THE PISHING GAZETTE 
[Pebrtjart 4, 1893 
72 
notably the Dee, it has “looked” as bad, but in 
the majority it has been far less prevalent. Those 
in which it is now seen are the Solway rivers, 
Tweed, Tay, Earn, South Esk, North Esk, Dee, 
Don, Ythan, Daveron, Spey. Oar North Esk 
reporter says, 1.50 diseased fish taken out this 
winter, as against about 8)0 up to the same time 
of last winter. 
A\ immense amount of poached salmon has 
been hawked through the town of Aberdeen for 
.several weeks past. In the fish market there it 
is the current talk that the poachers have done a 
splendid thing among the clean salmon of the 
Dee and Don that were so numerous at the mouth 
of the rivers when there was no means of ascent, 
in consequence of the ice blockade. Every third 
household in Aberdeen, with its 130,000 inhabi¬ 
tants, has had callers more than once this year 
already, wanting to sell salmon. 
Guthrie Lorvie, of Birnam, has (says the 
Scotsman) purchased privately the salmon fish¬ 
ings of Loch Leven, Argyleshire, which extend to 
about 12 mile.s, from Lord Abinger, who lately 
acquired Loch Treig and Inverlair. 
A DAY^S TROUT FISHING ON A 
THAMES WEIR. 
By an Enthusiast. 
’Tis a charming May morning, therefore T will 
betake mo to-- Weir, and have yet another 
try for the villainously sly old Thames trout that 
has long derided my choicest baits and most 
artfully contrived tackle. Come with me, my 
friend, you have never experienced the intense 
enjoyment of a day’s trouting on a Thames 
Weir, and I hope to infect you with some of 
1 hat fever that verily possesses the true angler 
when in pursuit of the noblest, scarcest, and 
handsomest of all fish in old Father Thames. My 
pen can but inadequately picture the varied 
delights of first finding a trout, watching his 
habits and feeding times, fishing for him, and, 
above all, of finally catching him ; it is a trial of 
skill and patience, with long odds in favour of 
the fish. 
It is yet early morn, the sun breaking through 
the grey, fleecy clouds; the dew glitters on every 
blade, by the bright light, and the tinge of red 
in the west reflected from the rising sun, I judge 
there will be rain during the day. The wind is 
warm and gentle, softly blowing from my favourite 
quarter, S.W. It is plain there has been much 
rain during the early part of the night, as the 
puddles still remain, and you can see their highest 
watermark by the fringe of straws and small 
debris encircling them. Let us make full pre¬ 
parations for the day’s campaign; we shall need 
more than one meal before sunset. Sunset! say 
you Yes, sunset, and after that ere the d.aj’s 
fishing bo over. We will eat our lunch in the 
sweet-scented air, and you will say you have 
never enjoyed a meal so much before. Get thy 
waterproof, and also thy leggings, and we will 
away'. 
The punt is half-full of water; the rain has, 
indeed, been heavy; last night I baled her dry. 
We mop her out and 'unlock the well. The baits 
caught yesterday are knocking their noses against 
the gratings; not one has succumbed during the 
night. Notice how carefully the rod is jmt 
together, and the delicate tackle tested; should 
we have the pleasure of a visit from that old sly 
one, he will, indeed, try it to the uttermost. As 
you are not accustomed to a voyage in a jmnt, take 
my kindly advice and sit down, or you will perhaps 
imbibe more generous fluid than may be agreealile 
ere we reach our goal—the weir. Softly, now ; 
not a splash to alarm our quarry. We fasten the 
punt far below the weir, driving the staple deep 
down into the bank, as the stream is swift. We 
carry our tackle, not forgetting the landing net, 
to the weir head, taking a few baits in a small 
kettle, which we suspend in the water. Notice 
how the kettle i.s perforated in many places ; this 
allows a free current of water, keeping the baits 
fresh and lively. 
