April 29, 1893] 
THE EISHING GAZETTE 
311 
floods, have within living memory been a water¬ 
way, where lusty trout disported. Their honie 
has shrunken to narrow proportions, and their 
larder is bare. Ichabod is written over many a 
stream with a noble record in the past. But 
why weep ? These be “ improvements ! ” 
But your farmer does not stop at drainage. 
He has heard of the virtues of artificial manures, 
and money can be borrowed, for he has “ fixity 
of tenure,” and that means security and solvency. 
So he spreads some chemical, foul-smelling 
abomination over his fields, and having made two 
blades of grass grow were only one grew before, 
the aforesaid political economist rises up and 
call him blessed. Then the rain dissolves certain 
soluble portions of this stuff—and possibly the 
most deleterious portions—and so a little of it 
finds its way into brooks and rivers, and in time 
reaches the delicate gill ramifications of our 
trout with fell touch. It is not instantly fatal. 
Were it so something might be done. No; the 
trout grow weak and debilitated like human 
victims condemned to live in an impure atmos¬ 
phere. The powers of reproduction fail, and soon 
all is over. Gradual decay and final extinction 
closes the tragedy. Of course, it requires a 
specialist to say positively, and how far, chemical 
manures are deleterious, and arrange them in 
the order of their deadliness. But even a lay¬ 
man may safely venture to assert that a trout 
stream is not likely to benefit much by being 
made a sewer for miscellaneous chemical solutions. 
Another cheering aspect of this matter is that 
the evil will deepen and intensify. Development 
of resources and economic improvements and 
other things like that which men worship and 
glorify will see to that. A trout may survive, 
but only as a curious relic of the past. 
During this last week five trout, averaging 
nearly 21b., were killed on a neighbouring stream 
by a rod with a rather large and coarse Hare s 
Lug and Yellow, and a small Olive Quill. They 
seemed to take these two flies indifferently—first 
come first served apparently; but not a single 
fish was seen to rise at the natural flies which 
floated over them in scores during considerable 
portions of this time. On some occasions the 
olives went floating past in hundreds, but not 
a trout noticed them. The trout were all taken 
on deeply sunk flies, and autopsy revealed that 
they were crammed to distension with the fresh¬ 
water “ shrimp.” This is not exactly my last 
straw, but it is certainly one of the straws which 
have gone to show me that, as a rule, the wet fly 
is not taken as a fly or surface food at all, but 
rather as a submerged insect of some sort 
struggling against the stream. Another theory, 
perfectly sound in principle though not obtaining 
in practice every day, of course is that trout 
will prefer a drowning, struggling fly to one 
floating from mere laziness, just as your pike 
prefers a wounded victim to one with all its 
vigour about it. It may be contended that 
a motionless floating fly is an easier prey 
than the half-drowned straggler. But your trout 
generalises, and as myriads of surface flies are 
“ dancers,” and often baffle and tantalize the 
trout in consequence, these latter feel that 
surface-feeding is not always all beer and skittles, 
and so, during fits of physical inactivity, will not 
rise if there be anything easier to seize within 
reach. Anglers generally content themselves by 
attributing the almost proverbial hopelessness of 
casting flies over a perfectly unbroken sun- 
reflecting surface to the deterring conspicuousness 
of even the finest tackle, and the trout’s power 
under such conditions to penetrate the disguise 
of the lure; but there seems to be sornething 
more in it. Trout seem sometimes disinclined to 
break through the glinting surface into the 
sunlight; and this might be explicable on the 
ground that they suffer from a momentary 
dazzling on their return to their element, and in 
their younger days have had many a narrow 
shave for their lives at such a moment of partial 
helplessness from the rush of the watchful pike 
or other voracious enemy. The theory is a little 
fine drawn, perhaps, but everything is not yet 
quite known about trout and their feelings. 
Anyway, by fishing deep with a slow drag, trout 
may be taken in such weather when nothing 
would tempt them up to the surface. 
