276 AN OPEN CREEL 



of its own, whether it be a mighty fabric of many arches 

 bearing a king's name and a venerable date, or a humble 

 log fitted with two uprights and a rough hand-rail. 

 There is, for example, the ancient stone bridge of two 

 big arches, below which is the Bridge Pool. Its char- 

 acter suffers somewhat from the fact that no man can 

 catch a salmon out of that pool, though they lie there 

 abundantly and leap like wanton kids. The stream 

 sets principally under the right-hand arch, and, running 

 askew into the pool, is lost in an immense sluggish 

 eddy. The fish lie in the curl of the eddy, and to reach 

 them you must cast straight across the stream, which 

 bags the line at once. No doubt that is why the 

 salmon are not caught. If you try to cast down and 

 across stream from the rough stones just below the 

 bridge, you switch out line by degrees, at last make a 

 colossal effort, and knock the point of your Durham 

 Ranger off against the stonework behind. He who has 

 experienced it may be believed. 



In contrast to this ancient piece is the dark, squat 

 railway-bridge on its massive iron pillars which be- 

 strides the deep, slow-flowing river of the Fens. Here 

 a man may moor his boat, fastening the painter to the 

 camp-sheathing, in certainty that this is the exact spot 

 where the three-pound perch ought to be, lying among 

 the weeds that grow in the slack behind each pier, and 

 darting out on the small fry that venture too close to 

 them. Whether the three-pounders really are there 

 the angler never discovers, and the thunder of an 

 express train just over his head is disconcerting ; but 

 the bridge has its charms for all that. Some counties 

 away there is another such bridge, where there are 



