308 



THE ANGLER'S SOUVENIR. 



made a rush at the bait when it was dangling close 

 by the side of the boat, and with the rod in an 

 upright position. Taken at such a disadvantage, 

 the rod snapped just below the top ferule, and the 

 pike got away. We walked two miles along a 

 dusty road and under a hot sun, and got the wood 

 taken out of the ferule and the rod roughly re- 

 paired at the village blacksmith's. Then, as the 

 breeze had fallen, and it was plaguey hot, we did 

 not go back to our fishing until the cool of the 

 evening, and then we fished until dusk without 

 seeing any further signs of fish. This was the 

 last straw that fairly broke my back. I was dis- 

 gusted with fishing, and vowed that I never would 

 fish again. I abandoned all my 'leaves' for the next 

 week in disgust, and spent the time in grumbling 

 at my ill-luck. 



A few days ago, having procured a new rod, I 

 was anxious to try it, so I went to a preserved 

 lake, and what especial form do you think my ill- 

 luck took this time ? Why, the fish were dead 

 and dying by thousands, the result apparently of 

 poisoning by some scoundrelly poacher. I left 

 there, and walked four miles to a pond where there 

 were a goodly number of jack, and found it so 

 overgrown with weeds that it was unfishable even 

 with a gorge-bait. Then I went to the river, and 

 found it so heavy in spate that it was useless to 

 try in it. 



The above are but specimens of my blank days 





