346 WHA T I HAVE SEEN WHILE FISHING 



years passed and the hale, hearty man still did 

 the journey from Putney to Wraysbury for a day's 

 fishing. Why need I speak of the journey ? It 

 was nothing to him at seventy ; he said nothing 

 of it ten years later, but some of us who knew 

 and respected him fancied his tackle was not so 

 fine and his rod not so long and tapering as it 

 used to be. 



The last time I saw the grand old man of eighty 

 years was as he stood close by here up to his 

 knees in snow, anxiously watching the float, which, 

 I had noticed, grew larger year by year. Yes, old 

 Mortimer is dead, and the Elms Swim is "To 

 be Let." 



Before us is a stretch of shallows where chub 

 and dace congregate to scour and where a trout 

 or two of small size are sometimes taken. 



On the opposite side is the meadow adjoining 

 Old Windsor Lock, where several good bank 

 swims can be found, but I would advise anglers 

 not to visit them in Winter, as a flush of water 

 makes them unfishable. 



Stretching across the river, just above the lock, 

 are the foundations of the old weir ; should you 

 desire to take a barbel in July they are scarcely 

 worth taking then bait well with greaves twelve 

 yards up stream, about two-thirds of the way across, 

 and you will soon be amongst them. Probably 

 you will find your take varied with other fish and 

 among them some good dace which are very fond 



