By (he Am&tettr Angler
THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
ON A SUNSHINE HOLYDAY
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"On a Sunshine Holyday 5 '
BY
THE AMATEUR ANGLER
" Meadows trim with daisies pied,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide."
L' Allegro.
LONDON
SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON AND COMPANY
Limited
St. Dunstan's SOUSE
FETTER LANE, FLEET STREET, E.G.
1897
CH1SWICK PRESS I CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO.
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.
MY DEAR DOROTHY,
,T is thirteen years since I dedicated my first
volume to your cousin Lorna, who was then
an enthusiastic angler, nearly three years old,
and who fished in Dovedale with my walking
stick for her rod, two yards of twine for her line, a bent
pin for her hook, and a battered tin minnow ior her fish.
You and she, and Kathleen, and many other of your
brothers and cousins, my grandchildren, boys and girls,
are now old enough to criticise my style both of fishing
and writing from the superior standpoint of youth. I
admit at once that you can all do much better than I
can, so I beg you not to be very severe in your criticism.
Complying with your special request, I am pleased to
dedicate this my last book to you, and to express the
hope that you and your cousins a round score now in
the heyday of girlhood and boyhood, may grow up to
be good men and women.
E. M.
LONDON,
November, 1897.
viii NOTE.
by many friends, and by the public, and my
gratitude is due to them. This kindness and
generosity has led me once again to put together
my occasional contributions to " The Fishing
Gazette "y and so, with some alterations and
additions, to form a volume of similar dimen-
sions, I fear not better, I hope not -worse, than
its predecessors. I am well aware that from
the standpoint of " literature " these papers pos-
sess no claim for a separate existence. What
I have written has been for me a pleasant
occupation of leisure moments, and if to read
this volume affords as much pleasure to my
friends and my friendly ctitics as its prede-
cessors seem to have done, I shall be fully
rewarded.
The chapters are not all about fishing, for I
had but few fishing excursions to record; the
chief connection between them is that all have
reference, more or less, to "sunshine holy days"
E. M.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. WOODPECKERS AND VIPERS 2
II. HAMPSTEAD HEATH ON A BANK HOLIDAY n
III. " TALES FROM THE TELLING HOUSE " . 21
IV. SALISBURY PLAIN AND THE VALLEY OF
THE AVON 30
V. MAY FLY FISHING ON THE ITCHEN (1896) 38
VI. "ANIMALS AT WORK AND PLAY" . . 44
VII. ROUND AND ABOUT LOWESTOFT ... 55
VIII. THE PROSE OF FLY FISHING .... 65
IX. A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF GILBERT WHITE . 74
X. ' ' THE COMPLEAT ANGLER " 80
XI. OUR MAY FLY OUTING ON THE TEST
(1897) 88
XII. OUR MAY FLY OUTING ON THE ITCHEN
(1897) 97
XIII. AUGUST BANK HOLIDAY FISHING
(A SINGULAR AND CURIOUS INCIDENT) 103
XIV. ON THE EDGE OF EXMOOR no
XV. THE DOONE VALLEY 125
XVI. " FAMILIAR WILD BIRDS " 137
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PLOVER'S BARROWS frontispiece
LESSER SPOTTED WOODPECKER . . . to face 4
VIPERS ( Vipera Aspis L. ) ,, 10
VALE OF HEALTH, HAMPSTEAD HEATH . ,, 12
THE WATER SLIDE, BADGERY WATER . ,, 24
BUTCHER BIRDS ,, 32
STONEHENGE (THE TRILITHON) 34
THE EUROPEAN BADGER (Meles taxus] . ,, 48
THE BEACH, LOWESTOFT ,, 56
IZAAK WALTON'S MARRIAGE CHEST . . ,, 86
DULVERTON ,, IIO
OUR DIGGINGS , 112
THE BUZZARD , 114
LANDACRE BRIDGE ,, n8
KESTREL , 136
CREEPER ,, 138
"ON A SUNSHINE HOLYDAY."
CHAPTER I.
WOODPECKERS AND VIPERS.
NE of the consequences of the publica-
tion of my little book, "By Meadow and
Stream," is that I have been dubbed a
naturalist a title to which I beg to
be permitted to say I have no claim whatever.
Some of my friends have got the impression
that I know all about every bird, insect, or
reptile to be found on this island. I thought I
had sufficiently guarded myself against this too
flattering assumption by stating that my ex-
perience and my life amongst birds and beasts
began and ended nearly sixty years ago. Since
then my lot has been cast rather among un-
feathered bipeds and four-footed creatures of
the canine and feline species. I have found
B
2 WOODPECKERS AND VIPERS.
neither time nor opportunity for studying nature
beyond what is left of it in a pretty but city-
haunted suburban garden.
The late Sir Richard Owen was able, owing
to his great genius and life-long experience, to
construct a whole antediluvian animal of mega-
therium dimensions from a single bone or tooth.
In like manner have I been called upon to con-
struct a bird from a few feathers.
A good lady, who had done me the honour of
reading my book, sent me not long ago, from
the neighbourhood of Abergavenny, a small
shattered wing of a bird, which her cat had
killed and mangled in her garden. She had
never seen a bird like it, and she particularly
wished me to tell her what it was. Luckily by
a mere fluke, as it were I have been able to re-
construct this bird from its few feathers, and to
furnish the lady with a perfect description of it.
A friend staying with me, of a very observant
nature, inquiring mind, and retentive memory,
told me that she had seen, only a few days ago,
a bird of exactly similar plumage hung up by its
beak in a poulterer's shop. She inquired what
the bird was ; it was there clearly for show
rather than for gastronomic purposes ; she was
told that it was a woodpecker.
Now, if there is one bird of the rarer kind that
I thought I remembered better than any other,
it is a woodpecker. I have seen lots of them in
WOODPECKERS AND VIPERS. 3
the woods and orchards on the old farm in the
days of old, and I am quite sure that I have
never seen one since ; but surely, unless my
memory has sadly played me false, all my wood-
peckers were green, with a bit of red on their
heads, and three times the size of the bird which
this wing represents, and which is not much
larger than a sparrow's wing, and it is striped
black and white. This, of course, will sufficiently
show the extent of my ornithological knowledge.
I had only seen one species, and supposed there
was one only. I turned to Gilbert White, but,
to my surprise, the woodpecker is not indexed
in my edition, and the only reference I could
find is that he appears about Michaelmas, and
disappears about April.
Bewick, however, is more informing. He not
only tells me that there are three kinds, the
" green," the " greater," and the " lesser spotted"
the latter he calls the barred woodpecker he
says the smallest of the three is only five inches
and a half in length ; weight nearly one ounce,
and that the crown of the head is crimson. He
furnishes a lovely little woodcut of this bird, and,
on comparing it with my wing, I am astonished
at its absolute fidelity bar for bar, spot for spot.
Every feather is there as distinct as if he had
had this particular wing to copy.
Robert Mudie, author of " Feathered Tribes
of the British Islands," says : " The several
4 WOODPECKERS AND VIPERS.
woodpeckers vary in tint with the general
colours of the trees which they select."
Dr. Hamilton, in his delightful book, "The
Riverside Naturalist," describes all three in a
very interesting way. " The green woodpecker,"
he says, "when not too much disturbed, will
take the same round day after day, visiting the
same trees, beginning at the base, and work-
ing round and round all up the trunk, searching
for food. It is especially fond of ants, and hops
in a curious upright position from one ant hill to
another. ... Its laughing cry has given it the
provincial name of Yaffel.
" The lesser spotted woodpecker is more
common than its larger cousin, the greater
spotted, and if looked for carefully enough in
the elms and poplars may often be noticed. . . .
It is more barred in the wing, with its back
more white than the greater. The crown of the
head is red.
" The greater spotted is not so common."
Dr. Bull says : "The great spotted 'woodpecker,
though nowhere numerous, is yet not rare in the
oak woods and orchards of Herefordshire.
" The lesser spotted, though not abundant in
Herefordshire, is yet not a rare bird."
R. Bowdler Sharpe says : " The lesser spotted
woodpecker is easily recognized by its lesser
size, being no bigger than a nuthatch. Both
sexes have the head scarlet."
I.KSSF.K SPOTTED Wool >PF.( KKK.
WOODPECKERS AND VIPERS. 5
Mudie says its prevailing colour on the upper
part is black, with dull red on the hind head
and partially on the crown.
Thus have these learned authorities taught
me to build up my black and white barred and
battered wing into a beautiful lesser spotted
woodpecker. The only difference, if it can be
called a difference, between them is that Bewick
says the head is crimson, Dr. Hamilton says it
is red, R. Bowdler Sharpe says it is scarlet, and
Mudie says it is dull red.
In my vagabond school days it was my de-
light, when not fishing, to stroll off on a spring
holiday afternoon into the woods to listen to the
birds, for, although I have not a musical ear, and
could never whistle or sing a tune properly, yet
the songs of many birds have always had a
singular charm for me. A number of birds
singing their own songs must, I should think,
produce on sensitive ears a jarring discord. I
suppose I am so far insensible as not to feel the
jar, though sensitive enough to find it pleasant
harmony.
"... Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows, and the woods
And mountains, and of all that we behold
From this green earth."
One day I was sitting under a beech in the
wood, manufacturing a whistle out of a stem of
6 WOODPECKERS AND VIPERS,
mountain ash, when I heard a tap, tap, on an
oak branch close by.
" Every leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound,
But the woodpecker tapping the hollow oak tree. "
MOORE.
There was a beautiful green woodpecker
labouring away at the bark with his strong
beak, supported by his two front claws, clinging
to the tree, and assisted by his strong tail
feathers pressed close against the bark. I had
never seen one so near before. They are so
shy that it is no easy matter to catch them at
work. One generally sees them on the wing,
flitting from one tree to another, with a peculiar
undulating flight ; wings spread and flapping for
the rise, and closed for the fall. He was chip-
ping off great bits of soft wood bent on working
a hole into the rotten wood to nest in, or else
seeking for insects. Mudie informs me that he
tries round the tree till he comes to a place
which is hollow, and upon that he beats the
drum in loud and rolling taps, but yet without in
the least perforating the tree ; and the bird con-
trives to make the sound merry, and in some
degree musical, and if his mate catches the
sound she answers to it, the bargain is concluded,
and the labour of the season begins. This
drumming on the tree is, in fact, his love-note
and a summons to his mate that a nest is to be
WOODPECKERS AND VIPERS. 7
formed and food to be found. When really en-
gaged in boring for nesting purposes the sound
is different, and resembles the grinding of a
thick piece of steel on a rather smooth stone,
and may be heard at a considerable distance.
I asked old Bollington, the parish clerk, who
happened to be on his way through the wood,
what he called the bird : " Why," says he,
"that's a hicklc, and he's tapping for rain."
Old B. was an excellent clerk, and said
"Aamen" with sonorous dignity, but he was
too fond of wandering down the steep of that
wood to the village pub. below. He went, un-
happily, once too often, for not long after my
interview he was found dead on a Sunday
morning in a quarry in the wood near to the
path, into which he had fallen on his return from
the pub.
VIPERS AND ADDERS.
Are they identical ? Do they bite, and do
they sting ? Truly, a little knowledge is a dan-
gerous thing. I am clearly getting beyond my
depth in discussing this grave question. 1 I turn
to my Gilbert White, and he solemnly tells me :
" Providence has been so indulgent to us as to
allow of only one venomous reptile of the serpent
kind in these kingdoms, and that is the viper?
1 Previously referred to in " By Meadow and Stream."
8 WOODPECKERS AND VIPERS.
He does not use the word adder, but, of course,
he means it. That was a source of some com-
fort to me, but on turning over the leaves of
Wm. Howitt's "Year Book of the Country," to
see if he has anything to say about woodpeckers,
I came across the following remarks, which
compel me to offer another apology to Mr. Van
Dyke, the author of " Little Rivers," for whose
benefit, it will be remembered, that I quoted
Scripture to prove that he was wrong about
adders stinging. And " Cotswold Isys " quoted
Scripture to prove that I was wrong. 1
" In the midst of the thickets we had nearly
trodden upon a viper two feet three inches long,
black as ink, which we killed. It would appear
that we have in this country (these kingdoms,
G. White says) two species of venomous snakes :
the black kind, and the lesser red-brown kind, or
adder, found on the sunny heaths. The wood-
man said that this owed its deep jet blackness to
its recent change of skin. Perhaps so ; but this
was evidently of a totally different kind to the
brown adder of the moors. Besides its intense
inky colour and its poison fangs in the mouth, it
had a sting in its tail !
" The keeper, to whose house we took it, pro-
nounced it of the most venomous kind."
Dr. Hamilton (" Riverside Naturalist") says
1 See " By Meadow and Stream."
WOODPECKERS AND VIPERS. 9
we have only one venomous snake in the country,
and that, although the bite of an adder will cause
very unpleasant symptoms, he believes there is
no record of death being caused by it among
the human race. As a boy I have killed dozens
of adders when I have found them basking on
sunny banks. The proper method I was told
was to lash them on the tail first with a pliant ash
or hazel switch. My method was to strike on the
tail first and then thrash away as fast as I could
ply the stick indiscriminately all over the body.
The largest I ever killed was about eighteen
inches 1 Dr. Hamilton says that any over
twenty-four inches must be considered as great
rarities. The best remedy for the bite is ammonia
employed both externally and taken internally.
