30 AN ANGLER'S LINES. 



before nie^ The Field, I fancy, would have 

 been hard put to it to have recognised its 

 Angling Editor. Ke had been spinning a 

 smelt (his favourite style of fishing for pike), 

 but, like the patient angler in Happy Thoughts, 

 his reply was, " Nothing ! " Remarking that 

 perhaps a tramp round the meadow might help 

 him to realise that he still possessed those 

 portions of his anatomy known as feet, he pro- 

 ceeded on his way. Another live bait was dis- 

 patched on its errand and then came a wild 

 surging of hope as the water closed over my 

 sinking float. If the fish were the desired pike 

 he played very lightly, but I reassured myself 

 with the thought that at times this is no 

 criterion. I gathered him in, and returned 

 him. He may have weighed 20 oz.; I do not 

 know. My friend is needlessly emphatic that 

 he did not go sixteen, but that I attribute to 

 envy. The pike, however, is entitled to 

 notoriety for it was the only one I saw that 

 day. At five o'clock we ceased fishing; ten 

 minutes later it ceased snowing. It has been 



