86 THE TROUT ARE RISING 



Lord Salisbury encamped on the eve of his 

 victorious fight at Blore Heath ; and on to 

 Buntingsdale, whose squire is an experienced 

 fly-fisherman. 



Stoke-on-Tern, a couple of miles further on, 

 was formerly the most peaceful of hamlets ; now 

 it has an aerodrome. The river winds to Crudg- 

 ington, Longden-on-Tern, and Walcot, by many 

 a peaceful home, and through rare meadows, and 

 flows on its unabated course, always gliding past, 

 yet never gone, always the same little river 

 (except when the great floods come), until it has 

 completed its business at Atcham, where it merges 

 its waters into those of the Severn, and so makes 

 for Bristol and the sea. 



As I have tried to show, the Tern is a good trout 

 stream and it holds some big fish here and there ; 

 I have met them once or twice, and the first was 

 that monster of my boyhood. It was a brief affair 

 though, all over in a few seconds. I was in a kind 

 of trance, conscious only of a big trout at the end of 

 a long line rolling about on the surface. But last 

 year, about thirty years later, and not far from the 

 same spot, I " had one on," and lost him. It was 

 in August, a little earlier in the evening than the 

 rise usually begins. I saw a heaving of the water 

 ahead, and I thought a cannibal trout was chasing 

 minnows. AYhen I came to the place I threw, the 

 fly fell, and, hey presto ! here, there, and every- 

 where was a trout dashing about. The rod was a 

 stout one, the tackle sound, so there was nothing 

 to fear on these scores ; but the weeds were heavy 