They are very easily approached, being as they
are said to be deaf, or at least very sound
sleepers ; or it may be, as it has been said in
1 I remember about twenty-five years ago, when in
Devonshire fishing, I was being driven by a farmer from
Exford to Withypool, across a part of Exmoor, when we
saw an adder on the road ; the farmer pulled up his
horse, jumped off the trap, and went for the reptile, but
the latter was too quick for him, and disappeared behind
a bush in the bank. The farmer pulled the bush and
grass about with his hands to try to find the adder, but
failed to do so. He told me afterwards that if he had had
time to mark a circle round the brute on the road and
say a particular verse from the Psalms, the adder could
not have moved out of the circle. R. B. M.
io WOODPECKERS AND VIPERS.
fable, that the adder, to prevent hearing the
voice of a charmer, lays one ear on the ground
and sticks his tail into the other. 1 2
1 Dr. Brewer's " Dictionary of Phrase and Fable."
" One day Bach found the painter Gainsborough fag-
ging at the bassoon. " Nay now," said Gainsborough,
" it is the richest bass in the world. Now listen again."
" Listen," cried Bach, " I did listen at your door, and
by all the powers above, it is just for all the world as the
veritable braying of a jackass." " Damn it," retorted
Gainsborough, " why, you have no ear, man ; no more
than an adder." MRS. ARTHUR BELL'S Life of Thomas
Gainsborough.
CHAPTER II.
HAMPSTEAD HEATH ON BANK HOLIDAY.
N Hampstead Heath, Easter Bank
Holiday begins on Good Friday. As
a dweller in Hampstead for some years,
I could not help but learn, through
the medium of the Press or otherwise, that the
Heath on Bank Holidays is largely visited by
its owners, its landlords in perpetuity. My im-
pression is that the inhabitants of Hampstead
know nothing whatever of these owners or lords
of the Heath. Never is rural, quiet Hampstead
so absolutely peaceful and quiet, especially that
part of it to the west of High Street, as on Bank
Holiday. I suppose, as a rule, it moves away
to the sea, or is off angling by some pleasant
stream, or it goes somewhere far enough off;
those who remain shut themselves up in their
houses, and keep themselves in intentional
ignorance of the crowds of visitors which rail-
ways, 'buses, carriages, cabs and carts, horse-
12 HAMPSTEAD HEATH
men, donkeymen, and footmen pour upon the
Heath close by.
I confess that I myself, in all the years of my
residence here, have never till now found an
opportunity of seeing what this happy hill is
like on a Bank Holiday. On such occasions I
have generally preferred to hie me away to the
water side.
We who reside in Hampstead know well
enough what our Heath is like on all other days
of the year ; we know that it stands high above,
and overlooks the greatest city in the world,
and that it is altogether that great city's most
charming suburb ; its scenery is exquisite in its
wild variety ; its extensive views for many miles
on every side are unsurpassed. On all days but
Bank Holidays we call it our Heath, and are
very proud of it. Yet, why should we be so
proud ? It no more belongs to us individually
than it does to each individual of the hundred
or, may be, two hundred thousands of our
brothers and sisters who come from the utter-
most parts of London on these rare occasions to
pay a visit to their property.
Here are no less than 481 acres of most
delightful lands, of hill and dale, copses, ferns,
gorse, and ponds, purchased mainly by the
people of London at a cost of nearly ,360,000.
To be precise, I will give exact figures, quoting
from that excellent work, " Records of Hamp-
ON BANK H OLID A Y. 13
stead," by R. E. Baines, C.B. I learn that the
East and West Heaths, comprising 220 acres,
were purchased in 1869 from the lord of the
manor, Sir John Maryon Wilson, by the Metro-
politan Board of Works for the sum of ,57,000 ;
and in 1889 Parliament Hill Fields and the
Brickfields, comprising 261 acres, were acquired
and paid for as follows :
London County Council ,151,000
City Parochial Charities 50,000
Vestries : St. Pancras 30,000
Hampstead 20,000
St. Marylebone .... 5,000
Raised by public subscriptions . . 46,000
,302,000
Add cost of East and West Heaths . 57,ooo
.359,ooo
These figures may be interesting to some
readers.
Parliament Hill was formerly better known as
Traitors' Hill, for here it was popularly believed
that the Guy Fawkes conspirators had assembled
to view the blowing up of the Houses of Parlia-
ment, Nov. 5, 1605, probably a popular fiction.
This year (1896) the Heath, owing to the very
mild winter and favourable weather since, began
early to assume its spring mantle of green. The
14 HAMPSTEAD HEATH
grass on the East Heath and on Parliament
Hill Fields is lush and long enough to cover
one's feet. Willows, elms, chestnuts, hawthorns,
and all other trees and shrubs are budding and
bursting into leaf and flower. Gorse on the
West Heath is in full bloom.
" The green buds glisten in the dews of spring,
And all is vernal rapture as of old."
KEBLE.
All nature seems flush and ready for the Easter
merry-making.
On Good Friday I was first reminded that
Easter Monday was at hand. Our city pro-
prietors from down Whitechapel way had
already taken possession of their beautiful fields.
Here were many thousands of them, and they
brought with them loads of cocoa-nuts, swings,
and attractions of all sorts ; a roaring trade was
going on. On Saturday morning I strolled over
the same ground, and all had vanished. Only
a few swings remained, and these were carefully
tied up, so as not to be played with in the
absence of the proprietors.
On Monday morning, Bank Holiday, I again
visited the same scene, now, as if by magic, all
and a good deal more had returned. From the
railway station, all the way up the hill, past the
Vale of Health, and up to the Spaniards Road
near the flagstaff, the road was lined with long
ON BANK HOLIDAY. 15
sheets fixed on poles, forming a background for
numberless cocoa-nut shies, and the play was
fast and furious. Besides these cocoa-nut con-
tests, what grand sights we saw as we pressed
through the crowd. Here was on view "the
largest rat that ever was seen," and " two
wonderful four-horned sheep, bred on the rugged
mountains, imported by a well-known nobleman ;
very fierce animals, they have been known to
kill human beings." Then comes "the mascu-
line-feminine-gender girl, who was born with a
most beautiful cranium orifice." I don't quite
know what a " cranium orifice " is, but assuming
that one may take the whole human head as a
cranium, then doubtless the " orifice " may be
taken as the beautiful maiden's mouth but this
is wild conjecture. After this is to be seen
" Madame Leonie, the fattest woman in the
world ; she travelled in the United States with
Barnum's show." Close by is the American
game of baseball, which, it seems, means throw-
ing balls at the head of a living nigger. This
nigger enjoys the fun. His head is protruded
through a small aperture in a wooden frame, and
the fun, at three shies a penny, is to hit his thick
head with an indiarubber ball. " Play up, gents,"
he shouts, "twenty can shie at me at once, the
more the merrier." There are more misses than
hits, and he dodges the hits cleverly, so as to
receive them on his crown rather than his nose.
16 HAMPSTEAD HEATH
Of course, refreshments abound on all sides,
but, above all (and this may be interesting to
anglers), the air is scented, if not embalmed,
with the fragrant odours of frying fish, cooked
in rivers of fat over charcoal fires truly giving
forth " an ancient and a fish-like smell."
Swings by the thousand abound all along the
line. In one of them I saw, or thought I saw,
an old friend enjoying the fun like a young sky-
lark. " Up to the sky go we, go we ! " he
seemed to be singing, and up to the highest
height the swing would reach went he. Down
again, and up again, his bald head gleaming in
the air, his rosy countenance a picture of happi-
ness, and his velveteen coat flaps enjoying the
flight. I thought my old friend had gone a-fish-
ing up the Thames. It is just possible that I
may have been mistaken, after all, for my sight
is not as good as it was.
The steam " merry go-round " at the Vale of
Health was kept merrily going all day, and the
owner must have made a mint o' money.
Then there were machines for athletes to test
their strength by striking a wedge with a beetle
or heavy sledge hammer, which sent an indicator
up a slotted pole to a number, which told the
relative strength of the competitors.
And so I squeezed through the crowd till I
came to the most wonderful sight of all, but it
did not seem to obtain the patronage it deserved.
ON BANK HOLIDA Y. 17
It was a show which contained a monster de-
scribed as an animal partly man and partly pig.
The showman was savage at the stupidity of the
passers by. " If," says he, " it was some machine
wrought by the hand of man, you would rush to
see it ; but here is not the work of man ; it is
the work of Nature ; it is far more man than pig.
A well educated and most intelligent young man
you will find him. Go in for one penny, and
you will see one of the most remarkable freaks
that Nature ever produced."
I may say that, not caring to be " disillu-
sionised," I preferred taking the pictures and
statements made outside as correct, without
further investigation.
Much as I rejoice in the wild enjoyment of my
fellow owners of this beautiful heath on this
lovely April day, I am not sorry when I get
through the throng of merry makers and reach
the Spaniards Road. The West Heath was not
crowded with visitors ; it had no attractions in
the way of shows and swings and cocoa-nut shies.
Still it was well studded here and there with
mooning young couples and groups of youths and
maidens playing at "kiss in the ring."
Angling in the Hampstead ponds being for-
bidden, owing to the close time, from March to
June, that favourite resort of young and old
cockney anglers, the Leg of Mutton pond, was
quite deserted.
c
i8 HAMPSTEAD HEATH
What a very singular aquatic bird is the moor-
hen. Down our rivers one cannot approach him
within a hundred yards but he dives and is off
like a shot ; now here, on this Leg of Mutton
pond, a pair of moorhens reared a brood last year,
and here I see them now, as tame as barn-door
ducks, and yet this pond is a sort of pandemonium
for dogs and boys. The birds, it is true, keep
to the knuckle end of the pond, amongst the
coverts of sedge weeds, and there they seem to be
quite unscared by boys or dogs.
I supposed that I was the only angler in that
great throng for who, if he could help it, would
choose charms even such as I have tried to de-
scribe, rather than wanderings by pleasant rivers ?
and yet to my astonishment, as I sauntered
quietly up the hill, my ears were assailed by a
shout, "Hollo, 'Amateur Angler'! how are
you?" Surely it was Vox et prccterea nihil .'
unless indeed it proceeded from the stentorian
lungs of " Red Spinner," for on turning round I
caught sight of the back of him spinning down
the hill at a speed of twenty miles an hour on a
bicycle. The delights of cycling must be near
akin to angling when such an expert on such a
day prefers the former to the latter.
I did not count the owners who came to visit
their Heath to-day ; I am therefore unable to
say within a few thousands how many there may
have been ; if I may be allowed to guess, I
ON BANK HOLIDAY. 19
should say the number could not be less than
two hundred thousand.
How they came, and how they vanished, is a
mystery ; but this may truly be said of them, so
far as my observation went, and I spent four
hours on the ground, they were, considering
their numbers, the most orderly, peaceful, law
abiding crowd that ever assembled. Surely
they presented a fine example of the benefits
conferred on the people by the education derived
from Board Schools. In fact, if one wanted to
be captious, one might almost complain that
they seemed to be too good. There was really
nothing for the police to do. Think of the
glories of Hampstead Heath and the other
heaths around London a hundred years ago,
and look at them now.
' ' Are the days then gone when on Hounslow Heath
We flashed our nags ?
When the stoutest bosoms quailed beneath
The voice of Bags ?
Ne'er was my work half undone, lest
I should be nabbed ;
Slow was old Bags, but he never ceased
Till the whole was grabbed. "
Paul Clifford.
Let it not be supposed for a moment that I
think that those blood-stirring old times were
better than the mild excitements of to-day. But
let us think of the difference to these people
20 HAMPSTEAD HEATH.
between a fine April day, as this Easter Monday
has been, and how that immense throng would
have fared on a pouring rainy day. I am sure
this has been a happy day both for sightseers
and those who provided the sights ; many bushels
full of coppers must have been exchanged
between them, and all retired to their homes in
the far away east and south full of happy ex-
periences which will last them to rejoice over for
many months to come.
CHAPTER III.
"TALES FROM THE TELLING HOUSE." l
T is not necessary to introduce the
author of " Lorna Doone " to my
readers. His great romance is known
wherever the English language is
spoken ; it has become an English classic, and
ranks with the best productions of the best
writers of romance of the century. As Sir Walter
Scott was called the " Wizard of the North," so
has R. D. Blackmore been called the "Wizard
of the West," for this applies to all the other
writings of the same author. It may be in a
less degree, for " Lorna Doone " has taken a
hold upon all classes of readers, and in quarters
where works of imagination are not usually
much esteemed. You hear its merits discussed
on the top of four-horse coaches coachman
1 " Tales from the Telling House." By R. D. Black-
more, author of " Lorna Doone."
22 "TALES FROM THE
and guard know all about it. You will find it in
the cottages of the West, where it is treasured
as a work, constantly read and remembered.
" Lorna Doone " to a Devonshire man is as
good as clotted cream, almost. 1 And yet there
are characters, incidents, thrilling adventures,
lovely descriptions of picturesque scenes prob-
ing with a magic touch the very heart of nature
to be found in every one of Mr. Blackmore's
romances. What thrilling one might almost
say blood-curdling incidents are to be found in
" Clara Vaughan." What bright humour and
droll pictures in " Cripps the Carrier." What
strange adventures in " Cradock Nowell,"
" Christowell," " Alice Lorraine," and " Mary
Anerley," and the rest of them. And the last,
" Perlycross," equals the best.
Anglers all should feel a special and particular
interest in all Mr. Blackmore's books, for in
nearly all of them will be found, interspersed
with matter of more dramatic character, many
very agreeable bits of angling adventures, de-
scribed in a way no angling writer has ever yet
surpassed.
