72 DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 



glides off smoothly, carrying with it tenderly the newly 

 made flecks of foam. 



It is the never-ending variety of features that our 

 rivers have that fascinates and brings back memories 

 of red-letter days 'midst similar scenes with comrades 

 whose faces stand revealed with open lips as if to 

 speak. My memory of those who made up our roaching 

 parties needs no such aid. I see them now crowding 

 round Mrs Ted, who is offering ends of rolled-up papers, 

 the contents of which sent Jack up-stream, Ted down, 

 and left me the middle beat. 



Jack was one amongst the many practical fishers 

 of my acquaintance who had no faith in luck : 'Another 

 name for laziness, my boy,' was his description of it; 

 so he was a sticker hard to beat when he settled down 

 with his long bamboo. Although a great favourite 

 with the ladies in the intervals for lunch and tea they 

 deserted him quickly for Ted when the contest was 

 really on, as they could not understand his anfewers, 

 if answers they got, to their most bewitching notes 

 when once his little red-tipped quill began to travel 

 down his swim. 



Ted was ver^^ lucky, and believed in luck so stead- 

 fastly that he did the silliest things imaginable to 

 give it a chance of happening, and, strange to say, 

 luck so often came to him that he was never surprised 

 nor startled but accepted whatever it brought with 

 the utmost coolness as if he had expected it. Ladies 

 were ever welcomed by him; they in no way inter- 

 fered with his chances, as, at their approach, he laid 

 his rod down so as to hang out towards his float, 

 which was probabl}^ going round and round in an 

 eddy, while his winch hung prepared to call him when 

 the big fish which he expected took his hook. 



Ted must be given credit that while his anxiety 

 to please the ladies was manifested in so many ways, 

 particularly by his studiously careful get-up, he was 

 equally lavish in his expenditure of time and money 



