CHAPTER IV 



" Tis not that rural sports alone invite, 

 But all the grateful country breathes delight." 



Courting the Queen of Fishes A Disappointment 



I KNOW no river with such never-ending pictures of 

 delight nor one so full of surprises at every turn, in 

 all seasons, as the Thames. You cannot catch it out 

 of tune. Its rich alluvial soil has given birth to a 

 wealth of meadow flowers and an endless variety of 

 trees, bushes and brambles, scattered in a higgledy- 

 piggledy fashion that has more art to please than 

 the most artful man could plan. 



Thames trout fishers have time to spare for what 

 the meadows have to show and to listen to the voices 

 that tell again of boyhood's days and I know no sport 

 of which it can be so truly said that its votaries need 

 a love of country sights and sounds. 



One of the cleverest and most persistent Thames 

 trout fishers I know has not taken a fish that he 

 would keep for the past two seasons, and yet he goes 

 on trying ; and so have I done, although until this 

 season I had fished in vain as long as he. There 

 is a fascination in striving for a trout, whose size is 

 equal to your dearest wish, that has allured you back 

 to his haunt, time after time, by occasionally showing 

 himself and sometimes playing tricks with your bait 

 that have stiffened your joints for the tussle you 

 thought imminent. 



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