FAILURES AND SUCCESSES 



One day, when I was driving up the valley to Trondhjem, I 

 stopped at the Skyds station at Gjora, and there, on the step, 

 lay the ugliest red kipper I ever remember seeing, with a hook 

 projecting from its lower jaw that might almost have been a 

 gaff. Yet this monstrosity, which weighed over 45 lb. even 

 then, must have exceeded 50 lb. when first it entered the fresh 

 water in perfect condition ; and, ugly as it was, I could have 

 kissed its repulsive mouth if only the fish had been my own ! 

 I fancy it had fallen a victim to the fascinations of the prawn, 

 a lure that I have never persuaded myself to use, not from any 

 narrow-minded objection to bait-fishing, but rather because 

 being a hide-bound Tory in matters sporting, I am too lazy 

 to change my methods and master a new art. In vain I ex- 

 plored the deepest pools with big Wilkinsons ; again, some- 

 thing about twenty pounds was the limit that I reached pretty 

 frequently. There are times when I recall the last minute of 

 the last day of my second year at Hvilested as having all but 

 given me my heart's desire, for the fish that I hooked in the 

 pool just above the bridge, immediately beneath the terrace 

 in front of the house, certainly behaved like a veteran, and 

 sulked with a pertinacity which defied all the strain I was able 

 to put upon it. A gallery had gathered overhead to watch the 

 fray, which, to me at any rate, was particularly exciting, since 

 on the issue of it depended whether my bag of salmon for the 

 season would equal the fifty I had caught the preceding year. 

 Alas ! the fly came away, the gallery dispersed, and I retired 

 discomfited, leaving the record fish, as I still, though upon very 

 imperfect evidence, believe it to have been, safe for another year. 



79 



