28 ON SURREY HILLS. 



"You ain't to use no live bait — master don't 'low 

 it; 'sidders as it's torturin' little fishes." In vain 

 to tell the man the baits you intend to spin with 

 are dead ones. "No," says he, "master want hev 

 it." On one of these occasions, after considerable 

 grumbling, I threw my box of dead baits, packed 

 in bran, over as far as I could throw, to my com- 

 panion, who was in the alder swamps close at hand, 

 and then produced a large bag of fine dew-worms. 

 " Ah, you ken catch all ye ken with them 'ere worms,'' 

 the man said on leaving me. 



I caught some good roach and perch with worms, 

 and then sat down to my lunch. Just as I was 

 beginning to eat, the same man who had given me 

 that unwelcome piece of information strolled down 

 to see if I was having any luck. With a rueful 

 grimace I pointed to one or two roach and perch. 

 Then I earnestly pressed him to accept a good 

 wedge of veal and ham pie, and to imbibe a re- 

 puted quart of Bass's best bitter. This he did to 

 his own perfect satisfaction and to mine also, for 

 under its mellowing influence he informed me that 

 his master had gone out and would not be back 



