WITH VERDANT ALDERS CROWN'D 73 



favourable as if they had been made to order. There 

 were plenty of bait and a boat at our disposal. 



My kind friend pointed with a warm smile to a snug 

 hamper in the carriage. The world under these circum- 

 stances looked fair. We noticed the yellow mottlings 

 of autumnal decay on the chestnut trees and elms, the 

 ruddier shade of the beeches ; we discussed the failure 

 of the blackberry crop, and pretended to knowledge 

 about turnips. Thus, interchanging thoughts, we 

 arrived at the Loddon, to find a deep, dirty brown 

 colour. The world then was not so fair. It was a 

 miserable disappointment, in short, and we had to 

 make the best of it. We found a few jack by trolling 

 in the eddies close to the bank, but the day was to all 

 intents and purposes a blank. 



In the afternoon my friend pulled me upstream that 

 I might find quiet corners and the very off-chance of 

 a jack. At one part there was a break in my friends, 

 the alders, and a scoop in the bank where the water 

 was deep. Discreetly and naturally I dropped the 

 dead bait, and on the instant it was grabbed and 

 worried. My first impression was that it was a perch. 

 I have known a big perch seize a large bait and shake 

 it in that dog-like fashion, and that impression was 

 confirmed when, instead of the strong run of a straight- 

 forward jack, the seizure was followed by jerky move- 

 ments and very little running out of line. It was no 

 more than I expected that the bait should be by and 

 by impudently deserted. Its head I found to have 

 been savagely bitten half through. From the size of 

 the semi-circular gash the chub or perch, whatever it 

 might happen to be, was no youngster. 



Upon reflection, and upon re-examination of the 

 wound, my friend, who was an experienced Loddon 

 angler, agreed with me that the fish was a chub. The 



