8 EASTER FLY FISHING ON THE ITCHEN 



stiffish wind when I see any encouragement under 

 the opposite bank. And so I sauntered on down 

 to the pub. that place affords a somewhat sheltered 

 corner and there, knowing where a good trout 

 or two must certainly lie, whether on the feed or 

 not, I cast my Coachman over the spot, and to my 

 surprise, I may say my delight, a nice trout came 

 at me, and he came to grass. I threw again. 

 This time I allowed the fly to float down under a 

 barbed wire that crosses the stream (the Professor 

 knows it well), and there, two or three yards 

 below, one of those big fellows he wots of came 

 at me. I hooked him nicely, and I had to treat 

 him very gingerly, for it is no joke fishing under 

 barbed wire and dead against stream. He fought 

 like a true British trout (a rainbow trout couldn't 

 have fought better), and I gently manoeuvred 

 him up-stream for a long distance in fear and 

 trembling, for my boy was miles away with my 

 landing-net, peddling about among pink in a 

 carrier, never dreaming that I should do such an 

 unlikely thing as get hold of a fish. I had to 

 get him to a gravelly opening. All held well ; 

 and he came to grief, and to basket. He weighed 

 a pound and a half. Remembering my former 

 ill-luck, with which I had become slightly depressed, 

 I need not say I was now slightly elated. I fished 

 on lower down, and presently I caught another 

 trout nearly a pound. Then I heard "the band 

 play " in the village, two miles off, for the Easter 

 festivities were in full swing there, and then 