The experiment of introducing Pacific salmon 
into our rivers is one that should not be lightly 
abandoned, if there is nothing to be said against 
it except that the Pacific fish do not rise to a fly. 
The Pacific fish may be more sinned against than 
sinning. Of course, it is assumed that the 
introduction of the fish is desirable in other ways, 
otherwise the question is not worth referring to. 
Your Pacific salmon won’t rise, it is true, but 
would any salmon rise if placed in a Pacific 
river ? Is it the water that is in fault, or the 
fish ? Introduce some Tweed or Shannon 
salmon into the Fraser or Colorado, and see will 
they rise. Nary a rise, you’ll find. Salmon, liks 
other creatures, delight to rise and fight, for tis 
their nature to, and if they don’t indulge their 
natural inclinations it is in all probability 
owing to some unhappy influence which change 
of scene may effectually remove. But first take 
your home salmon to Pacific water, and then the 
question is as good as solved. If he rises no 
more, then it follows that his Pacific cousin is 
simply the victim of his surroundings, and if 
introduced into our water would rise with the best. 
LOCAL (HAMPSHIRE) FISHING 
GOSSIP. 
By R. N. 
At present it happens that I a.m practically 
surrounded by the River Test, bo near does the 
main stream run, that at night I can plainly hear 
the swirl of its waters. The noise does not 
resemble the sound of waves on a beach, it wants 
the regular rhythm of them. On analysis, I find 
it closely resembles the sound a fast-sailing boat 
makes against a slight head-sea. All places with 
a river running through them abound in local 
fishing gossips. The man that does odd jobs, 
gardening, bank-repairing, weed-cutting, and, 
maybe, poaching, is, perhaps, the most satis¬ 
factory gossip to get hold of; and he is not hard 
to find, as he seems to naturally gravitate to 
fishy bits of the river; although the miller, his 
employer, and the small country farmers (if 
located near water) generally have some ex¬ 
periences to relate. 
Not many days ago I came across a representa¬ 
tive of the first-named. A large grayling had 
attracted my attention, rolling in the gravel, 
cleansing itself after spawning. I was joined by 
a gentleman in corduroy and faded velveteen, 
who reminded me somehow of the reversal of 
Kingsley’s definition of a gamekeeper. ^ 
A few casual remarks started this man’s 
tongue. The subject of fish-spawning seemed 
to have received some attention from him, 
although he did not throw any remarkable or new 
light on it, except that he compared them to 
pigeon, which was new to me; the only similarity 
I could perceive being the fact that both their 
offsprings are produced from eggs. Walking a 
short distance up the river with him we came to 
a high fence, which, with a short stretch of 
meadow, divides the foot-path from the river. 
Stopping here, he related the following anecdote : 
“I minds last year Mr. - catching a trout 
there (pointing to a deep bend in the river) close 
on 51b.” (This trout was taken on a minnow, I 
understood). “I hears him hollering for help, 
and I over the fence and ran down to him as hard 
as I could go, and landed that fish for him, and 
he says so me, ‘ I would not have lost him for a 
sovereign, and that is what I should have done^if 
you had not come; here’s a pipe of bacca for you. 
My informant then remarked somewhat sadly, 
“ I tore my breeches getting over that fence. 
Truly some of us.will get our reward in the next 
world! . j 1 
Sunday afternoon (having done my duty at the 
abbey in the forenoon), the lovely spring weather 
tempted me to walk over and look at a stream I 
saw marked on the map, flowing through East 
Wellow, and joining the Test about Nursling. 
On the road I noticed two likely-looking ponds 
for pike (Bmbley). 
I came upon the stream where a bridge crossed 
it just above a mill. It looked somewhat muddy 
and sluggish, but there were indications of trout. 
I saw one rising under an alder; also the scurry 
of fry in the shallows. 
While resting on this bridge—by the bye, what 
a restful thing a bridge is—I was civilly accosted 
by a farmer, and, dropping into an angling con¬ 
versation, he gave me a good deal of information 
about the stream. It was called the Blackwater, 
and that small salmon came to where we were; 
also it contained trout, not large, being what he 
termed “ forest trout.” Nothing over lib. A 
gentleman had been over and killed seventeen, 
averaging half a pound, in a few hours. 