Before beginning to fish, have a good look at 
the water. You notice it is a bit coloured, as the 
river has risen a little with last night's rain. It 
is in perfect condition. The water just laps over 
some of the closed paddles of the weir where it 
was quite dry yesterday ; at the sides where the 
weir is open, the stream rushes down with 
tremendous force, forming huge eddies ; the foam 
glances and sparkles in the sunlight, and you 
observe a small rainbow in the mist caused by 
the splashing waters; this you will not see later 
on in the day, it is a treat reserved for early 
risers. Occasionally you see black dots for an 
instant in the foam. Look closely again, they 
are the backs of the bleak and dace darting up 
the fall. See! one has fallen on the stones, but 
he soon wriggles off again, and is borne away in 
the torrent. What was that splash ? A trout, 
the trout, but he missed, the bleak. How can I 
tell? Simply by keen sight; he will feed again 
soon. Ah! do not stand up suddenly like that, 
you have frightened him; remember you are on 
the skyline, and a trout has sight like an eagle. 
Mark me, he has rattled off to the lower end of 
the pool. I have watched his tricks many times. 
We wilt now commence fishing. The bait is 
not flung in with a splash, but I let it down the 
swiftest run precisely in the same way the bleak 
was washed back. The line runs fast and free 
from the winch, wh'ch is spinning round, I draw 
the bait swiftly across the eddy on the left side of 
the run, bringing it back right up to the very 
edge of the fall. Away it is carried again by the 
stream, I point the rod to the other shoulder 
and try the right hand eddy in the same manner. 
A fish take that? Yes, with a rush and dash 
that is sometimes positively startling, though 
occasionally a trout will take it so quietly, that 
you only see his black snout for a moment, but 
you know what has happened, and almost in¬ 
stantaneously feel the pull of the gallant fish. 
Where there is a hollow under the fall, a quiet 
feeding fish generilly bolts for that, bnt the 
“ smashers ” go off down stream. 
Give me another bait, we will try the other run 
in the weir. You notice the eddies are entirely 
different here, and the water much shallower. I 
let the bait travel down. Smash! splash!—a fish ! 
a fish! Steady, ’tis not a trout, ’tis a barbel or 
chub ; he has gone away and down to the bottom, 
travelling slowly about. Cfo down to the punt, I 
will walk down the bank and land him there; or 
rather, you shall land him for me, ’twill bi a 
good lesson for you. Steady now, keep the net 
still in the w'ater till I tell you to lift. ’Tis a 
huge chub. Do not be in a hurry. There, here 
he comes—now lift—-be is a good fish. We will 
weigh him—4|lb. Take him to the stream above 
the weir, and pitch him in again. Splosh! Off 
he goes, a sadder and a wiser fish. Landing him 
has disturbed the whole w'eir, so we will wait a 
little and smoke our favourite pipe. We shall, 
perhaps, see our friend the trout move again 
soon ; I will alter my tackle for his benefit, using 
a tiny cork for a float, and will presently try him 
at the furthest end of the weir pool, a good forty 
yards away. 
The sun is now disappearing behind heavy rain 
clouds ; while we shelter ourselves under this 
thorn bush, whi:e with blossom, let us take a 
hasty meal, that no time may be wasted. While 
the shower lasts the bleak and dace do not j ump 
so freely in the weir, but when the sun comes out 
again they will re-appear by scores. 
When there are so many baits in the weir the 
chances arc all against us, as the trout can easily 
take one out of many. However, it is plain 
the fish are well on the feed to-day, and we mean 
to have a good trout presently. Let us again 
commence operations. You see that large dark 
patch at the end of the pool, where there is com¬ 
paratively little current. The stream is stopped 
there by the gravel bank at the tail end of the 
weir, and has scooped out a deep hole. I will let 
my bait rest quietly there for a time, slipping the 
check off the winch, and keeping a little line 
loose to case the first rush. You sa^' he is 
evidently not there; but wait, patience is the 
great secret of success in trout catching. We 
may not see him again to-day, but know he is 
somewhere in ihe pool, and that he may feed at 
any moment. The sun comes out once more, and 
the dace flish in the foam, the clouds roll away; 
it is a glorious noon. Where is a prettier scene ? 
The roar of the weir is incessant, you feel 
inclined for forty winks, but that will not do. I 
will draw my line in and try a larger bait, letting 
it down to the same spot, where I have seen the 
trout feed many tim-s. 
