COARSE-FISHING MEMORIES 



by the frequent dip of the float. Fishing for carp and tench 

 is placid enough too, but it is apt to lack the interest of bites. 

 Unless you are lucky, you may spend days about the business 

 with nothing but the placidity and the charm of a somnolent 

 country-side to fill your mind. This should not happen with 

 bream if you have been canny about your ground-baiting and 

 do not mind early rising. Some of my most blissful memories 

 are of bream-fishing about daybreak. There was a sense of 

 adventure about it from the time when the alarum clock went 

 off in the darkest hour of night to the hour when I got home 

 weary and dishevelled to a second breakfast with people of 

 normal habits. The first breakfast, which usually consisted 

 of a slice of ham, bread and butter, and tea brewed on a spirit 

 lamp, was a queer business. If a teaspoon rattled against a 

 cup, the sound was dreadful in the silent house. I never quite 

 got rid of the idea that I might be taken for a burglar, or that 

 the faithful St. Bernards who slept in the hall might fail to 

 recognise me by candle light and do what they conceived to 

 be their duty by an intruder. I always had a sense of relief 

 when I was safely out into the garden, drinking in the sweet 

 morning air and noting the paling of the sky. 



The river at dawn was often shrouded in mist, which began 

 slowly to dissolve with the rising of the sun. Just before and 

 after sunrise on fine mornings this would produce wonderful 

 effects of opalescent light. It was worth while having sacri- 

 ficed sleep and having felt like a burglar to see the morning's 

 grey being shot with a rosy glow. The gradual physical change 

 from the chill of daybreak to the warmth of " sun-up " was 



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