HUNTING FOR FISHING 99 



half an hour seemed to be swarming with chub, 

 great big fellows, soaring, as Izaak Walton says, 

 on the top of the water. I longed to be at 

 them, though I love them not. 



The Three Cocks is an old-fashioned inn half 

 a mile from the station, and musing, as I strolled 

 along the turnpike road towards it, on the odd- 

 ness of the title, I came upon the very hand- 

 some lodge and grand iron gate entrance to a 

 deer park. On the granite pillars were the 

 family arms rather rudely sculptured ; on the 

 central shield were a stag and two bulls, and on 

 the lower sinister panel were three superb cocks, 

 the motto underneath being Taurus gaudet in 

 silvis. Of course in these family arms will be 

 found the origin of the title given to the old inn 

 and the new railway station. 



Again I was told of a lovely trout and grayling 

 river twelve miles away, where fishing was free 

 and any amount of trout to be had for the 

 catching. On Monday, July 2ist, a bitterly 

 cold east-winderly day, we took this long drive, 

 and in an hour and a half we reached the Red 

 Lion. 



The landlord was in ecstasies, vowed the 

 river was swarming with rising trout, and we 



