FLY-FISHING IN THE LUGG. 13 



well painted and in excellent order, and 

 doubtless is still faithfully preserved as a 

 lasting record of a famous battle. 



I began fishing just above the old bridge 

 at Mortimer's Cross, and I fished up to 

 Aymestry. It rained some of the time, and 

 all the time it was wet and sloppy in the 

 long grass of the aftermath, and of the mea- 

 dows still umnown. We reached Aymestry 

 wet-footed and tired, but not a fish had we 

 seen not a single rise afforded us any en- 

 couragement. This, however, did not much 

 matter, for is it not pleasure enough for a 

 smoke-dried Londoner to ramble along that 

 lovely vale of Aymestry, even in wet and 

 windy weather ? 



Here the Lugg lingers through its plea- 

 santest scenes, winding its way amongst hazel 

 and alder bushes, underneath the Pokehouse 

 Wood, which, on the opposite side, rises 

 abruptly for many hundreds of feet above, 

 and from within a few yards of its margin. 

 That leafy wood on one side, the low-lying 

 meadows and undulating corn-cropped hills 

 on the other, with the grey tower of Aymestry 

 old church in front of us, form as pretty a 

 variety of scenery as one might wish to see. 

 Hereabouts, for the most part, the Lugg 

 runs deep and slow, but with such trans- 