Even in the tragic story " Slain by the
Doones," which is the first of four stories under
the general title "Tales from the Telling
House," ' 2 Mr. Sylvester Ford, the fine old Eng-
1 Preface to " Lorna Doone," 6th edit.
- "The 'Telling-houses' on the moor are rude cots
TELLING HOUSE." 23
lish gentleman, who met with such a tragic fate
at the hands of the ruthless Doones, was an
ardent angler. His daughter, who tells the sad
story, relates that " with a fishing rod made by
himself, and a basket strapped over his shoulder
... he set off in the highest spirits, as anglers
always seem to do, to balance the state in which
they shall return."
His Sylvia waited, alas, in vain for his return.
" But the shadows of the trees grew darker,
and the song of the gray-bird died out among
them, and the silent wings of the owl swept by,
and all the mysterious sounds of night in the
depth of forest loneliness, and the glimmer of a
star through the leaves here and there, to tell us
that there still was light in heaven ; but of
an earthly father not a sign ; only pain, and
long sighs, and deep sinking of the heart."
The squire and his daughter lived all by
themselves in a wood, and trees were the only
creatures near them some five or six miles
from the Doones' Valley. The good squire,
notwithstanding the bad reputation of these
gentlemanly Doones, scorned the idea that men
of birth could ever behave like savages. No
gentleman would ever dream of attacking an
unarmed man, he thought, and so he resolved to
fish the brook which ran away from their strong -
where the shepherds meet to ' tell ' their sheep at the end
of the pasturing season." Lorna Doom.
24 "TALES FROM THE
hold, believing that he may see some of them
and have a peaceful interview. And so he wan-
dered through the woods till he came upon the
Badgery water, taking with him Dick Hutchings.
The boy, who was the only witness of what
happened, related how
" Squire had catched a tidy few, and he
seemed well pleased with himself, and then we
came to a sort of a hollow place where one
brook floweth into the other. Here was a cast-
ing of his fly, most careful, for if there was ever
a trout on the feed, it was like to be a big one.
Lucky for me, I was keeping round the corner,
when a kingfisher bird flew along like a string-
bolt, and there were three great men coming
round a fuzz-bush.
" ' Ho, fellow ! ' one of them called out to
squire, ' who give thee leave to fish in our
river ? '
" ' Open moor,' says squire, ' and belongeth to
the King, if it belongeth to anybody. Any of
you gentlemen hold his Majesty's warrant to
forbid an old officer of his ? ' "
This put them in a dreadful rage, and they
requested him to give up his spoil. The squire
walked up from the pebbles at that and stood
before the three of them.
" ' You be young men, but I am old ; neverthe-
less, I will not be robbed by three or by thirty of
you. If you be cowards enough, come on.' "
TELLING HOUSE." 25
Then the cowards attacked him ; one of them
he slew with the butt end of his fishing rod, and
then one of them ran a long blade into squire,
"and there he was a lying as straight as a
lath, with the end of his white beard as red as a
rose."
Then comes a most vivid account of a con-
certed attack on the Doones by the Devon and
Somerset heroes, led on by Colonel Jeremy
Stickles. They had mounted their culverins on
opposite heights above the Doone Valley, with
the intention of pounding the Doones therefrom,
when suddenly " An elderly gentleman of great
authority appeared among the Somerset Bom-
bardiers. On his breast he wore a badge of
office, and in his hat a noble plume of the
sea eagle, and he handed his horse to a man in
red clothes.
" ' Just in time,' he shouted, ' and the Lord be
thanked for that ! By order of his Majesty I take
supreme command. Ha, and high time for it.
You idiots ! Where are you pointing your guns ?
what allowance have you made for windage ?
Why, at that elevation you'll shoot yourselves.
Up with your muzzles, you yellow jackanapes !
Down on your bellies ! Hand me the linstock !
By the Lord, you don't even know how to touch
them off ! '"
This was no other than Councillor Doone
himself. He had pointed the gun right into the
26 "TALES FROM THE
Devonshire men on the opposite bank, who
promptly returned the fire, the result being that
young Captain Purvis was hit in the breast by a
flat-bottomed bottle, and was carried wounded
into Miss Sylvia Ford's cottage. She nursed
him so well, and felt such pity for his weakness,
" until when the tray came out of his room soon
after one of those pitiful moments, it was plain
. . . that the young man had left very little upon
a shoulder of Exmoor mutton, and nothing in a
bowl of thick onion sauce ; " after such treat-
ment, what could he do but fall in love with
her?
Readers of " Lorna Doone " will remember
that tremendously exciting scene where John
Ridd, by the aid of Gwenny Carfax, rescued
Lorna from them. It was a considerable time
after that event that this tragedy happened to
the squire a story, " every word of which is
true, and the stoutest writer of history cannot
make less cf it by denial." Carver Doone had
lost his Lorna through the might of John Ridd.
He had heard of the beauty of Sylvia, and had
determined to carry her off to replace his lost
Lorna, and now that he had brutally murdered
her father, he made a fiendish attack upon the
daughter by breaking into her house at mid-
night. How her house was stormed, and how
heroically defended, I will leave readers to find
out. That, and the subsequent carrying off the
TELLING HOUSE." 27
young lady, her release by young Purvis, " as
fine a young trooper as ever drew sword," and
the battle on a saddle-backed bridge in a deep
wooded glen, with roaring water under it in
which John Ridd, with a staff like the stem of a
young oak tree, fought like a giant, is about as
brilliant a bit of descriptive writing as was ever
penned in history or fiction.
One distinguishing characteristic of all Mr.
Blackmore's writings is that they will bear re-
peated readings. If read a first time in a
hurried and breathless way for the purpose of
following up and unravelling the plot, you will
be astonished on a second and more deliberate
reading to note how much of real beauty of
style and language has been overlooked. You
will find nothing commonplace or slipshod any-
where. Every sentence has been carefully
thought out and constructed, and the result is
a. charm of rhythm which brightens even the
least interesting theme.
" Frida ; or, the Lover's Leap, a Legend of
the West Country," of the time of Charles I., is
the next story- a story full of pathetic interest
which will repay more than one reading on
account of its tragic termination, the interest of
its story, and the poetry of its prose. The Baron
de Wichehalse, around whom and his daughter
the story centres, was doubtless an ancestor of
the Count de Wichehalse who figures largely
28 "TALES FROM THE
both in " Lorna Doone " and in " Slain by the
Doones." A recent writer has called it " One of
the saddest tales of woman's love and man's
leaving that has ever been written.'''
The next story, " George Bowring," is one of
modern life, and tells how the teller of the story
and his friend, George Bowring, took a holiday
trip into Wales, the one an angler, the other an
artist. They found themselves at length at a
village called Aber Aydyr, lying under Cader
Idris. Here they halted, the one to sketch, and
the other to fish.
" Here George put his rod together, and I
heard the click of reel as he drew the loop at the
end of the line through the rings, and I heard
him cry ' Chut ! ; as he took his flies from his
Scotch cap and found a tangle ; and I saw the
glistening of his rod, as the sunshine pierced
the valley, and then his tall, straight figure pass
the corner of a crag that stood as upright as a
tombstone, and after that no more of any live
and bright George Bowring."
Then the teller tells how poor G. B. was found
dead, and how the murderer was discovered
twenty years after.
Lastly we come to a real fishing story, and
one whose brightness and sparkle, and true
sportsmanlike description could only have been
written by an accomplished scholar and a man
of infinite wit and humour. Read it quietly and
TELLING HOUSE." 29
carefully, my friends, and do not hasten on to
discover whether that big trout was ever pulled
out of " Crocker's Hole." You will pick up
many a gem of thought and expression ; many
a bit of subtle humour, which in a hasty perusal
you would miss. Let me tell you again this
little book, " Tales from the Telling House," is
one to be taken up when you want to be restful
and quiet. Take it to a cosy corner and you
will find it soothing and pleasant, always piquant
and fresh, and never commonplace. It comes
from the pen of a master hand. I will not spoil
your pleasure by further quotation or comment.
I leave you to wander with young Pike in the
Devonshire valleys and along the banks of the
Culm, and find out the many schemes of this
youngster, and whether he succeeded or not in
catching that big trout in " Crocker's Hole."
CHAPTER IV.
SALISBURY PLAIN AND THE VALLEY OF THE
AVON.
May, 1896.
" Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep,
Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy
To kings that fear their subjects' treachery."
King Henry V.
F in my childhood I ever read that
wonderful story by Hannah More,
" The Shepherd of Salisbury Plain,"
I am ashamed to say that I have for-
gotten all about it ; but I have lately been across
a large part of Salisbury Plain, and have seen
many a shepherd and many thousands of sheep ;
and a pretty sight it is, to see a thousand sheep
just released from their pen on the top of the
Downs on a hot afternoon rushing helter-skelter
do\vn the steep hillsides to the water ; a scene
which occurs daily, but which, seen for the first
VALLEY OF THE AVON. 31
time, seems quite an exciting and picturesque
feature in the landscape. The shepherds are a
stalwart race of men, as good, I'll warrant, all
of 'em, as the particularly good man immortalized
by Hannah More.
To pleasure seekers, and all such as care for
nothing but their own special amusement, this
present month of May must have been wonder-
fully attractive ; it derived from April a fair
amount of moisture, for
" April showers prepare the way for May flowers,"
and up to the middle of the month the meadows
have preserved a pleasant degree of lush verdure,
and plenty of buttercups and daisies ; but now
are the croakers beginning to croak, and predict
a droughty summer, and lament over it before
it comes.
I must own myself to be among the pleasure
seekers. A cordial, genial invitation to run down
and fish the Wiltshire Avon fetched me at once
right off my office stool, and sent me one day
last week away by rail and road to attractive,
pretty Amesbury. Thereby flows the pleasant
Avon. That pleasant river has a great reputa-
tion for the abundance and size of its trout, as
all you anglers know ; and my genial host is the
happy possessor of three miles of it. Your i Ib.
or ^ Ib. trout is there looked upon as nought.
Notwithstanding the drought of the last fortnight
32 SALISBURY PLAIN AND THE
or three weeks, water was plentiful, and weeds
abundant. I cannot boast of the rise, for the
big trout were otherwise engaged ; but, as we
all know, the smaller the rise of fish the greater
the skill of the angler who can fill his basket.
It is not for me to boast. I will not needlessly
proclaim what I did under circumstances such
as I have foreshadowed. After all, what matters
it whether you catch a few trout or many.
What angler wants to know any more than he
already knows about the kicking, and niggling,
and splashing, and dashing of a big trout when
you have got him by the lip ?
I will only say about our fishing that we had
a most delightful time. The scenery is enchant-
ing ; the meadows are green and yellow ; " the
earth is sown with flowers " ; chestnuts in full
bloom ; hedgerows white with hawthorn blos-
som ; birds singing their best songs ; all nature
alive, and bright, and gay ; the big trout could
be seen in the clear water, floundering about the
bottom of deep pools, but rarely casting a look
upwards to the feast we set floating above them.
The Major may be seen there, sitting on a log,
the picture of patience, waiting for a rise, which
seldom came ; but when an odd trout here and
there bubbled up to the top his deadly betrayer
was over him, and he came to grass and to
grief.
Amesbury, as you know, is situated in a beauti-
VALLEY OF THE AVON. 33
ful vale on the edge of Salisbury Plain, and the
attractions of its surroundings are not limited to
angling. The willow beds on the river are the
haunts of many birds ; there I caught a glimpse
of a pair of butcher birds, quite new to me. Our
good host told us that he had seen a pair of them
surrounded by their young family. On the haw-
thorn spikes around their nest were impaled
numberless insects a sort of butcher's shop,
where provisions were laid in, with wonderful
instinct, for a rainy day. Bewick says it fre-
quently preys on young birds, which it seizes by
the throat, and after strangling fixes them on a
sharp thorn ; it likewise feeds on grasshoppers,
beetles, and other insects.
Another curious scene described to us by our
observant friend was one which indicates the
strategic capacity of ducks. He saw a flock of
about twenty of these intelligent birds spread
themselves out in a semicircle across the stream.
They then commenced to make a tremendous
flapping with their wings, their necks stretched
out, and swimming rapidly towards the shore.
In this way they drove before them shoals of
minnows right up to the gravel. Then they had
a fine feast and " the band played ! " Was ever
such a scene witnessed before ?
" And last the little minnow-fish,
Whose chief delight the gravel is."
WM. BROWNE.
D
34 SALISBURY PLAIN AND THE
One day we took a delightful drive for ten miles
northwards, skirting the downs on our left, with
the valley of the Avon on our right, through the
pretty villages of Figeldean, Nether Avon, to
Up Avon ; the road on our right lined with elms
and beeches, amongst the green leaves of which
were gorgeous golden laburnums and rich red
and white May blossoms. On our return from
Nether Avon we struck across the plain, and had
a glorious five miles' drive over the heather till
we came to that marvellous mystery of gigantic
stones, known the world over as Stonehenge.
I am not going to describe Stonehenge that
has already been done scores of times or to tell
how, why, or when it came to be where it is. I
do not, because I cannot ; an immense amount of
archaeological skill and antiquarian lore has been
expended on these marvellous stones, but they
have steadily refused to betray the secret of their
origin.
