The Fishing Day. 18 1 



ana another, soon succeeds. As we proceed down the stream, the lock- 

 pound, the head of the staunch, the mill-tail, are all successively tried, 

 and each yields something to help to fill the creels j but the fish of the 

 day, a perch of two and a half pounds, is taken by our veteran 

 friend, with a paternoster, in a deep hole against one of the piles of 

 the old wooden footbridge that crosses the backwater. 



The sun has all the morning been obscured by clouds, and, as the 

 fish have all been well on the feed, by twelve each creel holds its 

 share. But the evening's sport has yet to come. We now cross 

 the river in the punt, to the osier holt on the opposite side, where 

 we propose to lunch in the shade, screened from the oppressive rays 

 of the mid-day sun, which has now found its way through the 

 clouds. The creels are emptied, fresh flags put into each, the fish 

 carefully repacked, and laid in the shade till lunch is over. The 

 minnow-cans are sunk, the provisions are spread out upon the grass j 

 and, as ceremony is unlocked for on an occasion like the present, 

 each man for himself. Thanks to the provider of the feast, no one 

 can grumble at either quality or quantity the bottled ale, which 

 has been sunk in the river all the morning, is excellent, and no one 

 finds fault with either the cold pigeon-pie or the lamb salad. Not a 

 breath of air is now stirring j the cattle stand lazily up .to their knees 

 in the shallow ford a little way down the stream j the haymakers 

 have left their work in the meadows, and are now seated under the 

 tall hedge-row, resting from their toil, during the heat of the day ; 

 and as the fish are now altogether off their feed, the margin of the 

 stream is as smooth as glass. 



But hark ! a hail from the opposite bank, and the jolly miller 

 calls to us to bring the punt across. As he says, we can have no 

 fishing for an hour or so, but if we will come up to the mill and 

 smoke a pipe, he promises us that he will stop the wheel in the 

 evening, when we shall be sure to have some rare sport, both in 

 the head and tail water. This is too good an invitation to be refused, 

 more especially as the miller is "one of us," although his line lies 

 more among the bow-nets and eel-traps. A rare evening's sport 



