54 CHATS ON ANGLING. 



Twas in the lower reaches of such a stream, not many miles from 

 Bassenthwaite Water, that a certain number of leviathan cannibals had 

 taken up their station. The stream was so tortuous and overhung 

 that no boat could be manoeuvred through it, and a carefully constructed 

 raft, with anchor astern, had been tried and come to signal grief, pitching 

 its unfortunate occupant unceremoniously into an unsolicited cold bath, 

 from which he emerged with some difficulty. We then decided that 

 it was impracticable for fishing purposes of the ordinary kind. 



Walking home along this bush-covered length we could see the 

 fish clearly in its waters, calculate their weight, and wonder how their 

 natural fortifications could be sapped and overcome. We nicknamed 

 all the fish, so constant and regular were they in their places. One, 

 an ugly, ill-shapen fish, with a heavy head, was called " Bradlaugh " ; 

 another veteran, solemn and heavy, was dubbed "Gladstone"; a third, 

 more dashing and combative, we christened " Randolph Churchill." 

 There were about seven that we knew and named, and to the heaviest 

 and thickest of all we gave the name of " Lord Salisbury." 



It was a constant source of interest to us, in going up and down 

 the stream, to note what our named friends were doing and how they 

 were faring. Notes were compared when we came in after fishing, and 

 they gradually became an integral portion of our life and party. One 

 evening I noticed " Randolph Churchill " greatly on the move, darting 

 hither and thither in quest of some article of food. Peering through 

 the bushes, I made out that he was taking something that was falling 

 from the trees and bushes above, but what that something was I could 

 not precisely make out. A poor bumble bee that had fallen into the 

 stream was buzzing about, trying to free himself from his watery toils, 

 and floating slowly over " Churchill " ; the latter came up to look at 

 the buzzer, and then bolted as if he had been shot. Evidently that 

 disturbed even his equanimity. I had contemplated dapping with a 

 palmer or Marlow buzz ; and I sat down to cogitate. I called to 

 mind the incident, referred to on page 50, of the bold rises of the 

 trout in Loch Dhu at the swarm of bees crossing its surface. Whilst 

 trying to reconcile their action with that of " Churchill " I was reclining 

 on the grass, and happened to espy a green grasshopper. That might 

 do, thought I, and rising, with the captured insect in my fingers, I 



