1 1 2 THE ANGLING CL UBS AND PRESER VA TION 



I have, thinking back upon such scenes, is this : How was it 

 that many a good angler, who must have shuddered with 

 indignation at the cruel, shameful waste of life, the pain 

 inflicted upon the hapless fish, escaped trial for man- 

 slaughter at the Old Bailey, consequent upon trying to 

 effect the death by drowning of one or other of the manly 

 and noble crew ? I know not. 



As to the practice of laying night lines, its results were 

 all too palpably apparent to him who reads by the wayside 

 as he runs. Many and many a grand Thames trout, the 

 pride and crown jewel of some deep reach, has met his 

 d2ath ignobly at the end of a night line, ostensibly laid 

 for the capture of eels. Then it was that the lucky captor 

 would knock his prize on the head, and straightway take 

 it up to the village house of a well-to-do and worthy 

 inhabitant, who had probably tried a round dozen of times 

 to effect his capture legitimately. Some such scene and 

 dialogue as this then followed : 



A trim and natty servant-maid appearing at the door, 

 honest old Bill Boozier, the hard and horny-handed, who 

 never told an untruth in his life, or pretended to bait a 

 barbel swim when he had not had a worm near his 

 premises for a month, rush basket in hand, thus addresses 

 her : 



" Mornin', Mary, my dear. Why, Lard a mussy, what 

 cheeks them is o' yourn, surelie. Redder 'n the best Ribson 

 pippen as I ever seen. Lard, ef I'd only bin a younger 

 man." 



" Go along with you ; a married man and all. You 

 oughter bin ashamed o' yourself," is naturally red-cheeked 

 Mary's retort. 



" Well, so 'tis, Mary. Mortal 'shamed of myself I is, and so 

 J don't deceive you. Muster Fubsy in? But, theer, I needn't 