He related to me a reminiscence of Houghton. 
A member of the club had been trying for a large 
trout. The May-fly was up, and the fish rising 
well; but do what he would he could not get this 
particular fish to accept his May-fly. My friend, 
who had neen watching this fish, had noticed it 
was not taking the fly but the caddis as it rose to 
the surface. 
Catching one of these he persuaded the fisher¬ 
man to place it on his hook and throw it over 
the fish, with the result that the fish had it first 
cast. The trout, I think he said, weighed 5flb., 
and now adorns a glass case. He also told me a 
pike story. Going pike fishing in a pond near 
here, and having no bait he started in a boat to 
fly-fish for dace. After one or two casts he 
hooked a dace, and, while drawing it to the boat, 
a pike seized and became hooked through the lip. 
This fish, after a severe struggle, he succeeded in 
gafifing. It weighed 13flb. Not a bad piece of 
work on dace tackle. 
I was much pleased to-day to see the energetic 
young keeper on the water here carrying a jack 
of some three or four pounds he had just wired; 
he is always after them. Just before I met him 
I noticed a fresh-run fish of about 101b. lying in 
a hollow below a gravel heap. The keeper, I 
found, had spotted this fish, and put it down as 
161b. It is hard to judge fish in the water, but I 
expect his estimate came nearer the mark. 
It is pleasant, even if one cannot fish for them, 
to have salmon almost on your doorstep. This 
fish was not many yards above the stone bridge 
by Broadlands. 
THE LIVERPOOL ANGLING 
ASSOCIATION. 
We have received from Mr. Richard Woolfall, 
the energetic and greatly esteemed secretary, a 
copy of the new edition of the Rules and Regula¬ 
tions of the Liverpool Angling Association, with 
particulars of waters rented, and sundry other 
fishings, &c. 
Mr. Woolfall has written a pleasant little intro¬ 
duction, which we take the liberty to reprint. 
The Secketary of the Liverpool Angling 
Association on Angling. 
“Angling, as a recreation or pastime, is the 
pleasantest, most attractive, and health-giving 
under the sun. Its votaries are an immense 
multitude, and every year adds thousands to this 
vast army. And why this is so is easy enough to 
understand, for every disciple of this ‘ Gentle Art’ 
is constantly brought face to face with mother 
Nature in all her beauty and in all her moods. 
Here a mountain, grand in its majesty, towering 
to the skies; there a smiling valley rich in scenery, 
emerald green pastures studded with daisies, 
buttercups, and cowslips, and beautiful in the 
rich luxuriance of everything on which the eye 
rests. Through this earthly paradise rushes and 
sparkles and leaps a mighty rolling river, where 
the lordly salmon disports himself, and from 
whose waters he is beguiled by the wily angler. 
Here, again, is another peaceful and smiling 
valley, through which flows murmuringly a 
modest river, whose babblings make the most 
delightful music, breaking upon the ear and 
senses like a soothing nursery lullaby, whose 
waters contain the spotted trout, and^ whose 
banks are almost hidden by the myriads of 
primroses, blue-bells, forget-me-nots, violets, and 
numberless other gaily-coloured flora, amongst 
which the graceful ferns wave to and fro. And 
then the pure, bracing, uncontaminated air which 
fills the lungs with ozone, giving strong life and 
vio'our to the worn-out frame ; and the multitude 
of'^singing birds—larks, thrushes, blackbirds, 
linnets, &c., &c., together with the kingfisher, 
coot, and ousel, go to make up scenes of unsur¬ 
passable loveliness such as lifts perforce the 
angler’s thoughts to the Divine Creator, the Lord 
and Giver of all, and makes of the angler the 
‘ contemplative man’ beloved of ‘ Old Izaak. 
“ Rn. Woolfall.” 
The particulars of fishings rented, &c., make 
one wish all clubs had such privileges. 
