AND HOW I HAVE CAUGHT MY FISH 59 



of dead leaves ; so I got to the inn with only one in 

 my bag. My friend and I were directed to a wash- 

 house at the rear for our clean, and, while I was 

 busy rubbing my face with my soapy hands, I heard 

 a boy's voice cry, " Mother, mother ! the old sow is 

 running away with the gentleman's bag." I was 

 soon at the front and in full chase of the thief, 

 which was lightening her load by occasional drop- 

 pings first a winch, then a case of spinners, and 

 then my box of sinkers, but never loosening her 

 hold of the fish. A stern race always seems a long 

 one, and a race after a pig while your eyes are 

 smarting with good, old-fashioned, strong-smelling 

 brown Windsor soap is a fit punishment for a man 

 who begins his day as I did. 



Who that has the love of sport in him has not 

 been moved by his belief in the wonderful resources 

 of the inexhaustible sea ? Who knows what his 

 next tussle may be with ? It may be that by my 

 carelessness of the morning I had lost a sea bass, a 

 fish whose ferocious energy may be compared to the 

 wild salmon, to whom the pain of the hook is a 

 reminder of the seal-made gash, and who fights 

 again as he has fought before. The careful angler 

 set all doubts at rest respecting his fish by success- 

 fully bringing to boat a splendid pollack ; but the 

 careless, fascinated dreamer had only his bleeding 

 finger, tangled line, and wonderment about the fish 

 that had played such havoc. 



The splendour of the morning was followed by 



