DAYS AT DRIFFIELD 139 



tion in the number offish, and in evidence it is argued 

 that a great basket of twenty is now accomplished 

 scarcely once in a season. But that is not valid argu- 

 ment : in these times a ten-brace day is obviously too 

 good to be true. Whatever changes may have taken 

 place at Driffield, one can still catch as many trout 

 there as are good for one, and more than one could in 

 most places. The fish are difficult enough to be 

 interesting, but not beyond the resources of hard work 

 and patience and the essential thing luck. 



Of this last I have had my share. Twice I have had 

 really good days, and known the satisfaction of a heavy 

 creel. The first began on the Sunderlandwick stream 

 mentioned earlier, one of the two branches which join 

 a little below Dawson's mill, and, joining, form the beck 

 proper. But the beginning was a bad one. The whole 

 morning had been spent in trying to cover trout which 

 rose fitfully at trifles, but were so wild that they would 

 not wait for the most careful approach ; i p.m. arrived, 

 and not one had been risen, much less hooked. About 

 half-past a hatch of light-coloured duns began, and the 

 fish began to take them, though scarcely with enthu- 

 siasm. For some time the appearance of the fly seemed 

 to effect no improvement. Three or four good trout 

 rising on a quick shallow obstinately refused to look at 

 anything. 



On the next shallow, however, matters brightened, 

 and a handsome fish of one pound seven ounces came 

 to the net, having taken a oo ginger quill with a rush. 

 The very next cast secured another two ounces heavier, 

 and life seemed worth living again. " One more fish 

 before lunch," was the rather rash resolution then made, 



