100 WATERSIDE SKETCHES. 



bombshells were first cast into the water five yards firom the 

 boat, the boatman observing — 



" You'll see a lark presently, guvnor." He then began 

 to make ready his tackle — long, heavy, rudely made rods, 

 coarse lines without winches, clumsily leaded gut hooks, 

 and seven or eight nasty little worms affixed en masse to 

 €ach hook, of which there were two to each line. 



"^^^ly don't you throw out?" I said, all being ready, 

 and looking out upon the dreadfully unruffled surface of 

 the broad river. 



" You hold hard, guvnor ; there'll be a lark presently," 

 he still replied, looking down the stream with a patient, 

 wistful gaze. 



"There they are," he said, by-and-by; "don't move, 

 guvnor. I know-the beggars, bless you— I told you so. You 

 keep still, guvnor." 



He now made a monster cigarette from a leaf of Brad- 

 shaw's Railway Guide (having forgotten to bring out his 

 pipe and tobacco), and watched what he had termed a 

 "lark" with a benign expression of countenance. It was 

 certainly amusing. Quite fifty yards down the river large 

 dark somethings splashed, twisted, and plunged upon the 

 surface of the water in hundreds, all advancing slowly to- 

 wards the point where we were stationed. This the boat- 

 man said was a favourite winter-home of the bream, and 

 his theory was that they had scuttled away in shoals at our 

 approach, and were now slowly returning in good skirmish- 

 ing order. Steadily the host advanced, the splashes and 

 backs of the fish appearing at intervals of four or five }ards. 

 The signs ceased when they should have appeared opposite 

 our boat, and this led the bream master to remark — 