Mr. Edgar Barclay has recently published a
most interesting and learned volume, under the
title of " Stonehenge and its Earthworks." In this
volume he has embodied and sifted all that has
ever been written on the subject, and has accom-
panied his studies with many very elaborate
diagrams, and those who are interested in this
extraordinary work of our stalwart predecessors
on this island will find in this volume an
exhaustive account of all the theories of all
STONEHENGE (THE TRIL1THON).
VALLEY OF THE AVON 35
previous investigators, as well as practical tests
and measurements of his own. His ground plan
of Stonehenge restored shows that the design
consisted of an outer circle of thirty uprights,
supporting twenty-eight traverse stones or lin-
tels ; then there is an inner circle of smaller
uprights, and within those, two horse-shoe forms
of stones. In the inner horse-shoe is an enormou,s
slab called the Altar.
These giant stones are all that now remain,
but who knows that they were not once covered
over and the interspaces filled in with some
perishable material ? If you pay a visit to
Stonehenge on June 2ist, and stand on the
south-western side at three o'clock in the morn-
ing, and looking between a trilithon of stones
at the back of the Altar Stone, and through
another opening on the opposite side of the
circle, the point of sunrise will be seen over the
tip of what is called the Sun Stone, placed
about 100 feet beyond the outer circle. In front
of this Sun Stone is an enormous stone lying
flat, which is called the Slaughter Stone, on
which the victims were sacrificed. That great
Sun Stone, 16 feet high, and standing alone,
and slightly bending forwards and looking to-
wards the temple, its back to the rising sun,
looked, as we drove across the plain, exactly
like the figure of an enormous Druid priest
or monk. One could almost realize the flow
36 SALISBURY PLAIN AND THE
of a magnificent beard, and the shape of the
arms beneath the graceful folds of a long
cloak.
Here it was, in this "forest of monoliths
grouped upon the grassy expanse of plain," that
" Tess of the D'Urbervilles " found a brief refuge
from her pursuers. She had flung herself upon
an oblong slab that was sheltered from the wind
by a pillar evidently the slab known as the
Altar Stone and there she slept, " till the light
grew strong, and a ray shone upon her uncon-
scious form, peering under her eyelids and
waking her " ; and then they marched her off
to her doom.
The net result of all speculative inquiry seems
to be that Stonehenge may possibly not be of
the vast antiquity by many authorities attributed
to it, that it is not as old as the many barrows
surrounding it, and that it is not altogether of
Druidical origin. The prevailing opinion seems
to be that it belongs to the fourth century A.D.,
and was erected as a memorial of what is called
"The Amesbury Massacre." About the year
A.D. 429, Hengest the Saxon prepared an enter-
tainment, to which he invited the British king,
nobles, and officers, to the number of about
three hundred. Then, concealing his wicked
intention, he ordered three hundred Saxons to
conceal each a knife under his foot, and to mix
with the Britons, and when they were sufficiently
V 'ALLEY OF THE AVON. 37
inebriated, he ordered each man to draw his
knife and kill his man.
I will only further remark that this extra-
ordinary assemblage of monster rocks could
only have been brought together by giants of
the olden time, whether by Druids in prehistoric
time or by Britons and Romans at a later period ;
and could hardly have been erected, at such an
enormous cost, merely to commemorate such a
massacre as this ; they must have been erected
for some more needful purpose. Stonehenge is
truly worthy of a long pilgrimage, if the result
be only to excite one's awe and wonder. It is
only a pleasant walk of two miles from Ames-
bury village to this unique and ancient mystery.
Salisbury Plain is prolific in hares we saw
numbers of them in our drive across the plain
and I was glad to note this, and also the great
number of skylarks scattered all over the downs,
because elsewhere both hares and larks are said
to be growing scarce.
I would fain close my rambling notes with a
word in recognition of the hospitality of our
good friend who found for us this fine oppor-
tunity for a spring outing, such as we who are
denizens of a great city know how to appreciate.
CHAPTER V.
MAY FLY FISHING ON THE ITCHEN (1896).
]RIDAY, May 22, 1896, was the day on
which I had the first intimation that
the May Fly was up, but this was not
a proper use of the word, for on per-
ambulating our bit of the Itchen from one end
of our tether to the other, we saw perhaps one
May Fly sailing or being blown down stream or
clean off the water once in 200 or 300 yards.
It seemed useless to fish with the May Fly.
The Alder brought me in a good if Ib. trout
and a brace of grayling, which had to go
back.
May 23. This was a fine, dull day. Wind,
north-west. Fish taking every May Fly that
came up, but these were only intermittent. I did
a fair day's work, and was satisfied.
May 24 (Sunday). A charming day. Fish
taking May Fly in peace and quietness, un-
MA Y FL Y FISHING ON THE ITCH EN. 39
terrified by shadow of man or rod or barb-
winged imitation.
May 25. A fine day with strong wind. May
Fly intermittent, but all taken. We captured
between us five brace of trout besides many
grasping grayling, which had to go back for
autumn reminders.
May 26. A similar day, and our taking was
similar.
May 27 and 28. I may say ditto.
May 29 (Friday). A memorable day bright,
genial, warm. May Fly up on river and meadow
in something like the old-fashioned style, but
what was most remarkable, was the undoubted
fact that trout were not taking them. They
would not, and could not, be lured by any
imitation of May Fly or any natural fly that
floated and yet they were greedily disturbing
rather than rising above the water. What did
it mean ? Our theory was that they were
gorging themselves with the May Fly larvae
(just when the final ecdysis occurs), snatching
each insect before it came to the surface and
completely got rid of its grubby shell.
We were four of us, and amongst us at least
three as accomplished fly casters as may often
be seen together (I say nothing of the fourth,
" The A. A."). We tried a variety of May Fly
imitations, chief amongst them the G.O.M.
We tried Alder, Ginger Quill, Duns of various
40 MAY FLY FISHING ON THE ITCH EN.
hues, but I am compelled in truth to say that
during the whole of that lovely day, though we
toiled like men, hungry and starving, we came
home with " a beggarly account of" empty
baskets. Not a fish would come at us.
May 30 (Saturday). My last day for May
Fly, 1896. I did fairly well, but the rise seemed
almost over, though I hear since that on the
three days following there was still a rise of
May Fly, and that fish were taking the spent
fly.
I know that my experience does not go for
much amongst anglers, but I have thought it
just worth while briefly to record my doings. I
should say, on the whole, that it has been
about as bad a season for May Fly fishing as
we have had for some years. It came on quite
ten days earlier than is usual on our water, and
seemingly in too straggling and uncertain a way
wholly to attract and absorb the attention of our
well-fed trout, although it was most noticeable
that when a big trout was thoroughly aroused
from his lethargy how eagerly he would rush at
every fly that came within a roving distance of
his lair.
With reference to the May Fly, it had been
maintained by a distinguished connoisseur in all
matters pertaining to angling, that neither trout
nor grayling care a fico for the mere colour of
your "imitation" and he suggested for a
MAY FLY FISHING ON THE ITCH EN. 41
change that a May Fly dyed pink or deep red
might prove a brilliant attraction for the gay
old stagers in our deep pools.
Accordingly I put this theory to a practical
test. I put on my collar a May Fly of a brilliant
red colour. I tried it for an hour or more
placing it as seductively as possible over many
a rising fish and I am bound to say that my
experience does not justify me in recommending
for general use this singular departure from the
more modest colour with which Nature usually
paints her May Flies.
You who are accustomed to watch the action
of fish in a stream have, of course, noticed that
dart-like and diagonal disturbance of the water
which a big trout makes when you startle him
from the bank on which you may be walking.
Well ! No sooner had my red fly come over
this rising fish than similar dart-like streaks
could be seen in every direction. This fiery
demon of a fly was a conspicuous object on the
water for many yards around. Not only would
my particular trout bolt like a shot, but every
other fish in his immediate neighbourhood
would make similar tracks !
This, you will please to understand, was a
scientific experiment, and from it I am led to
conclude that both trout and grayling, and
possibly many another kind of fish, can not only
distinguish flies by their natural colours, but
42 MAY FLY FISHING ON THE ITCH EN.
that of all the seven prismatic colours red is that
which scares them like the very deuce.
Green Drake and Yellow Drake and Gray
Drake they take most kindly to but I am well
assured, from actual experience, that Pink or
Red Drake they cannot and will not stand !
Notwithstanding the fact that our lines were
not so frequently tightened nor our baskets so
heavy as a genuine May Fly rise leads one to
expect, I am bound to say I had a very pleasant
week. Our straw-thatched hut at the corner of
our water, under the shadow of a lovely haw-
thorn in full bloom, is truly a pleasant retreat
for peaceful rest after the hard work of toiling
down to it. There one can sit and watch up
stream for rising fish ; there it was that I saw a
big banker fifty yards up absorb a May Fly with
the slightest motion possible. It was a long and
difficult cast up stream against wind and bank,
but I came down upon him nicely. He seized
my fly promptly, and led me a lively dance for
about ten minutes ; but at last he made a dash
under a ledge deep under the bank, from which
nothing would move him. At length my hold
loosened, and he went away in triumph with my
fly and a bit of gut fast in his mouth. A few days
after, " Piscator Major" wrote to me that he had
caught my two-pounder, with my fly and gut
still in him, to prove his identity ! I think it
quite too bad. That trout might, more happily
At AY FLY FISHING ON THE ITCH EN. 43
both for himself and me, have come straight
into my basket last week he would have been
saved much tickling and worry in his mouth
and I should have been proud of him. Of course
I claimed the fly.
CHAPTER VI.
"ANIMALS AT WORK AND PLAY THEIR
ACTIVITIES AND EMOTIONS." 1
N old friend offered the other day to
make me a present of a beautiful
Scotch terrier, a pup of the purest
breed, whose value in coin of the
realm was represented by many sovereigns. I
was touched by the offer, and would fain have
accepted him, but the reflection was forced upon
me, if I do accept him, what can I do with him ?
I live in a small suburban pill-box on the top
of a hill ; it is surrounded by a charming flower
garden, which is the admiration and, I think,
the envy of all my neighbours, and I am proud
of it. But the architect, in planning the premises,
made no allowance or accommodation for the
keep of a dog. There is no back yard or stable
yard. It is true I might build for him a little
wooden house down at the bottom of the
Hy ('. J. Cornish. London : Seeley and Co., Limited.
"ANIMALS AT WORK AND PLAY." 45
garden, and chain him up there. But there are
several objections to that plan. In the first
place, what is the good of having a dog if he
must be always chained up out of your sight ? I
hate to chain up a dog, to say nothing of the
fact that a spirited animal would resent such
treatment ; he would yelp all day and howl all
night ; and so perhaps bring about, if not a law-
suit, at least a breach of the harmony which
should exist between neighbours.
It so happens that we have in the centre of
our lawn a lovely bed of begonias the shiest,
the tenderest, the sweetest of all flowers, to my
thinking. After much coaxing and tending we
have persuaded them to show up their colours
above the green leaves. Their lovely tinted,
wax-like cupolas are supported on the most
brittle stems, and generally the broad, coarse
leaves are spread over them to protect them
from all winds, just as a hen spreads her wings
over her chickens. These lovely little flowers
seem as if they were born to blush unseen ; but
when they do come out, as they are out now
in my bed, they are, for richness and delicacy
and variety of tints, far beyond all the other
flowers in my little parterre.
Now you may be quite sure that some day or
other that little terrier pup would break loose,
and the very first thing he would do would be
to make a dash through my bed of begonias
46 "ANIMALS AT WORK AND PLAY
and one dash would do for them. Geraniums
and fuschias and such like can stand a little
rough usage of a dog-like nature, but the fragile-
stemmed, delicate begonia would be snapped
off at once by swish of tail or tread of foot. The
next thing that dog would do would be to bite
the butcher boy, or the newspaper boy, or the
milkman, and so render me liable to a heavy
fine, and last of all he would dash off like mad
into the street without a muzzle ; he would be
taken up by the police, and carried off to the
Dogs' Home. There they would starve him for
a few days, then give him a dose of prussic acid,
and so would end the life of that lively little
terrier pup. No, my dear good friend ! I am
truly obliged to you, but I regret that for his
own sake I must not accept your interesting
present !
A young lady friend of mine once had a
beautiful " Pomeranian " spaniel ; she loved, nay,
she adored that dog. Truly to look at he was
one of the prettiest creatures that ever was seen.
His long white hair as white as milk and as soft as
silk ; his dark, bright, beautiful, intelligent eyes ;
his graceful head and his curly tail, made him a
thing to be admired ; but that dog was hated
by everyone but his mistress, and the more they
hated the more she adored him. He was de-
ceitful above all dogs, and desperately wicked.
The school children in the streets fled at the
THEIR ACTIVITIES AND EMOTIONS." 47
very sight of him. He had his likes and his dis-
likes. To me he was generally civil, at least
he never bit me. His greatest aversion, perhaps,
was the postman, who wouldn't come near the
house till he knew he was locked up. The
parson he didn't like at all, and once tore off
the skirt of his coat. He seized a young lady
by the heel and tore off her slipper. The doctor
he pretended to like, but once suddenly seized
him by the hand and tore the flesh to the
bone. At length things came to such a pitch,
he had bitten so many people, that threats
of actions at law came pouring in, and some-
thing had to be done. So he was sent to a
dog dentist, several of his teeth were drawn,
others broken or filed down, and his mistress
mourned for him sorely. At last he came back
home, much humbled, but as deceitful and
vicious as ever. He still did all he could to bite
people and to frighten children. Still his mis-
tress loved him. During her absence from
home for a day or two he died suddenly of
spasms ; and she wept and bemoaned him
bitterly.
