48 WATERSIDE SKETCHES. 



the Thames multiplies with every season, and the pastime 

 itself is more generally followed, if not in its higher, in its 

 lower branches. The angling clubs in the metropolis 

 probably have a good deal to do with this addition to the 

 rank and file of anglers. As nearly as can be estimated 

 there are close upon two thousand members of fishing 

 associations in London, and half of them no doubt are 

 Thames anglers. A very few of the clubs are high-class and 

 wealthy; the rest are situated in poor localities, and supported 

 by poor members. It would be too much to expect from 

 the latter as high a standard of sportsmanship as you would 

 find in the former, but as a rule the humblest societies are 

 well ordered. When shall I forget the vision at Sunbury 

 of a gentleman belonging to a crack club ? I saw him in 

 lemon-coloured kid gloves, followed by an urchin carrying 

 his rod and basket. A stranger to the locality, anxious to 

 fish for anything he could get, politely asked him a question 

 or two as to where he might fish, and what his chances were 

 of sport, receiving in return a supercilious stare through an 

 eye-glass and a frigid 



" Can't say, I'm shaw." 



The stranger had his revenge afterwards. The gentleman 

 seated himself on a post at the head of the weir, and re- 

 mained there for three hours spinning, or rather allowing the 

 rush of water to spin, for a trout. He did not catch the 

 trout, but he fell headlong into the pool, and, besides being, 

 half-drowned, lost his rod and spoiled his gloves. 



The most courteous and genuine-hearted Waltonian I 

 ever met by the waterside was a Bloomsbury locksmith's 

 apprentice. I was stopping at Henley, and although I 

 never actually indulge in my favourite amusement on 



