 

 in the air, and the fish drifted down and away, scarce able to wag his 

 tail. They say ye're a fisherman, come to me unbroken out of the 

 Fall Hole, and I'll talk to ye." 



I need not say after this challenge that I never passed the hole without 

 having a cast over it. It was a sort of piscatorial ass's bridge which I 

 determined to solve. I had never hitherto risen or seen a fish in it ; but one 

 evening, quite late, I was coming home down the south bank, and I took 

 a flying cast over it. I couldn't swear to it, as it was quite in the dusk, 

 and I was well above the pool ; but I was almost sure that I saw the 

 head and shoulders of a big fish shove up out of the water as the fly was 

 whisked away. I kept my own counsel, however. The next day I was 

 up at the top of the river and couldn't try it, but the day after I was in the 

 neighbourhood and resolved to. I had had bad luck; one or two fish 

 had beaten me, and got away, and only one came *;o hand, and that was 

 only about 111b., a mere schoolboy; when, as I came along, I hooked 

 a rattling good fish off the quay on the Ledges. He was a fish of 

 about 171b. or 181b., and made a desperate fight, running up right 

 into the thin rapid water, and ploughing it up again and again. I had 

 no end of a tussle with him, and I played him heavily, wishing to get 

 him- out quickly. At length, getting rather tired of it, and being anxious 

 to get to the Fall Hole, I put the pot on and hauled him slithering in 

 on his side done. I was just going to give the "whoohoop," when the 

 beast of a fly came away, and the fish, with a last faint wag of his tail, 

 contrived to scuttle out of reach. It was then getting towards evening, 

 and throwing a hasty blessing after the fish, I shouldered my rod without 

 looking at or testing the line, and, followed by Johnny Lightly, who was 

 then with me, I set off for the Fall Hole. I could just see to fish it, as 

 the last rays of light were fading, and, with a preliminary switch, I 

 sent the fly out into the hurly-burly. Round it came into the curve, 

 rising and falling — rising and falling — against the eddying stream. Now 

 then ! Ha ! " Tug-whack-smack." Oh, Jemima Jane Anna ! Oh, 

 Beelzebub, Belphegor, and all the race of Lucifer 1 The fly is gone, 