Really, Mr. Cornish, I must apologize. The
very title of your book, " Animals at Work and
Play," started me off in the wrong direction. I
meant to have devoted time and space to your
fascinating book ; but it does not much matter.
The very title is enough to attract all lovers of
4 8 "ANIMALS AT WORK AND PLAY
natural history to the book, and when they have
once got it in hand they will not part company
with it easily. Besides, I had no thought of
writing a critique upon it. I am not a professed
naturalist or a professed critic. I am content
to take your stories about quadrupeds and
bipeds, birds, beasts, and fishes ; to read them
and be amused, like other people, and not to
question your accuracy about this or that.
It is very amusing to learn how animals make
their beds ; how they sleep and make their
toilettes ; how they love and how they hate ; how
they play, and what a curious sense of humour
they often display. It is surely interesting to
be told by a patient and quick observer what
animals do in rain ; how birds are lost in storms :
" Sweating Bees," " Animals in Sickness,"
" Dangerous Animals in Europe," " Sanctuary of
Wild Birds," " The Animal View of Captivity,"
etc. These are some of the chapter headings.
A philosopher made a grand discovery the other
day, that human beings, from Adam to this end
of the nineteenth century, had been lying abed
the wrong way ; instead of sleeping with their
heads on their pillows, the proper thing to do,
according to him, is to put their feet there and
their heads away down where the feet used to be.
This way of sleeping is said to be a perfect cure
for insomnia and many other ills to which mis-
taken humanity has hitherto been subject. Why
THEIR ACTIVITIES AND EMOTIONS." 49
in this respect have we not long ago taken a
lesson from the badger ? Mr. Cornish informs us :
" The badger takes a quantity of grass in to
make its bed in the winter, and removes this
when he comes out more freely in the spring.
But the oddest fancy of the badger in bed is that
it achta/ly sleeps on its head. This is true in any
case of one of the Zoo badgers. Twice when
the straw in which he buries himself has been
removed, the writer has seen him, not curled
upon his side, but with the top of his flat head
on the ground, and the rest of his body curled
over it, as if it had fallen asleep in the middle of
turning head over heels."
This no doubt fully explains the general health-
fulness of the badger, and accounts for its
longevity. It is probably the only living creature
that has preserved this original law of nature.
But is there not some trace of it still left in
humanity ? How is it that human beings in the
tadpole stage are so fond of standing on their
heads instead of their feet, till the tendency has
been smacked out of them ? Our philosopher
above mentioned had probably discovered the
secret of the badger, and from it deduced the new
pillow theory as a stage in the right direction.
It would be easy to quote page after page from
this interesting book, but that would be unfair
to the author. Perhaps the most interesting
chapter to anglers is the one on "The Invisible
5 o "ANIMALS AT WORK AND PLAY
Food of Fishes." It appears that oatmeal given
to oysters to fatten them has just the opposite
effect, and causes them to lose weight and die,
and flour soon poisons them, whilst " the typhoid
bacillus is destroyed by passing through the
oyster's alimentary canal," which is good news
for the owner of oyster beds. What was until
recently thought to be the principal food of river
fishes now appears to play only a limited part in
their maintenance, and the common fisherman's
view, that river fishes work hard for their living,
and subsist mainly on worms and grubs, with a
change to May Fly in the season, and occasional
feasts of ground bait and paste, is almost as far
removed from fact as the showman's description
of the elephant's diet as consisting mainly of
cakes.
It seems to have been a problem hitherto un-
explained as to what non-carniverous fish, from
the whale to the pilchard or herring, could pos-
sibly find to live on in seas apparently barren of
all kinds of food. The explanation is that :
" The microscopic creatures which are in parts
of the Atlantic massed so thickly in the water as
to discolour the surface, and give abundant food
for the whale, are present, not so thickly, but in
numbers comparable to motes in the air, in all
parts of the sea. For the purposes of the herring
and the pilchard, and countless other shell fish
and zoophytes, the upper waters of the sea are
THEIR ACTIVITIES AND EMOTIONS." 51
in fact a nutritive soup teeming with food exactly
suited to their need. These microscopic creatures
are the basis of all the larger life of the ocean,
and in a great degree of the growth and increase
of fresh water fishes. Some of these tiny creatures
are water-fleas, others like carpaced shrimps . . .
and are of prodigious fecundity. ... In rivers
they are almost the sole food of all young fish,
and probably the main resource of the older fish
when other supplies fail. In the first days of
spring the creatures in every stage eggs, larvae,
and perfect though microscopic entomostraca
swarm in the water, on the mud, and on the
foliage of the water plants. At such times even
trout feed mainly on them . . . they are then
said to be tailing}' 1
We all know what tailing means from an
angler's point of view. Let the day be ever so
promising, the wind in the right quarter, and
insects abundant on the surface, if a trout is
tailing you might as well pack up and go home.
" They are eating the weed bare of the cling-
ing film of microscopic larvae, of water- fleas,
cyclops, and other fresh water entomostraca. . . .
Experiments made on trout showed that when
fed upon worms only they grew slowly; others
fed upon minnows did better ; but a single fish
fed upon insects weighed twice as much at the
end of the experiment as a pair of those reared
upon worms and minnows respectively. . . .
52 ''ANIMALS AT WORK AND PLAY
Carp were formerly believed to be vegetable
feeders, and the carp ponds of Germany used to
be drained and planted with rye as carp food. So
it was, but only as being itself food for the
microscopic millions. The carp chews the
water weed, sucks off the insects, and then spits
it out again."
There have been many learned discussions in
"The Fishing Gazette " as to how salmon manage
to live in fresh water without the least particle
of food ever being found in their stomachs.
Well, here is the solution: They "live upon
nothing but victuals and drink," but of the
microscopic and invisible kind now known as
entomostraca; just as whales and pilchards and
herrings flourish in seas apparently barren of all
food, so do salmon live and flourish on the
billions of invisible creatures swarming in rivers,
which they assimilate as soon as swallowed, and
therefore no food is ever found within them. I
regard this theory as a discovery. Palmam qui
meruit ferat, to Mr. Cornish belongs the palm.
I only tell the story.
The mention of carp reminds me that when
" Piscator Major" and I were in Paris some
time ago, we ran down to Fontainebleau solely
and wholly for the purpose of having a look at
the big carp, for doth not our master say that he
is " the Queen of rivers," in the same sense, I
suppose, as the salmon is called the King of
THEIR ACTIVITIES AND EMOTIONS." 53
rivers " a stately, a good, and a very subtle
fish." He also says that " if he have water room
and good feed, will grow to a very great bigness
and length ; I have heard, to be much above a
yard long." The fine old chateau which Napo-
leon III. renovated, and built a gorgeous theatre
therein, was closed when we arrived at five
o'clock. The theatre was completed a few
weeks only before the outbreak of the Franco-
Prussian war of 1870, and so the poor emperor
saw it only on a few occasions, and it has never
been played in since. The park gates were
open, and the fine lake was accessible. There
is a tradition floating about that this lake con-
tains carp more than a hundred years old. On
the other hand, it is said that the Cossacks, in
1815, drained the lake dry, and ate up every
carp. If that is so, and the lake was immediately
restocked, the oldest carp to be found there now
can barely have reached the respectable age of
eighty. It is certain, however, that the lake
swarms with carp of all ages, and they seem to
be in a very lively and healthy condition.
An old woman sits in a small alcove sur-
rounded with loaves of bread, which she sells to
the visitors at a penny a hunch. The carp were
there in hundreds, and we fed them. Fine fun
it was to see the helter-skelter dash they would
make for a small lump of bread. A large crust
caused most excitement, because they could not
54 "ANIMALS AT WORK AND PLAY."
easily seize it, and presently a big old fellow, a
yard long, would sail round or come up from
below, push the others aside with his pig-like
snout, and swallow the lump just as an old sow
would. It was interesting- to notice the respect
paid to a pair of stately swans by all the carp
big and little. When they sailed in for a share
of the food there was a general skedaddle, and
the swans took their bread with proper dignity.
We saw several fellows there that were quite a
yard long ; and a few nearly white, which gave
them the appearance of venerable age. They
seemed to thrive on bread, but probably more
so on the invisible entomostraca mentioned by
Mr. Cornish.
It will be seen that I have made of this little
book a sort of peg to hang a variety of odds and
ends upon. I will finish by recommending it
heartily to all readers who can find interest in
the doings of all sorts of animals, when at work
or at play.
CHAPTER VII.
ROUND AND ABOUT LOWESTOFT.
OWESTOFT being situated on the
most easterly point of England, and
fully exposed to any sea breezes that
may blow from the north, or the east,
or the south, most certainly possesses at least
this one advantage over many of the seaside
resorts on the south coast, that its breezes are
bracing and its air invigorating ; and, as these
happen to be the recuperative qualities most
needed by those who go down to the sea, Lowes-
toft has become very popular, and consequently,
it must be added, very dear for the accommoda-
tion it affords, as compared with other and more
fashionable resorts. The season here is short ;
limited, indeed, so I am told, to two or three
months, which are the harvest times for the in-
habitants, and it is no discredit to them to say
that they do their best to make hay while the
sun shines.
56 ROUND AND ABOUT LOWESTOFT.
The expense of board and lodging does not
weigh quite so heavily on me as it does on large
family parties occupying many rooms ; and
weekly family bills, for being braced up by the
breezes and strengthened by the sea air which
pervades Lowestoft, make a large inroad on
holiday expenses, and folk cannot live on breezes
alone. Altogether, therefore, I think it may be
said to be an expensive place. The people who
go there in such crowds seem to be of a class
most easily satisfied with the very mildest of
entertainments. Bands play at intervals, an
open-air concert on the sands in the evening,
preaching and disputing and shouting, make up
the sum total of what the visitor will at any time
encounter in a tramp through the whole extent
of south Lowestoft, from the Grand Hotel to the
bridge, which separates the north from the south,
as well as the inner and the outer harbours. At
the north end of north Lowestoft is an exceed-
ingly pretty little park, and down below on the
Denes is the model fresh water yacht pond, an
interesting and attractive spot, on which young
people sail their boats. The largest of these
juvenile yachts are modelled to scale on the
best racing yachts of the Solent, and miniature
races take place periodically under Yacht Club
rules.
Two rival phrenologists occupy tents on dif-
ferent parts of the sands, and seem always to be
ROUND AND ABOUT LOWESTOFT. 57
engaged in examining the heads of the rising
generation, and teaching the anxious mothers
how to teach their children to avoid the shoals
and quicksands of life which their bumps fore-
shadow. It would be curious to compare the
opinions of these two learned scientists on their
examination of the same head.
Lowestoft and its surroundings are certainly
not without many attractions. There is a very
long and attractive pier, and there must be two
or three miles or more of walls surrounding the
harbours, and on these walls or platforms may
be seen at any time of the day hundreds upon
hundreds of anglers, young and old, fishing for
anything that may come ; and it is surprising to
see the number of little fishes these persevering
and most patient young and old anglers will pull
out.
Then there are the neighbouring broads and
rivers. One day we went, some of us by rail and
some by steamer, to St. Olave's, which is within
a mile or two of the enchanting Fritton Lake, so
well known to all anglers. There we hired boats
and floated idly round the lake ; or, anchored in
seductive places, we fished and fished, but nothing
came of it but the fun of the thing. Men, women,
and children our family party a-fishing num-
bered twelve all chattering, all fishing, all
swinging rods and lines, and floats, and hooks,
and baits about in the liveliest manner imagin-
58 ROUND AND ABOUT LOWESTOFT.
able. A most delightful way of fishing, but to
the surprise of some of us not a fish was caught.
They kept off at a respectful distance from our
boats, and were much amused at the wild antics
being played above them on the surface of the
water; for if they could not hear the laughter,
and shouting, and screaming of the youngsters
over their heads, they could plainly enough see
the fantastic allurements now splashed down
upon them and now as suddenly jerked up. It
amused the fishes, it amused the children, we
were all amused, and no one was hurt.
When we got ashore again we wandered
through the pretty woods and gardens we
romped on the lawns, and had swings and
other diversions ; and altogether we had a jolly
time, old ones as merry and light-hearted as the
young ones. Fritton Lake is over three miles
long and probably a mile wide in some places,
much narrower in others. It is charmingly
surrounded by dark green woods, with pretty
nooks and corners, where, shutting out the
troubles and sorrows, the worrits and anxieties
of the wicked world we have left behind, we
might long to fish and float on and on for ever.
Another time, on serious angling bent, we left
the children to play on the sands, and started
off, " Piscator Major," another young enthusiast,
and I, for a day's fishing in the Yare.
It is curious to note as you pass along these
ROUND AND ABOUT LOWESTOFT. 59
rivers and broads the number of ardent anglers
you will see patiently sitting in punts moored to
the banks and waiting for a bite, and how, quite
unconsciously, as it were, they would, if they
happened to be successful, haul up their keep
nets (which are usually suspended outside the
boat in the water), and, as if to see that all was
right, pretend to examine their catches, but
really to show us passers-by what tremendous
fellows they were for catching fish ! Well, we
who laughed at their mild ostentation, and
envied their success, were bent, when we reached
our destination (at Coldham Hall, on the Yare),
on doing the same thing.
We hired a punt ; we provided lunch for our-
selves and ground-bait for the fishes. We had
a couple of long poles, which we stuck in the
mud at each end of our punt, and to these,
having found a likely place for fishing, we
moored ourselves. We were careful not to get
too far out in the stream on account of the big
steamers and yawls, and yachts and barges that
were constantly passing up and down the river.
