12 
Ti[E ErSlIIXCI GAZETTE 
[January 7, ISJo 
roach. These should go a long way to re-stock¬ 
ing the canal. A large consignment of the 
latter fish is expected to he turned in before next 
spring. 
Pike are sometimes taken 22in. to 21.\in. long, 
the largest caught by my informant being 29Hn., 
hut baby jack are numerous. Carp uj) to 51b. and 
Hlb. in weight, but very difficult to catch. Bream 
up to -lib. in weight and over. Last summer 
Jlessrs. Barnes and Hewitt, of the Great Northern 
Brothel’S, caught nearly 1001b., and so broke the 
record, reported very handsome fish with respect to 
shape and colour, and in splendid condition. Tench 
abound, and the third bend or “angle” below 
Uythe, or what is called the Brickyard bend, is a 
noted swim for tench. They have been fre¬ 
quently taken, by Mr. Austen and other anglers, 
weighing between filb. and lib. It is the beau 
ideal of a tench water. 
AVith the local anglers, lobs are a favourite 
bait, both for bream and tench, fishing well on 
the bottom in the clear places, and they often 
ground bait with chopped woi’ius. Between AYest 
Hythe Bridge, near the Carpenter’s Arms and 
the dam, is a good place for jack. Speaking of 
jack, one day last year. Sergeant Blunt, of the 
School of Musketry, took eight jack with live 
roach, all of which were over olb. in weight, and, 
so far as 1 can make out, roach seem to bo a most 
.successful bait. Although jack are frequently 
taken spinning with a spoon, &c , I prefer a live 
dace on a single gut hook, with the gut as fine as 
possible, and the best that can be obtained in case 
of hooking a good fish; the canal being very 
bright and clear and rather weedy, but when 
discoloured after heavy rains—more especially 
between Hythe and Seabrook—and always at the 
so-called culverts draining the uplands and hills, 
where it looks as though it had been mixed with 
lime and very thick ; it is altogether too thick for 
live baiting, but a certain distance, say 150 yards 
from this discolouration, at some points of the 
canal it again becomes fine. As an instance, it 
was too thick to fish at the drain below the third 
bend or “ angle ” from Hythe, but at the angle 
itself the water was very clear, as stated. It is 
generally in the worst pickle at the town, where 
the water, owing to the chalky nature of the soil 
and the mortar-like state of the streets and roads, 
pours in a liquid like soiled milk, and it takes 
a considerable time to fine down. 
Harking back to jack, I cannot help saying 
that it is astonishing what a large dace a small 
jack will attempt to pouch. Similarly, small 
perch will try and pouch preposterously large 
gudgeon. This is the one great drawback to live 
baiting with dace, but nine times out of ten, 
owing to the peculiar gyrations the float under¬ 
goes from the first bob, now up, now down, now 
here, now there, with anon a short erratic run 
and its disappearance, until the final, steady, 
and deliberate revolving of the reel; the tyro 
may know that a baby jack is trying his level 
best to get outside the lure, and there is as much 
diti'erence in the said baby jack taking a minnow 
as there is between the way in which a cat and 
dog eat a bit of meat, for in the latter case it 
is often instantly gulped. Out of the four 
precious dace I had been at no end of trouble to 
reserve for the last day, in the hope of taking a 
good fish, I had (to my intense disgust) four runs 
within an hour from these pests, catching three, 
two being unsi/.eable and returned. One thing, 
they were in beautiful condition, and splendidly 
mottled, and young jack are devoid of that 
peculiar twang that is so often left after par¬ 
taking of large jiike, in other words, the flesh is 
more delicate and tasty. Fine large stoneloach 
they would not have at any price, neither I nor a 
local angler having the ghost of a run. To my 
surprise, none of the three anglers I met had 
ever seen any of these fish, and, as dace cannot 
be obtained in this locality, roach are mostly 
used by local anglers for taking hoth jack and 
eels. 
{To he continued.) 
The educational exhibit at the AYorld’s Fair 
is to have the space it requires. A new build¬ 
ing, costing Sl’20,000 has been ordered for the 
ethnological exhibit, which accordingly is thereby 
removed from the M.anufacturers’ and Liberal 
Arts building, thus allowing more space for the 
educational exhibit. 
RECOLLECTIONS OF FISHING IN 
IRELAND. 
