IN PRAISE OF CHUB 207 



a small cunning tail of white kid ; go warily along the 

 bank with eye alert for a dark form under yon clay 

 bank, in that little round hole among the lilies, beneath 

 that tree, above that old log anywhere, in fact, where 

 a worthy fish may combine ease with dignity and, 

 possibly, nutriment. Having found him, pitch your 

 fly at him with as much tumult as you please ; if he 

 does not see you or the rod, two to one he will rise. 

 If he does see you he is gone, and herein lies most 

 of the fascination of it. A stiff neck and a proud 

 stomach are of no use to the chub-fisher, who must 

 stoop if he wishes to conquer. 



With good luck you should catch a three-pounder, 

 among others, with very good luck a four-pounder. 

 Those who are what Horace Walpole, I believe, called 

 serendipitous catch a five-pounder now and again. 

 The favoured of the gods get a six-pounder once in 

 their lives. And one or two anglers, for whose benefit 

 the whole cosmic scheme has evidently been arranged, 

 have killed a seven-pounder. But this last prodigy 

 does not, I fancy, reward fly-fishing, though I once 

 but the memory is too bitter to be evoked. Cheese 

 paste is the thing for seven-pounders if you know of 

 any such, and you can put a piece on the hook of your 

 fly if you like. But you cannot throw it very far, the 

 fishing is difficult, and I much doubt whether they are 

 seven-pounders. Your basking chub is so imposing 

 that one's estimate of his ounces is insensibly coloured 

 by awe. I have ever been curious to know how big 

 was the chub which Walton and his pupil gave to 

 Maudlin the milkmaid. The only indication vouch- 

 safed to us is that it was "just such another" as the 



