6 FISHING GOSSIP. 
the window or over the balcony: a scamper to the 
boathouse, a vigorous shove or two with the punt- 
pole, and in five minutes the ripecks are fast, and 
everything snug in the very perfection of a “pitch” 
—not that one out there over the shallows, for the 
sun will soon have done washing his face, and in an 
hour will blaze up dazzling enough for Pheton him- 
self—but the other under the island yonder, and just 
within the dip of the chestnuts, where you can see 
the “golden gravel,” as Tennyson calls it, about four 
feet below, and as bright as a new guinea. 
Splash! in goes the rake, leaded at the end like 
a constable’s staff that it may sink well out over the 
swim,—three minutes’ vigorous raking— another for 
comfortably shaking down into places, and you are 
about to set to work with a will, when you probably 
discover that Blanche has broken her line, or that 
Julia’s hook is off (it was yesterday !) But lines are 
not difficult to mend, and there are more hooks than 
one in the world, so everything is soon en régle, and 
at it you go. Ha! a bite the moment the float touches 
the water, bob—souse !—you have him,—so has Julia 
—(Blanche and Charley aren’t. baited yet)—two fish 
in two swims,—that looks well ; for if gudgeon don’t 
come on to bite at first, they often don’t do it at all. 
“ Julia, a pair of gloves on the first dozen?” “Done!” 
—and done you are, for Julia nobbles twelve unsus- 
pecting gobiones in as many swims, before you have 
