IN PRAISE OF CHUB 209 



tion of sunshine and cloud were far more suggestive 

 of spring than of summer. It would have been an 

 excellent day for trout, but it hardly promised great 

 sport with chub. Still, the fortnight of August that 

 had preceded this April day had provided no chub 

 weather worth mentioning. What sun there had been 

 was of pale and watery complexion, with great cloud- 

 banks hovering near, ready to obscure him if he showed 

 any sign of cheerfulness at all. The wind also had 

 been cold and violent, and fly-fishing had been a 

 mockery. 



The April day, therefore, was at least an improve- 

 ment, and the split-cane rod was put together with 

 more cheerfulness of spirit. It would not be a case of 

 stalking fish scientifically, for they would hardly be on 

 the surface ; but there was a chance that a big fly 

 thrown into likely spots might bring up a brace or two 

 of decent chub, and give the angler something to show 

 for his pains. In these incredulous days it is sadly 

 necessary to have something to show, and I was 

 growing a little tired of explaining to the lay mind 

 that success cannot be commanded when the weather 

 is unpropitious. Besides, it is thankless work giving 

 explanations that are obviously misunderstood. Accord- 

 ingly I was resolute to catch something when I reached 

 the bridge that spanned the Thames here a mere 

 infant river with two small arches. 



Under the bridge the stream rippled in a manner 

 provokingly suggestive of trout ; but though there is 

 much water that might well hold a head of fario in the 

 topmost reaches of the river, the head of fario is con- 

 spicuously wanting. A trout has occasionally been 