We measured the depth of water, and adjusted
our floats and shot and baits thereto, so that
the bait might not be suspended midway from
the bottom or lie idly thereon an inch or two
off the bottom is best.
Meanwhile we had cast into the water many
a handful of ground bait. The bait we used
60 ROUND AND ABOUT LOWESTOFT.
was paste, sometimes white, sometimes coloured
pink, always nice and tough so that it would
bear rather rough swinging from the rod to get
it out a good distance from the punt ; and so
we three sat in that punt patiently watching our
floats. I may say that we had only two rods
between us, for I regarded myself as an out-
sider a mere spectator and I must say that
sitting in a punt for hours, watching a float,
with a hot sun in front of you and a cold easterly
wind blowing lumbago blasts at your back is not
the kind of fishing that enlists my sympathy ; I
soon grew tired of it. But there I was im-
prisoned, in deep water, ten yards from shore,
and to get there meant pulling up our mooring
poles and rowing a hundred yards away for a
landing place, thus disturbing all the arrange-
ments. Aware of this, I for a long and weary time
exercised all the patience at my command, but
I at last begged to be put ashore, and I was
glad to stretch my stiffened legs by prowling
about the fields. I had seen my young friends
pull in a number of small fish, and I had caught
one or two myself.
There does not seem to me to be much skill
required in this sort of fishing patience is the
great thing, and luck has something to do with
it, else why did that big bream not come at me
instead of the Major? How that fool of a fish
fought and splashed and dashed about was good
ROUND AND ABOUT LOWESTOFT. 61
to see, but the Major had him in a firm grip,
and after many a struggle he got him to the
top of the water ; but we had no landing net,'.and
to have lifted him bodily by the hook and gut
into the boat would have been an impossible
feat, he would inevitably have smashed that
slender gut. Happy thought ! We hauled up
our keep net, already alive with a number of
decent roach. We managed to get this under
the monster, and we got him into it, where he
made a lively time for himself and the others
suspended in the water till the boat came home.
When brought ashore he was pronounced to
be the biggest bream that had been caught in
those waters this season. Bream are not usually
considered to be particularly good for food, but
our ferryman, to whom we presented him, said
all that depended upon the way he was cooked.
" First," says he, " let him be well scraped and
cleaned (he had just jumped out of the net and
wallowed in the mud), and then " but I am
not called upon to give a lesson in cooking
bream, let it be sufficient to say that he seemed
delighted to get him, and intended to call his
friends and his neighbours together and give
them a jolly supper.
"Piscator Major" and the other young en-
thusiast seemed to be well satisfied with their
day's sport. I do not think I care just yet about
having another dose of punt fishing, but to those
62 ROUND AND ABOUT LOWESTOFT.
who like this kind of fishing what unlimited
scope there is on these great broads and rivers
of the east for an unlimited number of anglers !
and seeing that so much of the fishing is free,
and you can hitch up your boat wherever you
please, so long as you do not interrupt the traffic,
one's chief cause for surprise is that so few
London anglers find their way down to them,
notwithstanding the fact, which one would have
thought was pretty well known, that, contrary
to some other railway companies, the G.E.R.
affords every facility, accommodation, and
economy to bond fide anglers throughout their
system, and the expense of getting down to
these waters is certainly not burdensome, while
the sport for those who like it is pretty certain
and good.
I have not the conceit to suppose that I am
the only one who has ever made a pilgrimage
from Lowestoft to Blunderstone. One day A. M.
and I took a small Norwich car (and very con-
venient little traps they are) and drove over
to Blunderstone being about five miles from
Lowestoft to see if by chance we could dis-
cover " The Rookery," the house in which David
Copperfield was born, and where his earliest
days were spent. Blunderstone is a long
straggling village. Our driver had never heard
of David Copperfield, nor for a long time could
we find anyone in the village who knew where
ROUND AND ABOUT LOWESTOFT. 63
the Rookery was (the rooks, it will be re-
membered, had deserted the elms before David's
time). One woman, standing in her little front
garden, when we politely asked if she could
direct us to the place we were in search of,
would not give us a reply at all ; she rushed
into her house and banged the door behind her.
At length we came to the blacksmith, a good-
tempered, bright-eyed, young fellow, who clearly-
had the whole story by heart. We were told to
bear round to the right, and to take the first
turning to the left till we came to a barn, and
there, standing back some two or three hundred
yards from the road, we should see the identical
house which had lately fallen almost into ruins,
the roof off, but had now been thoroughly
repaired. "There," said the blacksmith, "you
will see the window at the back where young
David Copperfield used to lie and watch the
church and churchyard and the daws and rooks
for hours in those doleful times when he was
incarcerated for biting Mr. Murdstone's fist."
We found the barn and the house as directed
now a freshly painted pleasant villa, with a
parlour to the right and a parlour to the left, the
door in the middle. The house being a con-
siderable distance from the road, with a small
paddock and lawn intervening, we thought it
not rude to stop our steed in the road in order
to have a good look at it ; but we had to move
64 ROUND AND ABOUT LOWESTOFT.
on, for a man immediately came out with a gun
in his hand.
I do not pretend to say, or wish it to be
inferred, that that man meant to shoot us
indeed, I am inclined to doubt whether he even
saw us ; he was most likely going to shoot at
the blackbirds or starlings in the fruit trees in
the garden at the back but we were curiously
startled ; it is not comfortable to stand staring
at a man with a gun in his own garden, however
amiable his real intention may be, and so we
drove on, contenting ourselves with a glimpse
at the front of the house, not daring to approach
it nearer. We also got a glimpse of the very
interesting looking old church with its remark-
able round tower.
We had only two hours at our disposal when
we left Lowestoft, and that time was nearly up,
so we had to content ourselves with the glimpses
we had got. We travelled for some distance
along the Yarmouth road, so familiar to David,
and Barkis, and Peggotty, and all the rest of
'em. Surely it was somewhere along this road
that Mr. Barkis, the carrier, on learning that
Peggotty made all the apple parsties and did all
the cooking, instructed David (whom he was
taking from his home to Yarmouth), if he should
happen to be writing to Peggotty, to add those
immortal words, " Barkis is willin'."
CHAPTER VIII.
THE PROSE OF FLY FISHING.
September, 1896.
R. H. R. FRANCIS, M.A., has
recently issued a choice little pam-
phlet, under the title of " The Poetry
of Fly Fishing." I had the peculiar
privilege of reading this charming little work
under circumstances not altogether conducive to
the pleasure or enjoyment of fly fishing for I
read it one day sitting in our fishing hut, where
I had perforce taken shelter from a continuous
downpour. My lively little basket carrier com-
forted me with a contribution to the poetry of
fly fishing not to be found in Mr. Francis's book.
" Never mind, sir," said he,
" Sunshine and shower
Change every half-hour."
Rhyme only partly true in my case, for the
sunshine did not appear at all, but the rain
F
66 THE PROSE OF FLY FISHING,
continued all day. It was a happy thought that
led me to put that pretty booklet into my pocket,
for it betrays a personal acquaintance with all
that has been said by all the poets, ancient and
modern, on the subject of angling. It is, indeed,
a sort of defence of the poetry of angling against
maligners who have stated as a proof of defect
that angling has found but little favour with the
poets and where could be found so suitable a
place for reading it as in a hut specially appro-
priated to anglers, and looking out, as it does,
from beneath the shade of a wide-spreading
hawthorn, where one can sit and watch the big
expanse of water in front of us for any fish that
rise but none ever rose.
My lively boy, whom I have already quoted,
and who seems to have something of the spirit
of a young naturalist in him, drew my attention
to the performances of three " dabberchicks," as
he called them, swimming about in the pool
regardless of us, perhaps because they could
not see us. At one moment the water would be
quite clear of them then up they were again,
alternately diving and swimming in a happy
state of enjoyment. " I wish I could dive and
swim like they," cried young twelve-year-old,
" I'd soon put some fish in the basket."
A little further up stream were a pair of birds,
unknown to me, feeding on a small island of cut
weeds that had not long before been released
THE PROSE OF FLY FISHING. 67
from one of the arches of the bridge above. A
mixture of decayed vegetable matter, apparently
alive with insects, for the birds seemed to be
delighted with their feast ; now flying up and
snatching insects in the air, now pecking away
at the weeds. " Look up yonder, sir, at that
pair of ' Pollydishwashers ' ; they are such funny
birds, and play such curious antics, specially
when they're flying, popping up and down ; I've
seen lots of 'em about the river."
Then my young naturalist, peering into the
bushes hanging over the water at our feet,
whispered to me to look down there. "See
that water rat on the weeds eating quite con-
tentedly the long stems of grass that come up
from the water ; ain't his eyes bright ? " The
little vole was not easily disturbed, and when he
was he would pop into the water for a few
seconds, then up again, and munch away at his
weed as happy as ever.
Presently my young hopeful brought some-
thing in his hand. "Look here, sir," says he,
" here ; s a case that spiders build their nests in."
A filmy kind of thin bladder, about an inch
in diameter, which had been the birthplace of
hundreds of young spiders. Then my restless
youngster drew my attention to a hawk up in the
sky. " He 's mousing ; you watch and you'll
see him presently put his wings together, and
come flop down like a lump of lead. See,
68 THE PROSE OF FLY FISHING.
there he goes. Ah ! He 's missed the mouse
this time."
This was the way we passed our time, plea-
santly enough, in our cosy hut, whilst the rain
poured down, and the wind in howling gusts
swept the water into rolling waves.
Since I came down to these parts in the May
Fly time, which was by no means as good a time
as it usually is, I have not had a rod in my hand,
and I had chosen a singularly unfortunate time,
for the weather was dead against me. I arrived
on Friday afternoon, and that evening I caught
a fine brace of grayling and a nearly 2 Ib. trout,
and I have caught nothing since, and my accom-
plished friend the Professor was equally unlucky.
Saturday was an awful day, it rained in torrents
all day almost without a break, but we ventured
forth well clad in mackintosh and waders. We
fished now and then, when we could, in the short
intervals, when the heavy rain gave us the least
chance, but the wind blew half a gale, and we
watched wistfully for a rise. The wind blew all
the flies away, and we grumbled because there
was no rise.
When the wind fell a little another torrent
came on, and we were driven to seek shelter
under our favourite wide-spreading ash, which
the Professor long since christened " The Pub,"
a name which it will retain for ever. It must
have been in some such way as this that all
THE PROSE OF FLY FISHING. 69
place names originated ; future generations will
therefore please note how and when this doubt-
less then celebrated spot came by its odd name.
The rain, coming, down straighter and heavier
than ever, soon found its way through the thick
foliage, and we had to move. We made a dash
through the pitiless storm for a quarter of a mile,
helter-skelter, to our never so pleasant old hut,
dripping and draggled like barn-door fowls who
couldn't or wouldn't go in when it rained. There
we were imprisoned for hours, watching the big
bubbles swept away now and then by mighty
blasts, rolling and tumbling the usually placid
pool into a boiling cauldron. So we started for
home at the farm, where we smoked and played
chess.
Sunday was wholly given up to Jupiter Pluvius,
and Monday was worse than Saturday we
fished all day in the rain without ever even see-
ing a rise, for really there was nothing to rise at,
and food was plentiful down below.
Tuesday morning was bright but blowy. The
Professor, having more chances of choosing his
time than I, gave up and went to town. I, as
usual, persevered, but still there was no rise, and
I got no fish. In the afternoon the rain came
down with renewed vigour, and, as already re-
corded, I spent my time in the hut till the time
came to catch a train for town, and so my little
fishing excursion in Hampshire ended.
70 THE PROSE OF FLY FISHING.
Friday, Sept. 18, found me on the banks of
the Teme. A young friend of mine had got me
a day : s fishing on a strictly preserved and most
charming stretch of water not many miles above
Tenbury. It was a lovely day one might call
it an ideal day for grayling fishing. My young
friend is an expert ; he had caught over thirty
grayling and trout a fortnight before in the same
water, and his man, who accompanied him,
caught just as many ; he also accompanied us
on this occasion. We started full of such cer-
tainty of brilliant doings that there was posi-
tively no room for doubt. In face of these
masters of the angle I, of course, completely
effaced myself. I felt that I was nowhere.
There was no wind, no rain, and no sun a dull,
genial, pleasant day. I was led to expect to see
the pools bubbling with rising fish and the
streams alive with them. Our man, who on
this occasion was not fishing, except when I now
and then handed him my rod in order that
I might take a lesson in the most approved
method of wet fly fishing with two or three flies
on the cast, to which I had not been used and
who was loudest in praises of the river, the fish,
and the weather began soon to wonder what
was the matter.
"What a strange thing it is,'"' said he, "the
fish don't seem to be rising at all ; but never
mind, it doesn't much matter ; they'll take all the
THE PROSE OF FLY FISHING. 71
better as we draw the flies gently just under the
water." Of course we all practised this method,
but it didn't seem to answer not a fish came
near either of us. " All right," exclaimed our
enthusiast, " you'll get plenty in the streams and
pools lower down." And I am bound to say
that I fished we all fished our mile or two
of water conscientiously, methodically, I may
almost say scientifically. I boast not of my own
skill, but my friends, both master and man, are
undoubtedly born artists, and knew every turn
and twist of the river, and where all the best fish
are to be found, and yet, after working from
1 1 a.m. to 5 p.m., we did not catch we did not
see even a single takable fish. We caught a
few samlets, which we put back, and we returned
home sorely discouraged, and with baskets as
empty as when we set out.
