THE ANGLER AND THE BRIDGE 277 



undoubtedly three-pound perch. Just below it, too, is 

 a small patch of gravel close to the bank, on which in 

 Mayfly time may sometimes be seen an enormous 

 trout a ten-pounder probably. And under the far 

 side, where one cannot fish, lives some monster which 

 moves about at dusk like a submarine boat. Possibly 

 it is a pike, but its identity is less clear than its impor- 

 tance in helping to make the bridge a place of mys- 

 terious fascination. 



These are all rather big bridges, but there are bigger 

 still, as the great one across Tweed, from whose top 

 you may in clear water see the shoal of salmon lying 

 in the stream below. If you are lucky you may see one 

 of them come up and seize the Wilkinson, which the 

 angler, standing at the base of the pier on the English 

 side, has just offered to it ; if you are very lucky you 

 may be that angler yourself, and then you will always 

 think kindly of the bridge. But in casting beware of 

 the bents behind; they are malicious and they are 

 tough, as a permanent kink in a favourite old green- 

 heart can testify. Another great bridge spans Severn, 

 within sight of Malvern's hills, where also are salmon, 

 but not a kindly race for the angler, whose lures they 

 utterly despise. The diversion here was, on hot days, 

 to dap for chub with a bluebottle. The angler was so 

 far above them that they paid no attention to him, and 

 cheerfully gulped in the fly. Often the^strike failed of 

 its effect, for the distance deceived the eye ; often the 

 fish, hooked and played to exhaustion, dangled awhile 

 in the air, and fell back with a splash. It needs stout 

 tackle and some management to pull a lusty chub up 

 on to a high bridge. 



