XX. TWYNKLES AND HIS FlRST BARBEL, HIS TRIUMPHAL 

 MARCH THEREWITH. 



YES, undoubtedly Twynkles was holding on, and in a 

 manner to put to confusion all preconceived ideas of Trent 

 anglers. The leather pouch or socket in which friendly 

 society banner poles when carried in a procession are placed 

 will be a familiar object to the eye of all Grimbarians, who by 

 the way, dearly love a procession, whether it be a funeral or 

 Band of Hope demonstration. Now Twynkles, forewarned 

 by Mr. Hopper of the monsters to be met with in the deep 

 and eddying pools of the Trent, had provided himself with one 

 of the leather sockets in question, and with the usual strap 

 appendage had girded himself therewith in readiness for 

 the fray. No sooner, therefore, did Twynkles have hold, 

 as he thought, of one of these monsters than he slipped 

 the butt end of his rod into the socket to the depth of 

 about 10 inches, and with the socket planted well in the 

 middle of his " corporation " he was in truth " holding 

 on." To the unpractised eye there was no tremulous move- 

 ment or " playing " of the top piece of his rod to betoken that 

 1 6 feet below the surface of the water Mr. Barbel had spread 

 out his huge forked tail like a fan, put his dorsal fin well up, 

 extended his anal fins, and ploughed his snout-shaped nose 

 into the bed of the river, or fixed his four beards or wattles upon 

 the weed at the bottom, so that he could not be moved from his 

 position; but Mr. Hopper's eye had noticed when Twynkles 

 " struck " that he had driven his hook home into one of these 

 powerful fish, and when Twynkles, being uncertain of having a 

 barbel or a sunken barge at the end of his- tackle, handed his 

 rod to Mr. Hopper "just to see what it was," he replied, " It's 

 a barbel sure enough, and look out for him bolting as soon as I 

 give you back your rod." This implement of destruction being 

 handed back, and the butt end deposited in leather socket 

 aforesaid, Twynkles put extra strain on and held on like grim 

 death ; but, singular to relate, the barbel would not move a peg 

 for at least five minutes, and then he went for a nice run, and 



