THE YORE. 139 
sounded as he made a brilliant rush down stream, running 
off the line as he went. In manceuvres such as these a 
quarter of an hour soon passed, and then for the first time 
since the struggle commenced the captive fish began to show 
signs of weakness, rolling over and showing his silvery sides 
as my companion gradually led him to the shallow water, 
where I stood ready, gaff in hand. Not wishing to spoil 
the appearance of the fish, I try to insert it near to his 
gills, but not being quick enough to do so, he makes another 
rush out into deep water. Again he is drawn gently up, 
and this time, after making another unsuccessful effort to 
reach him with the gaff, I throw it on one side, seize the 
fish by the root of his tail with both hands, and ran him 
out, head foremost, on to the gravel, a splendid salmon of 
16lbs. weight. Great was our delight at such an auspicious 
commencement ; but angling is undoubtedly one of the 
mest uncertain of sports; for, although during the course 
of the day, my friend succeeded in rising other three good 
fish, fairly hooking one of them, the first was his only fish. 
On the other hand, I fished up to one o’clock and only 
basketed a solitary grayling ; but after an al fresco lunch, I 
had a reversal of fortune, and when hungry and tired I 
reached my inn at five o’clock in the evening, I had twenty 
fine grayling in my pannier. 
Halcyon days! from an angler’s point of view, how 
pleasant it is to recall them to one’s memory. Very many 
such have I spent on the banks of the stream that I love 
so well, and earnestly do I hope that many others are in 
store for me in the future. 
I have wandered, rod in hand, along the banks of the 
winding Wye, and thrown the mimic fly upon the crystal 
waters of the Dove, admiring meantime, the charming 
scenery of that lovely valley so dear to the memory of Isaac 
Walton, the father of all anglers. I have killed trout in 
the rocky streams of North Wales, and gazed on the glory 
K 
