20 AN ANGLER'S LINES 



THE DUCK POND. 



^ J *' ve seen t ^ iem ^ere as long as 

 this," said the farmer to me, placing 

 the edge of his right hand on his left forearm, 

 midway between elbow and wrist. " I don't 

 know what you call them," he continued, " but 

 they're fish of some sort." 



Further questioning! as to shape and colour 

 failed to elicit anything more definite, and, in 

 order to satisfy myself as to their identity, I 

 proceeded to describe the appearance of perch, 

 roach, tench, and carp. The only result was to 

 complicate the matter horribly, for, according 

 to the farmer, his fish embraced individually 

 all the characteristics of those I mentioned ! 

 Then I gave it up. In my inmost self I was 

 sceptical of the existence of fish " as long as 

 this," in fact of fish at all, in the pond. Its 

 very look ridiculed the idea. Now, there are 

 ponds that invite the angler's notice and woo 