By L. S. G. 
Most fly fishers prefer, perhaps, trout fishing 
ill river, brook, or beck, to trout fishing on a 
lake. Fishing a stream a man may wander on, 
a true disciple of old Izaak, indulging in his 
own fancies, observing the beauties of nature, 
keenly alive above all to the forms of insect life, 
yet not forgetful of his art, so that the twilight 
of a successful day guides him homeward with 
a full creel. Upon a lake the angler cau scarcely 
navigate his craft and cast the bees, ho must 
have a henchman, and whether it be taciturn 
Sandy, the Scotch gillie, or voluble Pat Flinnigan, 
of the “ auld couiithry,” the meditation dear to 
the brethren of the rod has perforce to be 
abandoned, and too often, particularly on strange 
waters, the fisherman is entirely dependent on 
the oarsman. 
Well can I remember some days of ily fishing 
ou Lake Ennel, in AVestmeath. Cloudy days in 
April, W’ith soaking showers and boisterous 
south-w'est winds, raking up “ w'hite horses,” on 
which our boat leaped and dauced, hot bright 
days in May and early June, with the sunlight 
glinting on the rippling water as w'e floated 
before the gentle breeze, yet in all these change¬ 
ful moods of the great lake, we generally took 
fish. Pleasant times those were when, starting 
early in the morning, wind and weather pro¬ 
pitious, I found myself rowing out of some 
secluded bay ; seated in the stern, my comrade in 
the bows, and between us, now tugging at the 
sculls, a youth, who gave his imagination full 
scope in matters piscatorial. “ AVell, Tim,” I 
asked, when we shot out into the open lake, 
“what bank shall we take?” “ Och ! the other 
soide, your honour, to-day. Sure the wind’s 
roight for that. It’s a lovely curl that’s on the 
wather,” and Tim was right. In a few minutes 
we were under the shore, riding broadside 
on, gently rising and falling on the waves, 
and each man casting alternately in front of 
the boat, and to his side. I held the seat 
nearest the bank, which was deeply fringed 
with a broad belt of tall reeds, and there¬ 
fore had slightly the pull of my companion. I 
found it more profitable to cast tow’ards the reeds 
than before the skiff. The fish were waiting 
beneath the swaying, bending forest for what 
luck might throw in their way, and came bound¬ 
ing forward as the flies fell and retired, either 
leaping madly at the droppers or curling round 
the stretcher. My comrade did not do so badly 
in the deeper water before and around him; and 
thus the day would wear on, as we glided forward 
to the “ sw'ish, swish ” of the rods, and the lapping 
of the ripple against the planks of our somewhat 
clumsy craft. Then came, from time to time, a 
“ chuck,” as the yielding hickory bent to some 
hooked fish, and the pleased augler saw the 
golden gleam beneath his fly, or felt the heavy 
drag from the midst of the bulging ring far in 
front of him. Now the line courses to and fro 
through the water, the boat twists and turns to 
prevent a foul, a splashing contest succeeds upon 
the surface, and then Tim either nets or gaffs 
“a rale rattler.” I say gaff, for Tim had the 
greatest objection to the trouble and waste of 
time entailed by removing hooks from a landing 
net. He tad filed down a large salmon hook, 
lashed the name to a fitting handle, and with this 
primitive weapon he made the most unerring 
shots, and, “ widout spoiling the throuts for your 
honour’s table,” would bring in many a lively 
fish, and small ones, too, neatly nicked about the 
gills. All honour to Tim; it is not everyone that 
can gaff a struggling trout from a boat, sometimes 
in what one might call a heavy sea. Where no 
beds of reeds encircled the shore, or where the 
banks were not precipitous, with deep w’ater 
beneath, we kept farther out from land; at other 
times we cast the shallows in mid-lake, and here,as 
a rule, the fish were larger. But the “gran sport,” 
according to the natives, was wheu the green 
drakes were “on.” Approach the lake at that time 
and every “gossoon” assailed you with invitations 
to purchase delapidated boxes, or wide-mouthed 
bottles, filled with the hapless insects. Daping 
or dibbing is, to my mind, a rather spiritless, if 
not poaching business. As the impaled Mayflies, 
on the blow-line float over the translucent wave, 
the trout, in most instances, such them down. 
