210 FISHES AND FISHING. 



after I and my wife arrived at his house, I went with 

 his nephew to a river about a mile and a-half off, 

 where I was told there were trout, and I took my 

 disguised fly rod in my hand. The river appeared a 

 deep, sluggish stream, by no means the heau ideal of 

 a trout stream, but I was assured there were plenty 

 of that fish in it. We came to a bridge, and there 

 was a country lad, with a hazel rod, sometliing like a 

 cart whip, and a line about half as long again as the 

 rod, trying to throw a great nondescript fly to a 

 bubble, that every now and then was caused by the 

 lazy rising of a trout, but beyond his reach. This 

 Izaak Walton of the village, when we arrived, was 

 just giving it up as a futile attempt : I said, *' What, 

 are you going away, leaving that fellow to laugh 

 at you.'"' *' Noa, noa, zur, I'll ha'un to-morrow.'* 

 ♦' Oh," said I, " I'll have him to-night." '' Ho, ho !" 

 shouted the rustic. *' What, we' thic thing, thee's 

 breUa ?" *' Yes," I said, and proceeded to set up my 

 rod, placed on my winch, and prepare for action. I 

 put on a red palmer with a yellowish body, then gra- 

 dually got my line out to a level with where the fish 

 had risen ; he made another bubble, and by a quick 

 turn of my wrist my fly was on the spot, and he was 

 hooked in a moment, to the great astonishment of all 

 the yokels who were looking on. He weighed about 

 a pound and a half. 



