ON THE THAMES. 315 
he is to have tried to swallow a fish half his own size. 
Let’s put him on a flight of hooks, and use him as a 
bait for his larger brethren, for if there’s a bait better 
than another for a big jack it is a little jack ; or no, on 
second thoughts let’s mark him and turn him in again.” 
Accordingly I marked him by a process which I be- 
lieve will be effective, and, if so, of very great use to 
salmon-breeders. “Harris, should you know this 
fellow again now he’s marked?” “Certainly, sir.” 
““fery well, then, here he goes into the water again ; 
and look you, if ever you catch him, he’s my fish. Re- 
collect the date of marking is June 1st. But now let’s 
be off down stream. Oh, bother, there goes a punt 
before us, spinning all the way.” “Never mind,” 
said P.; “I have got my new tackle on, and it’s 
painted green, so that the fish can’t see it. We are 
sure to have them.” “All right,” said I; “go on.” 
So we floated down the river, spinning and chatting 
and chaffing, for about half-a-mile. 
“ Did you not say something about green just now, 
friend P.?” “Yes, I said my tackle was green, and 
upon my word I think we are of the same colour as 
the tackle, for you've not had a run, and I’ve caught 
nothing but a dead dog, and had a good shot ata 
swan—the spawn-eating vagabond—with my flight of 
hooks. Oh, it’s not the fault of my tackle that we 
don’t catch fish, it’s the weather, of course it’s the 
weather,—isn’t it, Harris?” “Yes, sir,” said Harris ; 
