72 AN ANGLER'S LINES. 



Nothing appealed to them, and to add to my 

 discomfiture, a fitful wind, at times greatly 

 disturbing the water, had sprung up, making 

 it exceedingly difficult to detect bites. During 

 the tedium of waiting, my attention was fully 

 occupied with wasps. In fact, they were all 

 over me. They swarmed up my rod, settled 

 on my jacket, disputed my right to the bait, 

 and when, at length, I did succeed in obtain- 

 ing a 9 oz. roach, their interest in the event 

 was unbounded. But we settled our differences 

 of opinion in an amicable manner, and I am 

 still able to say that I have never known the 

 sting of a wasp. 



A passing barge now stirred up the 

 bottom, and, shortly after, my float gave a 

 perceptible quiver, then lay flat on the water 

 and was gently drawn beneath the surface. 

 The result was a roach of 13 oz. Another 

 followed about the same size, but any un- 

 seemly exhilaration on my part was speedily 

 checked by a return to the status quo ante. 

 I looked at my watch and found it had taken 

 me four hours to catch three roach ! 



