TWO COLNE TROUT 301 



went straight into the depths ; but when the steady 

 strain brought him up to the surface, I could see that 

 I was mistaken. He was a pretty trout enough of two 

 and a quarter pounds, but not the one I wanted. I 

 therefore returned him, none the worse for the en- 

 counter. The big fish did not feed afterwards at any 

 rate, I neither moved nor saw him ; but that did not 

 really matter. My morning's presentiment was a true 

 one, and I returned to town in triumph. 



That fish is not the biggest I have had from the weir- 

 pool. Over my mantelpiece is a glass case containing the 

 trout the fish with which I endeavour to impress my 

 dry-fly and wet-fly friends who think that no good can 

 come out of the minnow. I don't suppose I shall ever 

 catch another like it, minnow or no minnow, but for 

 purposes of casual argument about sportsmanlike 

 practices it serves. A wave of the pipe-stem indicates 

 without need for boasting that " that is the sort of fish 

 we fellows catch when we spin." 



The catching of it, as of the other, was heralded by 

 a presentiment. It is odd how many of these pre- 

 sentiments the Colne, with its tempting nearness to 

 London, has aroused within me. It was one of 

 summer's hottest days, and London was wellnigh 

 unbearable, while the heap of books and papers on the 

 study table was simply an invitation to flight and 

 fishing. Finally a Bluebook about chemical manures 

 and kindred subjects settled the matter, and^grasping 

 what tackle came first to hand, I departed unosten- 

 tatiously to the station, whence a convenient train 

 soon bore me out into the country. It was tea-time 

 when I reached the keeper's cottage after a dusty walk* 