" Well ! I think it is time to put up !
For it does not agree with my notions,
Wrist, elbow, and chine,
Stiff from throwing the line,
To take nothing at last by my motions."
HOOD.
Little bright-eyed, laughing Mary met us at
the door with a big dish in her hands, and there
were two other young ladies behind her, each
one with mocking smiles on her lips, also hold-
ing big dishes, hoping, but fearing they were
72 THE PROSE OF FLY FISHING.
not large enough to hold the contents of our
bulging baskets. And didn't they compel us to
eat very humble pie. Expecting trout and gray-
ling, they said there was nothing else for dinner
but this humble pie, and so we must feed upon
that. And, after all, very nice apple pie it was.
Saturday, the iQth, I found myself with my
old friends on the banks of the Wye, not very
many miles north of Hereford. Here I had had
fresh fishing gear sent to me, in the hope of
catching a few perch, if not a trout or two ; but
I found the river very high and very muddy,
and I never unpacked my tackle.
By way of passing the time, on Monday I
accompanied my friend on a twenty-five miles'
drive through a lovely bit of country. It was a
fine, crisp morning, and we reached our destina-
tion rejoicing that fine, frosty weather had set in
at last. But, alas, no ! Just as we had finished
lunch a small black cloud, the size of a man's
hand, came up over the hills, and quickly spread
itself like a grim pall over the blue heavens,
and the rain came pelting down. The first
half of our journey was all sunshine, the second
half was a deluge. Our good mare brought us
home in fine style through the pelting storm.
She had trotted fifty miles that day, and was
fresh and ready for another fifty next day ; but
so were not we. We were diluvians dragged
up from the flood to our pleasant Pisgah, which
THE PROSE OF FLY FISHING. 73
looks down upon the mighty river, now risen by
ten feet since we left it in the morning, and still
is rising rapidly.
Our road to the station will soon be six feet
under water. I rather like it, and won't hurry
home. Mushrooms are very plentiful ; we have
enough to live on if this place should become
an inaccessible island.
As Mr. Francis fully justified in his little
pamphlet the title he had chosen, "The Poetry
of Fly Fishing," so I think I may well claim my
experiences on this outing as " The Prose of
Fly Fishing."
CHAPTER IX.
A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF GILBERT WHITE. 1
years ago I made a brief pilgrim-
age to the village of Selborne, cele-
brated the world over as the birthplace
and deathplace of Gilbert White. It
was in the month of April ; a bright, sunny
time, when all nature was gay and smiling.
Selborne, as White describes it, lies in the
extreme eastern corner of the county of Hamp-
shire, bordering on the county of Sussex, and
not far from the county of Surrey is about fifty
miles south-west from London. On the south-
west is a vast hill rising three hundred feet
above the village, which consists of one straggling
street about three-quarters of a mile long. The
hill overhanging the village is very appropriately
named " The Hanger." The whole of the hill
facing it is covered with beech trees, " the most
1 "A Bibliography of Gilbert White, the Natural
Historian and Antiquarian of Selborne." By Edward
A. Martin, F.G.S. (The Roxburgh Press.)
A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF GILBERT WHITE. 75
lovely of all forest trees, whether we consider
its smooth rind or bark, its glossy foliage, or
graceful pendulous boughs."
The house in which Gilbert White was born,
and in which he died, is called " The Wakes "-
a charming old-fashioned house in the village
street. This house is, of course, the goal of all
pilgrims, who travel to it from all parts, and who,
naturally, must be a source of considerable
exercise of patience to the occupiers. The
house was occupied for many years by Professor
Bell, the well-known writer of works on natural
history. He dwelt there from 1842 till the time
of his death in 1880. Then it came into the
possession of General Parr, who left it in 1892.
That was the time of our visit to Selborne,
and the house was then in a transition state in
preparation for the new occupier, and we were
not permitted to have even a glimpse of the
interior. It has now changed hands again,
having been purchased by Mr. Paxton Parkin.
At the time of our visit the older part was in
much the same state as it was when Gilbert
White died, as Professor Bell seems " to have
exhibited the greatest care in retaining, as far as
possible, the antique appearance of the house."
A northern wing had, however, been added. It
would, indeed, be a great pity if such a pic-
turesque old place should be subjected to any
"modern improvements."
76 A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF
Although we were unable to view the interior,
we got a distant view of the very pleasant lawn
and lovely meadow at the back from the footpath
which leads up to "The Hanger." The green
meadow runs back to the hill, and its whole
extent is literally overhung by the lovely beeches.
We had a pleasant walk up the zigzag,
through the beeches, and on to the common
which runs along the top, and we made many
other delightful excursions in the neighbourhood.
"The Well Head" is one of the sources of
the River Wey so frequently mentioned by
Gilbert White, and of which he gives the follow-
ing very interesting account :
" At each end of the village, which runs from
south-east to north-west, arises a small rivulet.
That at the north-west end frequently fails ; but
the other is a fine perennial spring, little in-
fluenced by drought or wet seasons, called
' Well Head.' This breaks out of some high
grounds adjoining to Nore Hill, a noble chalk
promontory, remarkable for sending forth two
streams into two different seas. The one to the
south becomes a branch of the Arun, running to
Arundel, and so falling into the Bristol Channel ;
the other to the north. The Selborne stream
makes one branch of the Wey, and meeting
Blackdown stream at Hedleigh, and the Alton
and Farnham stream at Tilford Bridge, swells
into a considerable river, navigable at Godal-
GILBERT WHITE. 77
ming, from whence it passes to Guildford, and
so into the Thames at Weybridge ; and then at
the Nore into the German Ocean."
The title of Mr. Martin's book strikes me as
being a misnomer, erring certainly on the side of
modesty, for although it contains three chapters
devoted to a most interesting and exhaustive
account of all the editions that have ever been
printed of " The Natural History and Antiquities
of Selborne," together with a chronological
summary, showing the date, publisher, printer,
editor, number of pages, illustrations, artists,
and engravers of every edition ranging from 1789
to 1895 ; it contains beside five other chapters,
which supply an admirable, sympathetic, warm-
hearted biography of Gilbert White himself, and
a charming story of rambles round, and descrip-
tion of, the village of Selborne. The chapters
on Gilbert White as a naturalist and as a poet
are very pleasant reading.
All admirers of Gilbert White naturally would
like to know something of his personal appear-
ance, but, although he often talked about having
his portrait painted, it was never done. On this
point Mr. Martin says :
" We must imagine White as he rambled
along the Lythe, or followed the scent-laden
path to the Priory Farm, dressed in the old-
fashioned costume of the period. Perhaps he
wore a clerical wig, whilst knee breeches and
78 A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF
buckles were almost a necessity to a man of his
position. Many years ago an old woman was
asked what she remembered of Gilbert White.
Her recollection was of a man who used to walk
about the hollow lanes ' tap-tapping with his
cane.' . . . One account of our author describes
him as a little man, perhaps about 5 feet 3 inches
n height, and that he often rode a pony. . . .
Frank Buckland records that a villager, when
asked concerning Gilbert White, replied that
' He was thought little of till he was dead and
gone, after which he was thought a great deal
of.' Another villager described him as ' A
little, thin, prim, upright man.' "
James Russell Lowell said of Gilbert White's
book, that " In simplicity of taste and natural
refinement it reminds one of Walton, and in
tenderness, of Cowper."
No angler's library would be complete without
Izaak Walton and Gilbert White side by side,
and the volume to which I am now drawing
attention should always be near them. The
popularity of these two delightful writers may
be gauged by the number of editions through
which their books have gone, and it would not
be easy to say which of the two has been the
most beloved by the generations which have
passed away since these bright examples of
humanity and students of nature put on im-
mortality. In the two hundred years which
GILBERT WHITE. 79
have come and gone since Izaak Walton died,
in 1683, at the age of ninety, one hundred
editions of " The Compleat Angler " have been
called for, the bicentenary of his death (not far
from being the tercentenary of his birth) being
commemorated by the splendidly produced one
hundredth edition, edited by Mr. R. B. Marston,
who, like Mr. Martin, furnishes a summary with
dates of all the editions which precede his edition.
This one hundredth edition was published in
1888, and it may be said that several very beau-
tiful editions have been published since.
During the century which has elapsed since
Gilbert White died, at the age of seventy-three,
in the year 1793 (just two hundred years after
the birth of Walton), Mr. Martin supplies a list of
fifty-nine editions of " The Natural History of
Selborne." One may reasonably judge from
these curious facts that these two delightful
writers, and most excellent characters, have had,
and will continue to hold, an equal share in the
affection of all good people.
CHAPTER X.
" THE COMPLEAT ANGLER." l
F making editions of Izaak Walton's
" Compleat Angler," it seems likely
enough there will be no end, seeing
that as time progresses the number
increases, and this has been going on for nearly
two hundred and fifty years.
As already mentioned Mr. R. B. Marston
brought out the " Lea and Dove" edition, being
the one hundredth edition. This was in 1888, and
already, only eight or nine years after that date,
Mr. Le Gallienne in his introduction to the pre-
sent edition says : " With the year 1653 came
the charming classic, which in the present
volume is published for the one hundred and
twenty-first time"
1 "The Compleat Angler." By Izaak Walton and
Charles Cotton. Edited, with an Introduction, by Richard
Le Gallienne. Illustrated by Edmund H. New. Quarto,
cloth extra, pp. Ixxxiv, 466. London and New York ;
John Lane, The Bodley Head. MDCCCXCVII.
"THE COMPLEAT ANGLER." 81
Thus twenty editions of a work by an author
who has been dead two hundred and fourteen
years, have been called for during the last eight
years. Perhaps the expression "called for" is
not quite accurate. The public do not usually
call for such editions ; it is rather the enterprise
of publishers, who, by producing something
attractive and new, create a demand, which, but
for them, would not have been thought of. Many
of the editions enumerated are mere reprints,
and the continued demand for such editions is,
of course, a true indication of the vitality of the
charming old book ; but a newly edited and
elaborately illustrated edition, such as the " Lea
and Dove" edition, in two quarto volumes, may
be said to mark an epoch in the passing time.
The same may be said of the present edition,
which is most pleasantly edited, with an intro-
duction, by Richard Le Gallienne, and very
quaintly and prettily illustrated by Edmund H.
New, and, it may be added, printed and bound
with the good taste which is a noted charac-
teristic of the productions emanating from " The
Bodley Head." Such editions as these commend
themselves and command the attention of all
anglers.
"Perhaps," says Mr. Le Gallienne, "no Eng-
lish book except ' The Pilgrim's Progress ' and
' Robinson Crusoe,' has been so beloved. Genera-
tion after generation has brought to it its young
G
82 " THE COM PLEAT ANGLER."
affections, and there seems every reason to
suppose that the average of something like a
new edition for every two and a half years,
which so far the ' Compleat Angler ' has main-
tained, will even be surpassed in the future."
In point of immortality or, perhaps, one should
say perpetuation of vitality as well as similarity
in simplicity of character of the two writers,
Mr. Le Gallienne might have instanced Gilbert
White, who, in point of time, is a hundred
years younger than Izaak Walton and whose
"Natural History and Antiquities of Selborne"
has gone through fifty-nine editions at least,
probably many more. These are the kind of
books that publishers revel in there is no
author to pay, no one's copyright to infringe,
and a certain market for any decently got up
edition. Being but an amateur angler myself
I do not presume to assert the value to modern
anglers of Izaak Walton's teachings, but I am
inclined to think that Mr. Le Gallienne very
considerably undervalues his merits as a prac-
tical angler when he says :
" For after all, Walton is a sentiment, at least
as an angler ; for I understand that the ordinary
Philistine angler, to whom all that pretty warb-
ling talk of birds and honeysuckle hedges has
no appeal in comparison with a creel full of
speckled trout, thinks but small beer of poor
Izaak's angling methods. It is probably among
"THE COM PLEAT ANGLER." 83
those who have never cast a line (like the
present editor), or like Washington Irving have
but fished ' to satisfy the sentiment ' that the
majority of Waltonians are to be found."
Doubtless there are many unsentimental
anglers who eschew " the sentiment " altogether,
but who, nevertheless, avail themselves of the
methods and laws for catching fish which " poor
Izaak" has laid down for them.
Undoubtedly Izaak Walton loved nature much,
but certainly he loved fishing more, and it is,
perhaps, the charming simplicity with which he
describes all nature, combined with the accurate
knowledge which he displays about all fresh
water fish and the various ways of catching
them, that keep his memory green in the hearts
of all anglers, whether of the sentimental or the
" Philistine " class.
I can, however, fully endorse Mr. Le Gal-
lienne's view of the sentimental part of angling :
" One might as well consult a fifteenth century
pharmacopoeia on Russian influenza as consult
'Honest Izaac' on any of the higher branches
of his art. But who minds that ? Angling was
simply an excuse for Walton's artless garrulity,
a peg on which to hang his ever fragrant dis-
course of stream and meadow. He followed
angling, as, indeed, any such sport is most in-
telligently followed, as a pretext for a day or
two in the fields, not so much to fill his basket
84 ' ' THE COM PLEA T A NGLER. ' '
as to refresh his spirit, and store his memory
with the sweetness of country sights and sounds.
The angler who merely angles for the sake of
what he can catch is not so much an angler as a
fishmonger."
As regards the facts of Izaak Walton's life, it
was hardly to be expected that Mr. Le Gallienne
could produce anything new for these he has
relied on former editors. The vexed question
as to whether Izaak Walton was a hosier or an
ironmonger he just leaves where he found it.
