104 LINES IN PLEASANT PLACES 



spring morning to the waterside, the angler beholds 

 this fine specimen to great advantage by the eye of 

 faith. His step quickens as, in all its magnificent pro- 

 portions, it flashes before his inner vision. Saw you 

 ever such brilliant vesture, such resplendent fins ? By 

 the time the sanguine sportsman has clambered over 

 the rails in the third meadow, the line of hope has run 

 out from the winch of imagination, and he has mentally 

 struck that trout, played it, brought it to the rim of 

 the net, played it yet again, and finally, after a battle 

 heroic in its every detail, beheld it gracefully curved 

 in the friendly meshes, and transferred to a grassy 

 couch, to be the envy of his club and the boast of his 

 family, even to the third and fourth generation. This 

 also is a numerous species, for there is not a member 

 of the great army of Thames anglers who has not, in 

 this manner, seen specimens during the first three or 

 four hours of that day which witnesses the spiritless 

 return of the bearer of an empty basket. 



The third species of Thames trout is of a more sub- 

 stantial kind, and although as to its quality we may 

 allow ourselves to be as enthusiastic as the most hearty 

 of Thames trout worshippers, we dare not blink at the 

 cruel fact that, as to quantity, it ranks far below the 

 two other species to which I have so charitably and 

 gently referred. 



What it may be to-day I know not, but in my time 

 there was not a more likely spot than Boveney Weir 

 for one of these goodly Thames trout in the flesh. From 

 the sill over which the river churns into a splendid 

 mass of milky foam, past the island, and for a couple 

 of hundred yards down the water looks as much like 

 the correct thing as any reach can do. But even in 

 fishing matters, perhaps in them more especially, things 

 are not always what they seem, and, reduced to the 



