A
handy little fellow (I wonder where he is now?) hooked a trout of
nearly three pounds with his dropper, and at the same moment a post
with his stretcher. What was to be done? To keep the fish pulling
on him, and not on the post. And that, being favoured by standing on
a four-foot bank, he did so well that he tired out the fish in some
six feet square of water, stopping him and turning him beautifully
whenever he tried to run, till I could get in to him with the
landing-net. That was five-and-thirty years since. If the little
man has progressed in his fishing as he ought, he should be now one
of the finest anglers in England.
* * * * *
So. Thanks to bank fishing, we have, you see, landed three or four
more good fish in the last two hours--And! What is here? An ugly
two-pound chub, Chevin, 'Echevin,' or Alderman, as the French call
him. How is this, keeper? I thought you allowed no such vermin in
this water?
The keeper answers, with a grunt, that 'they allow themselves. That
there always were chub hereabouts, and always will be; for the more
he takes out with the net, the more come next day.
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