18 AN ANGLER AT LARGE 



is shut into outer darkness by paralysis. To an 

 angler the river beloved is really like nothing 

 else. 



And when he is by when, that is, we are by 

 by him what good times we have! How we 

 vary the sport ! His population, I have said, 

 is always rising. Each of those dimples is made 

 by a fish that one has risen, played, and landed. 

 And this is the peculiar advantage of the 

 situation always those fishes are ready to be 

 risen, played, and landed again. No day, not 

 even memory's, is. long enough to grass the fishes 

 of five seasons. So one picks and one chooses, 

 taking one here, one there, passing others by, 

 reserving them for other occasions. They will 

 not desert their places. 



Does our pleasure demand a rise of Mayfly ? 

 What fishing we can cram into a couple of hours ! 

 Thirty trout, and the balance dips to 70 Ib. And 

 we might have done still better, but this is enough 

 for good sportsmen such as we and the river are. 

 Or do we feel that a clear October day would be 

 well spent among the grayling? It is at our 

 service. The woods are bravely decked out in 

 honour of the occasion. The sun is warm ; the 

 air is cold. The fish rise foolishly, and our take is 

 colossal. Especially in the long deeps of the Still 

 Reach do the great head-and-tailers break the 



