PIKE-FISHING. 1 6s 



chrysanthemums have brilliantly brought up the rear of the 

 year's floral march, the first fire has been kindled at home, 

 and our lamps are trimmed for the winter campaign. Most 

 people have cast aside thoughts of out-of-door delight, and 

 settled down to ordinary pursuits till spring. But the pike- 

 fisher suffers no interruption in his favourite pastime ; 

 rather, after Michaelmas he looks forward to four months of 

 prime sport. 



He has, supposing he began in August, seen the corn 

 embrowned by the sun ; has, standing by the river-side 

 while the pike is taking its time in gorging the live bait, 

 observed the reapers thrust in their sickles, and the women 

 and children gather up the sheaves ; has, while trudging 

 through the lane that offers the shortest cut to the station, 

 been compelled to turn into a gateway to give room for the 

 passage of the harvest-home wain, from which he has 

 plucked half a dozen ears of golden grain to bear away as 

 a trophy ; has seen the walnut-tree thrashed, and the apple 

 orchard glowing with pyramids of mellow fruit ; has noticed 

 the bright patches of pale yellow in the branches of the 

 elm-tree, and the rapidly changing hues of the chestnut — 

 first signs of the coming leaf-fall ; has on the thatched roofs 

 in the villages marked the assemblage of the swallow tribe, 

 marshalling day by day until the final flight darkens the 

 air j has, in the fields and hedgerows, observed the wild 

 flowers reduced to a few stragglers fretting mournfully in 

 the wind to follow the gaily-uniformed main army; has 

 looked upon the quaker-like drab of the meads, the burn- 

 ing crimson of haw and hip, the bead-glimmering black- 

 berry ; has noted the rapid gradations of the bracken and 

 fern from boldest green to faintest primrose ; has admired 