See! a huge swirl. ’Tis he, he has got it, and 
I have him hard and fast! What an electric 
shock runs through me; after days and days 
spent in trying for that one fish I have hooked 
him at last! Thetrout dashes right across the weir, 
the line cuts sharjily through the water; now he 
turns, and comes up to the very edge of the fall. 
I wind in as fast as hand can turn the winch, 
keeping the line taut. We cannot see him yet, 
but he is evidently a large fish. See how the rod 
bends! He is off again like a flash, the check is 
off the winch or he would have smashed me that 
time. He turns again, and goes down right into 
the deeps. What a grand fish he is! He now 
keeps in one place, and will not move. This I do 
not like, as he will get his full strength back 
again. I raise the rod a little, and give a couple 
of sharp light taps with the fingers above the 
winch. Whew ! that has moved him with a 
vengeance. He comes up and leaps high out of 
the water. I instinctively lower the rod, and he 
goes away again, but at a slower pace. He is a 
noble fish ; his silvery sides gleamed in the sun¬ 
light, and we could see the black spots thickly 
dotted over him. No doubt of his being a trout 
now. He is cruising slowly along, I slip the 
check on, and put a heavier strain on him. He 
comes up quietly. Another rush or two, and 
another plunge into the deeps, and he is done; 
he turns on his side. You have the landing-net 
handy, so I will walk along the stream and bring 
him in with the help of the eddy. Be careful; I 
will bring him up again. There, now you have 
him. Get well away from the water before 
taking him out of the net, or we may yet lose 
him. 
What a picture the fish is! short, thick, and 
in perfect condition, his fins all clean, not a louse 
on him; let us weigh him—ten pounds? No, 
but over seven and a-half. Will you have him 
setup? Rather! 
We admire the fish for a long while, then 
place him in a clean sheet of newspaper, winding 
it smoothly all round him, when the fish dries, 
the paper will stick slightly and preserve every 
scale; now, let me have that towel, I place the 
fish fiat in it and tie the loose ends tightly with 
string to the landing net handle, straining them 
to their utmost extent; this keeps the fish 
straight and smooth, and the skin will not crack 
or crease, never pack a fish in grass if you wish 
to preserve his beauty. 
Let us open a bottle of beer, and wet him 
as he deserves, a Thames trout is not caught 
every day. We rest awhile, and make a most 
enjoyable lunch, then fish again till dusk; but 
really do little but talk of thie exciting struggle, 
and in fancy go through it all again. 
The sun has set, we move all our belonging! 
info the punt, and start for home, have you 
enjoyed the day? I should think so, I mean to 
be a fisherman ; and will fish till I get a trout. 
Well, good luck to you, and good night. 
Lonhley's Thames Angler’s anp Oarsman’s 
Vade-mecum. —It is some years now since Mr. P. 
G. Longley, of 39. Warwick-lane, London, E.C., 
first commenced this useful little waistcoat pocket 
guide, which gives information on the following 
matters A small sketch map of the Thames, a 
table of distances of the principal points and 
fishing stations between Putney and Folly Bridge, 
the distances from lock to lock, the nearest rail¬ 
way station to each, and the return fares ; a 1 st 
of the principal hotels, the local fishing to bo 
obtained, the fishermen's names, the conservancy 
preserves, Thames measurements and fence 
seasons, and an almanack and tide table for 1893. 
Disai’I'earance of Thames Flounders.— The 
eldest of the Gibson family, in a recent conver¬ 
sation with a licensed waterman, said that he 
had not seen a Thames flounder for about three 
years. George Gibsou thought that the dis¬ 
appearance of the flat fish in (juestion was owing 
to the impurities cast into the river; but if 
this be the cause, it hardly seems to tally with 
the fact mentioned by the same bait fisherman 
—that he now caught a good many dace and 
some roach between Westminster and Battersea 
Bridges. The Thames flounder, nicely fried, used 
to form an appetising fish only a few years ago, 
the fl 3sh being as white as that of a large turbot, 
and Pearce, the fisherman, got some every nOw 
and then.— Savour. 
