EXPERIENCES & REMINISCENCES. 117 



craft immensely improved upon, but the instinct of fish greatly 

 developed, with the result that they have become most " canny." 

 Angling is no modern pastime : it flourished quite in the early 

 ages, for one of the earliest Greek poets tells us 



" Of beetling rocks that overhang the flood, 

 Where silent anglers cast insidious food, 

 With fraudful care await the finny prize, 

 And sudden lift it quivering to the skies." 



It would appear therefore that "ground baiting" was 

 practised even in those days, but the modern angler, unless 

 quite a novice or tyro, would scarcely try to manipulate his 

 4lbs. bream or barbel into the embrace of an adjoining tree, or 

 make use of the adjoining meadow for depositing therein his 

 catch. One angler only "of that ilk " does Mr. Hopper know, 

 and he rejoiceth in the name of "Twynkles." Yes, he can 

 "yuck" with a vengeance, and still he thinketh he hath a 

 " gentle touch." And yet one just one more ancient bit of 

 poetry 



" A bite ! hurrah ! the length'ning line extends, 

 Above the tugging fish the arch'd reed bends, 

 He struggles hard and noble sport will yield 

 My liege, ere wearied out he quits the field." 



Mr. Hopper went to Trent-side full early this year, being 

 induced thereto by considerations of health. It was the 

 second week in July when he sought the familiar river-side 

 quite three weeks too early for barbel but he hoped that he 

 would have a fair time amongst carp bream, and in that 

 respect his expectations were realised, as although they never 

 came really "on," as sometimes they will do on the Trent, 

 still Mr. Hopper caught some fair baskets, his largest bream 

 being 4ilbs. The weather proved very unsettled, the wind 

 blowing great guns most of the time, and if there happened to be 

 a lull in that respect for a day or two, a real good old-fashioned 

 thunderstorm filled up the gap, and, needless to say, a heavy 

 downpour of rain accompanied these electric disturbances. 

 The result was that Mr. Hopper was only just settling down 

 to his visit when the storm water from the Derbyshire and 

 Staffordshire rivers and hills came down, and quickly put a 

 rise of three feet above the ordinary summer level of the 

 Trent. The spring tides also began to put in pretty heavily, 



