THE CHUB. 49 



minious fate ; for he is a foeman worthy of a sportsman's 

 steel, although some writers speak with contempt of him, 

 and call him all sorts of names, some of which are libels on 

 him and his character. If I have a special weakness, it is 

 for " chub fishing," for I have been told that it really is a 

 weakness ; and one or two have gone further, and called me a 

 "fool," after I have had an adventure something like this. 

 I am standing by the river, rod in hand ; the twilight of the 

 summer's day has deepened into that semi-darkness that is 

 so peculiar in our country districts, where the air is free from 

 smoke ; strangely quiet seems Nature in her peaceful repose, 

 a strange quiet that is only broken by the harsh grating 

 croak of that peculiar bird the corncrake, or the splash of a 

 rising chub. Away in the distance I can see, though dimly, 

 the tip of a village church spire ; trees, bushes, and hedges 

 seem to merge indistinctly together, while the river flowing 

 past seems, on the opposite side, to be dark and mysterious. 

 Putting my hand carefully down my line and cast to feel if 

 my white moth is all right, I sweep it out into the river, 

 and wait, for I cannot see it. Ha ! a brave tug, and the next 

 moment a chub is gallantly fighting against odds for life 

 and liberty. In a few more minutes, however, he goes in 

 the bag to join some three or four more of his comrades in 

 distress taken by the same means. But hark ! what is 

 that ? The village church clock is striking, clear and distinct 

 through the stillness of the night sound the strokes 

 eleven ; time to pack up, thinks I, and trudge home, for I 

 am a few miles away ; and when I arrive there, I am called 

 by the before-mentioned classic name, " What a fool you are 

 to stay until this time of night, just for two or three brace 

 of those things ; ' (chub), is the observation ; but I can for- 

 give them, for they don't know of the sweet intercourse I 

 have had with Nature in her midsummer night's beauty. 

 None but sportsmen can enjoy these things as they ought to 

 be enjoyed ; and I am weak enough to say that fishing on a 

 summer's evening, with the moth for chub, is a sport, for me 

 at least, of the highest order. 



The chub is a member of the carp tribe, and his scientific 

 name is Cyprinus Cephalus. Izaak Walton used to call 



E 



