IN THE WEST COUNTRY E 
of the best fishers in these parts, but he’s in the 
Navy, now.” Afterwards he said, with great 
good-will, “There be ‘lovely fishing’ below the 
bridge, zur.” 
“Lovely fishing’”—what joy in the hearty 
statement, as compared with the languid “ not 
bad.” Iam reminded of the pedestrian, in the 
long ago, who lost a good ride through want of 
such heartiness. ‘Have a ride, neighbour ?” 
said a passing driver. Instead of a downright 
“Thank you,” the reply was an indifferent “I 
don’t mind.” With a prompt “No more do I,” 
the vehicle went on, leaving a wiser if sadder 
pedestrian behind. My young friend watched 
me for some time. A smaller trout was hooked, 
landed, and returned to the water. It pained the 
lad. ‘‘That trout was zeven inches, zur,” he 
remarked, If that was a keepable fish, I wondered 
what the maid at a Kennet hotel would have said 
to it. When, not without pride, I came back one 
July evening in 1916 with a fish of 1 lb. 7 oz., 
goodly to see and fat as butter, and asked for a 
plate to lay it on, she observed : ‘* Why, that’s only 
asmall trout for about here.” One lives and learns, 
Touching the size of the Barle trout, it may 
be noted that a day or two previously an angler 
had captured three weighing 23 ozs., and these 
were reckoned good-sized fish. The average 
appeared to be four or five to the pound. 
The blue upright continued to prove first 
favourite that mid-March week, and next perhaps 
came the half-stone, though the February red was 
