SOME EJtfGLISH TEOFT STEEAMS 



should be best in a typical, ideal trout stream, possessing trans- 

 cendent beauties to charm the senses and lure the angler from 

 the mere killing. In nearly aU you may take trout ; but think 

 of the vistas and landscapes of the poet and artist that are to be 

 bagged on the Derwent, near Abraham's Tor, the Severn near 

 Arley, Bridgenorth or Cam. What ineffable charm there is in 

 the castellated effect of Haddon Hall as the Derwent ripples on 

 in Derbyshire. Then the Wye, with which I have a speaking 

 acquaintance, and know about from delightful correspond- 

 ence with Mr. Graham Clarke, who lives on it ; and whether 

 you see it in Breconshire, in the heart of a splendid rolling 

 country, embosomed in verdure, or sweeping by fair Boss in 

 Hertfordshire, where my friend Annan Uves ahd fishes, it 

 is always the same — ^beautiful, appealing and strong in its 

 personality. 



The Wye, I fancy, is a wild river, despite its pastoral views ; 

 that is, it belongs to the wild country, runs through regions given 

 over to wild Ufe. It comes rippling on, is joined by the Marteg 

 and Elan not far from Ehayader, and here becomes rushing, 

 impetuous, a real river, famous for its salmon. Of all the rivers 

 of England, it is probably the least defiled, and from near Eoss 

 it is a noble stream, with torrential fiow that stamps it as one of, 

 if not the finest river in England for the angler or lover of nature 

 where grand and beautiful scenery are entwined with the best 

 of salmon and trout fishing. 



What can be more charming than a sight of the Avon near 

 SaUsbuxy, a pastoral scene, or the Wiley at Stapleton ; and what 

 memories does the Itchen at St. Cross, Winchester, and St. 

 Catherine's Hill, conjure up of ancient worthies, honest anglers 

 and fervid love makers. The climax is reached in the Dove at 

 Dovedale, Derbyshire, where it creeps, deep in the verdure 

 between lofty cliffs, a veritable canon, and is lost in mysterious 

 valleys far beyond, in the land of dreams and fancy. And there 

 is the Eden, near Carlisle and the Eoman Wall, and as it flows 

 near Lazenby in Cumberland, one is enamoured of the beauties 



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