A TALE OF A MIXED BAG 117 



preceding night, while the easterly breeze that came in 

 from the North Sea had a decided nip about it. 



Tommy, the bailiff's ten-year-old son, accompanied 

 us, the youngster having begged hard to be allowed to 

 play the part of gillie. Our youthful guide piloted us 

 across a series of narrow and particularly slippery planks, 

 spanning the dykes which intersect and drain the marshes, 

 until we arrived at a part of the fleet almost devoid of 

 reeds. We now asked Tommy, who, by the way, was a 

 very bright little chap, whether the fleet held any other 

 kinds of fish beyond pike and eels. '' No, maisters," 

 replied he, " but there used to be a wonderful lot o' ode 

 red fins [probably roach or rudd] and Proosian carpses 

 until two or three year ago, when a lot of Lunnun blokes 

 come down and netted every diddy one on 'em very 

 nigh." 



Having put the rods and tackle together we commenced 

 operations, the parson electing to work towards the head 

 of the fleet, while I fished the remaining stretch of water. 



Although considerably more than a mile in length, 

 the fleet is in no part of greater breadth than sixty yards, 

 and I do not believe that the water was six feet deep 

 in any part. 



Though somewhat overgrown with plantains and 

 other aquatic plants, there were plenty of open spaces 

 on the fleet for spinning. At my very first cast into the 

 centre of the water the spoon was seized almost before it 

 had sunk below the surface, and from the manner in 

 which the Hue ran out I knew that I was into a fairly 



