MEMORIES OF MAHSEER 



knowledge of this habit, which he long kept to himself, that 

 a friend of mine used to make sensational catches of mahseer 

 such as turned his brother-fishermen green with envy, his 

 record including over a ton within a month, while on his best 

 day he caught 446 pounds' weight of fish. 



There is another advantage which the premier fish of India 

 has over the salmon, and that is that it is never out of season. 

 Owing in all probability to a habit of spawning at various times 

 of year, there are no sluggish autumn fish and no kelts. On 

 the other hand, it is only fair to say that, though eatable soon 

 after capture by sportsmen with a healthy appetite, the 

 mahseer does not compare in this respect with a fresh salmon, 

 though in appearance it suffers little by comparison. We 

 must, however, substitute the larger head and tail, and in place 

 of the beautiful silver of the salmon, suggestive of its stay in 

 the sea, the mahseer's hue is a burnished gold, singularly in 

 keeping with the clear water and fierce sun of its natural 

 haunts. 



As I sit over the fire and let my thoughts go back to the 

 pleasant days spent with my old Ringal rod on one or other 

 of the great northern rivers — Ganges, Jumna, Chenab, Beas, 

 or Jhelum — how the memories crowd, and what a remembering 

 of happier things ! True, as recalled haphazard, my experi- 

 ences seem to have been singularly free from sensational epi- 

 sodes, yet they are probably the more typical on that account. 

 These reminiscences seem to centre chiefly round Sialkot, 

 in the north Punjab, where my regiment arrived, one memor- 

 able day in 1890, for a three years' spell. I was glad enough 



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