HOOKED FOUL. 215 



"The time had arrived when the mystery must be 

 cleared up. My companion paddled me slowly to the 

 upper end of the lake, I making a pretence of spinning the 

 water as we progressed. A sudden bend of the shore gave 

 us sight of the other punt. The boobiest of fellows still 

 reclined at his ease, and my fnut-brown maid stood con- 

 fessed a veritable pike-mistress. 



" What a figure, too, as she lightly swept the bamboo 

 spinning-rod over her left shoulder, and brought it back 

 again for the cast ! It was the freest and most graceful 

 I ever witnessed. The bait fell with' a minimum of splash 

 into the water, not an inch less than twenty yards the lee 

 side of the punt, and it was spun home at a speed and 

 depth that bespoke the experienced artist. 



" You may laugh, my friend, but do you not speak of a 

 singer, or dancer, or actor as an 'artiste'? Therefore, my 

 signification of the term, your ribald jeer notwithstanding, 

 is quite justifiable. The miserable jester who chuckles 

 over the stale old senseless saying, ' A fool at one end 

 and a worm at the other,' will not, perhaps, understand me, 

 but that large and increasing class of anglers, who are the 

 product of nineteenth century refinement — yes, I do not 

 withdraw the assertion — these will know how to admire my 

 nymph of the rod. For the space of half an hour she 

 made superb leisurely casts, taking the punt as a centre 

 from which to make the radiations, beginning with a dozea 

 yards, and regularly increasing the distance, until the maxi- 

 mum of twenty yards was reached. 



" It was some comfort that she just now caught no fish. 

 I felt so much the less ashamed of myself. A very good 

 angler, according to the estimate of my friends, I confess 



