The Thames Trout Fisherman 1 1 1 



out the ghost of a nibble — and that should 

 be the test of a real Thames fisherman. 



After two fruitless hours the angler un- 

 moored his punt, and drifted down stream to 

 a fresh spot, where no doubt with the same 

 infinite patience he went through the same 

 series of operations. It was long past seven 

 o'clock then, and in the hour of the 'darkening 

 leaf the bat was already abroad. The little 

 party of four had packed up their tea-things, 

 and, unloosening their boat, which had only 

 been held by a strong thistle now brought 

 low to the water surface, glided away towards 

 Temple. In the oily-smooth backwater the 

 keel of the boat left a silver streak behind 

 it, which, to match the utter hastelessness of 

 nature, took whole minutes to fade away. 



There was scarcely an hour of light left 

 for angling. Yet no sooner had the patient 

 and unrewarded angler left his station than 

 three other enthusiasts came on the scene, 

 and lost not a minute in casting their baits 

 into precisely the same spot. There was 

 a chance that the trout — a ' ten-pounder,' 



