HAMPSHIRE WATER MEADOWS. 145 



at a distance, London, Brockenhurst or 

 Southampton. 



A charm one hardly likes to dilate upon in 

 naked print is that Sunday fishing is not for- 

 bidden which means that a few of us, more 

 unprincipled and perhaps less scientific than the 

 others, are able to spend every hour of a week- 

 end out of doors; using all the tact we can to 

 avoid giving offence to church goers by getting 

 away across the public meadows before ten 

 o'clock and remaining as much out of evidence 

 as we can until seven in Spring, or until dusk 

 in the summer evenings. 



Curiously enough, although the river is in 

 many places not deep, wading is seldom or 

 never resorted to. The banks are mostly 

 unstable and fibrous, composed of chalky mud 

 overhanging runs and channels of two or three 

 feet deep into which I should be very sorry to 

 step for fear either of sinking waist-high or of 

 being carried bodily down stream. 



Shallow portions occur mostly in mid stream 

 where islands of waving weed or celery beds 

 afford secure cover for all the most cautious 

 trout. It is among the glittering openings 

 between these retreats that one looks for the rise 

 of a feeding fish. Having found it, plans must 

 be laid for approaching the bank behind the 

 rushes to a place from which one may hope to 

 cover the spot with an upstream cast. 



No straight forward approach or good long 

 cast avails for a fair sized fish. The sight or 

 shadow of a full length figure, the wave of the 



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