114 DAYS AMONG THE PIKE AND PERCH 



in that stretch of water fronting Kelham Hall, just where 

 some old timbers out in the stream form an eddy. That 

 day, one of the most enjoyable I ever had, was not by any 

 means a day of a huge bag, five fish only, but they weighed 

 forty-one pounds. 



The pheasants in the park were uttering their harsh 

 cries, a hare was loping slowly across the meadow, and a 

 countryman guessed we should have a hard and long 

 winter that year, as flocks of redwings were even then busy 

 in the hedgerows, while a few storm-cocks, as he called 

 the missel-thrushes, were about. And as if to put em- 

 phasis on his remarks, he pointed with a triumphant finger 

 at a small flock of wild duck that wheeled and circled, rose 

 and fell, then rose again in a rapid whirr, and finally 

 dropped into a quiet lagoon some half-mile higher up 

 the river as we shouldered the fish, and carried them to 

 the rector's waiting trap. 



