AN OLD RETAINER 



reach its hole and escape the gunner. Then the tall, 

 heavy-framed old fellow would bestir himself a little. 



A day's pike-fishing in a neighbouring lake or reser- 

 voir was always a red-letter day with Master Jessey. 

 He knew nothing of modern angling ; the gorge-hook 

 and live-bait were his methods. And as we lads drew 

 one of the gleaming, yellow-sided, white-bellied fish 

 exhausted to the punt-side, and finally landed it safely 

 at the bottom amongst our feet, there was always a 

 peculiar twinkle of satisfaction in his grey eye as he 

 took out his jack-knife, and, grasping the great fish 

 by the eyes with thumb and finger, deftly ended its 

 existence. 



He was fond of the angle, and loved on a fine July or 

 August day to lure lusty perch from deep, quiet waters 

 with hook and worm. But of all forms of recreation 

 that appealed to Master Jessey, one peculiar to his own 

 district had, I think, for him the greatest of joys. Be- 

 tween a certain old reservoir and a canal some miles 

 distant there ran through the rich pastures of that quiet 

 corner of Warwickshire a stream locally known as the 

 ''Feeder." This stream used in those days to swarm 

 with fish — perch, roach, gudgeon, and dace — and it was 

 the custom to net it at the bridges, and so capture a 

 great store of spoil. The big, sweet-fleshed perch, 

 scores of them over a pound weight, and the silvery, 

 delicious gudgeon, were in particular always welcome 

 at the house to which Master Jessey had attached him- 

 self. Armed with the net, two plunging poles, a 

 bucket or two, and the paraphernalia of lunch, we were 

 accustomed to accompany the old man once or twice in 

 a summer to the Feeder. Master Jessey disdained to 

 carry his luncheon ale in glass bottles ; he preferred in- 

 stead to fill up one of the old-fashioned wooden bottles 

 — then used for the field-labourers — with right home- 



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