THE ANGLER'S SOUVENIR. 



273 



I was on a visit some little time ago in one of 

 the western counties, and in the course of a picnic 

 excursion we came upon a lake embosomed in 

 woods, which at once took my fancy as the very 

 beau ideal of a pike-pool. It was surrounded with 

 reeds and rushes. Its shores curved in many a 

 quiet bay margined with lilies, where the coot and 

 the water-hen swam with a tameness and sense of 

 security which showed that they were not often 

 disturbed. A light breeze was rippling the pool, 

 and every now and then a rush of small fish out 

 of the pool showed where the pike were chasing 

 them. The remembrance of that pool quite haunted 

 me for a long time to come, and the desire to fish 

 in it was fanned by the tales which our host told 

 me of the wondrously large pike which were to 

 be caught there. It was strictly preserved, and 

 very seldom fished. Some time afterwards I acci- 

 dentally made the acquaintance of its owner. Wo 

 became good friends for the possession of this 

 pike-pool made him seem a very pleasant fellow 

 in my eyes. I cunningly led him up to the subject 

 of fishing, and to his pike-pool ; and the end of 

 it was that he invited me to spend a short time 

 with him at his house, and to help to kill some 

 of its large pike ; for he was an angler, only his 

 tastes ran upon salmon-fishing, and nothing pleased 

 him better than going to Norway. 



A clear dry frosty night in January saw me with 

 my legs under my friend's mahogany. We wero 



a 



