ON THE GLOUCESTERSHIRE COLN 187 



up, a four-pounder leading the way, two -pounders 

 respectfully in his wake. Judicious baiting got them 

 all into their accustomed places, and keenly expectant. 

 Then I said " Now," and immediately afterwards a 

 large coachman alighted above the four -pounder's 

 nose. He swirled at it and refused to take it, but 

 the next one came up greedily, and was well hooked. 

 The fight was nothing to speak of, for the trout was 

 not yet in condition, but it weighed two and a half 

 pounds, and decided the argument. Woodford returned 

 it to the water, and has been very much ashamed of 

 his feat ever since. Or it may be that he does not 

 like being worsted in controversy. 



It was, I think, the next day that we came in for 

 one of the finest hatches of fly and rises of fish that 

 I have ever seen in April. It was a pouring wet 

 morning with a bitterly cold wind, and I have no 

 doubt that I looked quite as miserable as Woodford. 

 He looked more miserable than anyone else on earth. 

 Then, on a sudden, at about half-past twelve, a very 

 big hatch of olives began, and almost before one could 

 realize it the fish were boiling all over the river as 

 if it were Mayfly time. The feast continued for about 

 an hour and a half, and then the fly stopped ; but 

 trout continued to rise here and there quietly for 

 quite two hours more. The fish were not yet in 

 condition, so we returned most of those caught, but 

 we kept about two brace apiece, and went home 

 exulting. Amid my memories of April fishing on 

 chalk -streams that day shines out very gloriously, 

 and Fairford shines with it. 