There is little of the fire and dash of the fish as 
at the artificial lure; of course the contest for the 
mastery remains the same. There were pike also 
in Ennel. Returning from fishing, one summer’s 
evening, w’e baited some gimp spinning tackle 
with perch, their back fins being cut off, and 
rowed down the lake. The perch is not a brilliant 
fish in June, but we took some small jack, and 
three pike, the largest 91b. They were all miser¬ 
able creatures, and confessing we were cockney 
sportsmen enough not to care to kill pike in 
summer, even in trout stocked waters, in future 
we left A’so.k Indus alone. 
Only once had I a tussle with a salmon in this 
lake. 1 was on ray way to the salmon beat when 
it fell dead calm, there would not have been a 
prospect of success with the fly. AVhatwastobe 
done? “Troy trailing,” suggested Bat, the lad 
who was rowing me, “ I know whei’e there’s min¬ 
nows.” He shot off to the mouth of a small 
beck that ran into the lake, and hurried away 
with a lauding net, w’hile 1 prepared my spinning 
tackle. In twenty minutes the eager boy returned 
with a good store of red, ])lump minnows, just in 
that state when the salmon are supposed to affect 
them most. Choosing a large one, gorgeous with 
all the colours of the rainbow, I quickly adjusted 
it to a stout salmon gut trace, slightly leaded, 
and, shoving off, with a long line commenced to 
trail up the shore, where the salmon were stated 
to have their hold. AVe rowed up the water 
sacred to the lordly fish, but nothing came of it, 
and, to say the truth, I thought, and still think, 
trailing for salmon in a lake is but poor sport; 
then, having reached our limit, after a rest for 
the lad, and with a fresh but equally attractive 
bait, I turned for another trial. During our 
upward course I had spied a great white boulder 
lying many feet deep, and noting a tree or two 
on the bank at the time, as we came back I 
ordered my oarsman to sweep out, rowing 
cautiously, and then to tn ist in, bringing the line 
well over the rock. Deftly Pat carried out my 
wishes. This time the boat had not scared 
the fish that harboured there, I felt a gentle 
pluck first, then a tug, the rod bent—I was into 
a salmon. AVith a run the fish rushed outwards to 
deep water, then he bored down; but we were close 
upon him, or rather above him, the shivering rod 
forming a beautiful curve, and the line gyrating 
round and round in circles. Playing a fish from 
a boat on a lake is doubtless exciting work, but 
it wants the spirit of the contest from the rivei’’a 
bank. The quarry is never seen till the last, 
there is no stream to aid or impede the fish, no 
rapid for him to take to, shallows, rocks and 
snags are alike absent, and the angler is pretty 
much at ease. The fisher has not to course up 
and down the bank, climb obstructions, or enter 
the water; he can give his whole attention to the 
work in hand. Thus it was with my salmon on 
that day. Q.uite invisible, he went hither and 
thither, here and there, always pursued by the 
boat, until at last the trace appeared above the 
surface, and bright flashes gleamed in the depths. 
Pat was an active and intelligent “ bhoy,” he had 
plenty to say when rowing or tiout fishing, but 
once a salmon was hooked, ho was as mute as the 
deaf adder. Pulling out gillaroos was mere 
trifling, playing a “ frish run,” a solemn mattei’— 
“ rale business.” Pat looked at me when he saw 
the gut, then he shipped his sculls. The fish 
splashed on the surface, rolled over, I drew him 
slithering alongside. Then came a gleam of 
steel, a haul, and the fight was over. “ Iliviu if 
an ounst,” cried Pat, “ and bedad he was in the 
say, tin moile away, yisterday mornin’.” 
I had another combat with a big fish, a fero.c, 
on Lough Melvin. Late one summer’s evening I 
was rowing home, after trout fishing, trailing 
two rods, one baited with an artificial minnow, 
“ just to put a trout or two more on the top of the 
basket,” as Pat observed, the other with a Jenkin, 
which I regret to say is a parr. Twilight was 
drawing in, the stars, one by one, were beginning 
to twinkle overhead, and I was sitting watching 
the distant landscape fade away into dark blue 
beyond the sheen of the calm water. We were 
rounding a rocky point, when the Jenkin rod, 
with a crash, darted from its resting place in the 
stroke rowlock, and the reel began to discourse 
sweet, very sweet music. “Frox,” shouted Pat. 
I was up in an infetant, and while my now dumb 
