i 4 THE STORY OF A BIRD LOVER 



and I know to-day (though I saw it only for a 

 few moments and was not quite ten years old) 

 that it was the Hudsonian curlew. 



We stayed a year in England, France, Switzer- 

 land, and Germany, visiting the great cities, 

 but I have no definite recollection of any 

 of the birds, nor that I was interested in them. 

 However, the sport of fishing fascinated me, 

 and though I did not catch anything, I fished 

 in a brook and some ponds in England. The 

 brook was near Chester, and the ponds were in 

 one of the " Commons " on the outside of London. 

 For many days, too, one after the other, along 

 the banks of the Seine in Paris, I joined a row 

 of fishing poles held by men in blue cotton 

 blouses, noisy with a lot of gabble I did not 

 understand. As I look back now, the number of 

 fish were in inverse ratio to the sportsmen. I 

 know I did not catch any. I fished also at 

 Schaffhausen, in Switzerland. The details con- 

 nected with the sport there and in Paris are clear, 

 the kind of bait, and how, in the latter place, 

 the fishermen enveloped it in mud, presum- 

 ably thinking that, as the mud was washed 

 away, the lure would appear more natural. 

 At Schaffhausen a kind of sow-bug was used, 

 and together with the one on the hook, a 

 handful were thrown into the water in the 

 hope that the fish might pick up (as was ex- 



