106 AN ANGLER AT LARGE 



and entered the water. In his hand he carried 

 a little spear. This he drove through the body 

 of a flounder, which he threw upon the bank, 

 and again, and yet again. Here was a worthy 

 sport indeed. But we had no spears. 



Necessity is the mother of purism. The trout- 

 fisher, having no worm, imagines the artificial fly. 

 The flounder-fisher, having no spear, imagines the 

 landing-net. To catch a flounder in a landing-net 

 is not so easy as it sounds. To begin with, your 

 flounder is a very fearful and crafty fish. He 

 is so fearful that he has made himself exactly like 

 the sand and weed on which he lives. It is there- 

 fore very difficult to find him, unless one has 

 exceptional eyesight like Master Peer Gynt. He 

 is so crafty, that when you disturb him by treading 

 about in the water he flits imperceptibly to a new 

 spot, where, with a single shiver of his body 

 a feat of leger-de-corps in which he has no equal 

 he covers himself with sand. His little horrid 

 eyes alone remain visible, and these he fastens 

 upon you with a cold stare, full of malevolence. 



The first step in puristic flounder-fishing must 

 now be taken, the hypnotism of the quarry. The 

 practitioner will fix his eyes on those of the 

 flounder, and will approach him cautiously from 

 behind. On reaching the flounder he will lower 

 his landing-net until it is upright in the water, 