His chapter on " Walton's Literary Life and
Friendships " is very interesting, and it closes
with these delightful words : " But it is in vain
we strive by critical reagents to analyze the
unfading charm of this old book ; is it not
simply that the soul of a good man still breathes
through its pages like lavender?"
The text from which this edition is printed
is the fifth edition (the last to receive Walton's
own revision), the spelling being modernized,
including also Part II., by Cotton, respecting
which Mr. Le Gallienne says : " Whatever the
literary skill with which the style of Walton is
imitated, not to say parodied, whatever its
illustrative and associative value, or its import-
ance as a contribution to the art and science of
fly fishing, is, nevertheless, printed as an integral
part of that charming classic, an impertinence.
Its proper place is an appendix, whither I should
" THE COM PLEAT ANGLER." 85
have relegated it in this edition had not tradition
been too strong to be gainsaid. Whom fame
has joined together let no man put asunder."
From a purely literary standpoint, Mr. Le
Gallienne is right in his judgment, for there
can be no comparison between the genuine
simplicity of Walton's writing and the imitative
and ostentatious simplicity of Cotton's ; but I am
very glad that Mr. Le Gallienne did not relegate
Cotton to an appendix, for I am sure it would
have condemned his beautiful volume in the
eyes of most anglers.
If, as Mr. Le Gallienne says, Cotton "is en-
tirely remembered to-day by his association
with Walton," it is pleasant also to remember
that but for him we should have known little or
nothing about Walton's visits to Beresford Hall,
his angling in "The Dove," and the delightful
old " Fishing House."
Mr. Le Gallienne dedicates his volume to the
Right Honourable Offley Ashburton, Earl of
Crewe, in a very pleasant poem of thirteen
lines.
As regards the illustrations, which are not the
least attractive feature in this memorable edition,
they have been made "as thoroughly as possible
from a topographical point of view"; mostly
made on the spot, comprising views on the
districts described by Walton on the Lea from
Tottenham to \Vare, and by Cotton from Brails-
86 " THE COMPLEAT ANGLER."
ford to Beresford Hall on the Dove. They are
very numerous, and of a singular quaintness,
pleasing alike to the eye and one's sense of
appropriateness. Altogether, they number over
two hundred.
We have all heard of the old clock, which
makes no other claim to have been Izaak
Walton's than that it bears somewhere on it
the initials I. W. Mr. New, however, seems
to have made a real discovery which I fancy
has not been noted before. It is called Izaak
Walton's Marriage Chest, and is in the pos-
session of the Right Hon. the Earl of Warwick.
The inscription runs as follows :
" Isaak Walton. Rachel Floud.
Joyned Together In Ye Holie Bonde of Wedlocke
On Ye 2/th Dale of Decembre A. 1626 D.
We once were two, we two made one ;
We no more two, through Life be one."
Probably this is the Trunk of Linen which in
his will he gives to his son, Izaak Walton.
With reference to the Walton Wedding Chest
Mr. New sends us the following account. He
says :
" The finding of Walton's Marriage Chest was
an accident. A cousin of mine was sketching
some time ago at Warwick Castle, and the
housekeeper took her over the private rooms to
see the old furniture, pictures, etc. The chest
\.
"THE COMPLEAT ANGLER." 87
stood in a rather dark passage, but she happened
to catch the name of Walton on it as she passed,
and, knowing I was illustrating ' The Compleat
Angler,' she told me of it. Last autumn I wrote
to Lord Warwick asking for permission to see
the chest, and make a drawing of it if it seemed
really genuine. He replied that he was unaware
that he had such a chest, but that I was quite at
liberty to draw it if I could find it."
Mr. John Lane may well be congratulated in
having produced the last of the one hundred
and twenty-one editions published up to the
present time, and certainly, whether regarded
from the editorial or artistic point of view, one
of the most remarkable and valuable of all the
editions yet published.
CHAPTER XL
OUR MAY FLY OUTING ON THE TEST.
ATURDAY, May 29, 1897. I am
sitting in a large fisherman's hut on
the banks of the Test. The wind is
howling overhead, and the waves on
the river are like the waves of the sea when the
wind is blowing half a gale. This is our second
day. Yesterday the sky was leaden and lower-
ing, with occasional glimpses of sunshine. A
fair wind was blowing up from the south-west.
The May Fly came up occasionally and was
promptly taken down, a signal for us to place
our imitation on the spot where the real one had
disappeared.
Just now, however, I am more interested in the
antics of a pair of wagtails the most elegant
and graceful of birds. They are trying all they
know to make me believe they haven't got a
nest and young ones in the thatch overhead.
I know where it is. The hen, dressed in more
OUR MAY FLY OUTING ON THE TEST. 89
sombre garb than her gay husband, peering
through the window, has got sight of me, sitting
in the farthest corner. She has a white grub in
her mouth ; but, instead of flying up to her nest
just above, she is off round the opposite corner,
and so gets to her young by a roundabout way,
and thinks she has tricked me nicely. Now
they are down on the grass yonder, twittering
and digging away, pretending to be quite un-
conscious that I am watching them. They
think this hut is their property that it grew up
where it is, quite away in an open meadow, far
away from the habitations of men folk, solely
and specially for them to build their nests in.
Yonder comes the male bird, with a great
bunch of grubs in his mouth, but scolding all
the same. His little bright eye is a Rontgen
ray ; he can see me as clearly as if there were
no glass between us, and I was not sitting
quietly in the darkest corner. Now comes his
wife with another mouthful ; and so they keep
on hour after hour, cramming the maws of those
little monsters up in the thatch. All my readers,
of course, know that the wagtail is the smallest
bird that walks. They may not all know the
riddle propounded, I think, by the late Lord
Melbourne on a solemn occasion :
" My first is a bird that hops,
My second makes hay crops,
My whole we eat with mutton chops."
go OUR MAY FLY OUTING
But I must to business. There is a slight lull
of the wind, so I will go down and have another
try at that big trout just below the May bush. I
pricked him this morning, but I think he must
have forgotten that. Yes ; there he is a real
beauty, over 2 Ib. In this aristocratic stream no
fish is takable under i Ib. The wind is still
howling in the trees ; my fish is just under the
bank on my side. I must get a good way below
him and cast up. At my first cast, in a slight lull,
I got my fly just above him, and just after he had
swallowed a delicious morsel. I had put on a
new fly a favourite, called the G.O.M., specially
for him. Up he came, seized it ; I struck. He
was bewildered, first at the peculiar flavour of
this new thing, and then at the strange pricking
in his lip. Then he dashed madly across the
stream. I held on to him for a long time, but
he got down into the weeds, and, alas ! I failed
to release him, or, perhaps it is more proper to
say, I did release him. My hook came away,
and I left him behind. There he is still for
some more cunning hand. I have lost my last
chance at him.
I returned philosophically to the hut, and,
while I am waiting here for the wind to moderate
its fury, I may as well report our doings of yester-
day. We arrived here, no matter where, on
the Test on Thursday night, and we started
fishing early on Friday morning. A very jolly,
ON THE TEST. 91
bright-eyed keeper, who has met with many curi-
ous adventures in his day, attended the Major.
He will be easily recognized by a smashed thumb,
by which he was pinned between the upper and
nether beams of a sluice for four hours in mortal
agony. Lenny, a smart young under-keeper,
attended me. He has a remarkably quick eye
for a rising fish. I may go a little further, by
way of identifying our water, by saying that it is
without doubt the finest stretch of trout water in
the United Kingdom. It has two large carriers,
one on each side of the main stream. The latter
flows majestically, deep and strong and straight,
for about a mile. We had, in fact, both sides of
three full rivers to fish.
About this first day's fishing I will only say
that we broke the record this season up to date.
Our joint efforts produced 19 Ib. weight, of which
two trout weighed 6 Ib., and not one of the rest
was under 2 Ib. I hooked, and, alas ! I lost in
weeds or banks, or through defective gut, six
good fish, and the Major lost more from the same
causes ; but then he caught more to make up for
it. We also caught many grayling, which, of
course, at this season, do not count. At the
conclusion I could only claim as my share one
brace and a half, weighing 6 Ib., out of the 19 Ib.
recorded.
Saturday, 29th, was, as I have already in-
timated, a tempestuous day. We started early.
92 OUR MAY FLY OUTING
I caught, at my first cast over a rising fish, a very
fine trout, which I claimed as being up to the
standard of I lb., but which my znftdus Achates
vowed was only | lb. it was his opinion against
mine, for we had no scales. While we were
disputing the fish was dying ; so to settle the
question, back he went to his native element,
more dead than alive ; he soon recovered his
usual health and was off merrily.
The Major caught two or three big ones during
the morning, but, as I started by saying, the
wind was doing its utmost to drive the big stream
back to its source. I did nothing more till lunch
came down, and there in the hut we whiled away
two or three hours, the wind whistling above and
around us.
The long stretch of river I have already men-
tioned is called the Lake, and up this lake the
wind was driving, for the whole stretch is quite
unprotected by tree or shrub. The Major started
up one side, and I took the other, there being
from forty yards to sixty yards of river between
us. Not a fly could be seen on the tumbling
billows, and there was no sign of a rise.
" Look out ! " cried Lenny. " There 's a rise
up yonder, just about the middle of the stream,
by that weed." I had seen the rise at the same
time as Lenny. I made a cast, and the wind
carried my fly many feet to the left. But cast
number three came down nicely just over the
ON THE TEST. 93
right spot, and whiz ! away went my fly up
stream, down, across, and back, and a dash into
the bank close to us. I kept a tight hold all the
time. Now he had got a yard into the bank, and
for a long time would not be dislodged ; but
Lenny, by stamping hard on the soft mould for
he was not more than a foot or two from the
surface started him out. Off he goes again
down stream, and I could scarcely get ahead of
him. Again he manages to get into the bank,
and again had to be stamped out ; but he was
there long enough to get fresh breath and vigour,
and off he made for a bed of weeds. I continued
to pull as hard as I dared to bring him in, but
he got down in spite of my efforts, and there he
stuck, fixed and immovable ; not an inch would
he move. My rod was like a rainbow all the
time. At last Lenny, full of excitement, rushed
off across the meadow, quite a quarter of a mile,
to get a long pole ; the Major and the keeper on
the other side were also excited. The keeper
urged the Major to wade across, and he started
to come, but his waders only covered his knees,
and my trout was in water six feet deep, so I
ordered him on no account to make the rash
attempt.
Now comes Lenny wildly and breathlessly
running with a long pole on his shoulder. All
was well still ; hook and gut, and line and
rod, and arm and angler firmly and immovably
94 OUR MAY FLY OUTING
fixed. I feared for my lovely little split cane
rod, one of the best and truest ever made by
Leonard, of New York. Lenny prodded away
at the weeds ; the rod perceptibly straightened.
I slackened a bit, and away he goes again down
stream, but, failing to reach another bunch of
weeds, he tried another dodge. He leapt two
feet clean into the air, and then he gave up the
fight and came quietly into the net. Altogether
he must have given me about twenty minutes of
pleasurable excitement. During the process the
Major and the keeper were shouting all sorts of
advice, to which I paid no heed ; and afterwards
they said you should have done this and you
should have done that ; but I don't believe that
the Major himself, expert as he is, could have
handled that plucky trout better than did " The
A. A." They clapped their hands and cheered
when they saw my fish come to basket. After
all he weighed only 27 Ib. The Major caught
several bigger ones, but not one that fought like
mine.
In connection with this pugnacious fish, I wish
to add the following :
NOTICE. Found, firmly fixed in the root of
the pectoral fin of a 2f Ib. trout, a well-made
May Fly, pronounced by the Major, from its
special style, to be one of Mr. Yarde's " Pro-
fessors " made by Miss Ellis, of Exmouth. The
owner may have it on producing proof of identi-
ON THE TEST. 95
fication. The trout is no longer in evidence,
having been eaten the next morning.
In spite of wind and weather, we found, when
we came to weigh-in, that we had got exactly
he same weight as yesterday viz., 19 Ib.
And now we have to quit this noble river, the
finest trout stream I have ever seen, and must
be off for "fresh woods and pastures new."
I find I have said little or nothing about the
May Fly, but of course it is understood we are
fishing with a variety of imitations of that re-
markable insect. They were up, it is true, but
only fitfully. On Friday they rode placidly on
the surface of the water, like frigates of the
olden time, or graceful yachts of the Solent ;
but on Saturday they were like storm-tossed
ships in a wild hurricane at sea, blown hither
and thither, and sometimes off the water there
was no chance for the brief life which nature at
best allows them. There were more strong-
winged swifts about than May Flies ; so that
between swift and trout, wind and wave, there
were surely none alive of Saturday's brood to
tell next day of their rough reception in their
new and winged world. So eager and voracious
were the swifts that they dashed at our imitations,
and three came to grief in this way. One caught
my fly and came fluttering down with the barbed
destroyer fixed in his bleeding mouth. I released
him gently, put him on the grass to test the truth
96 OUR MAY FLY OUTING ON THE TEST.
of the saying that swifts cannot rise from the
ground owing to the length of their wings. The
saying is proved to be a fallacy. My swift, after
one or two awkward struggles, sprang into the
air and went his way rejoicing. The Major
caught another in the same way, and a third
came to grief by dashing against his rod.
"The A. A." and the Major have only now to
express their thanks to the good friend who
afforded them the opportunity of disporting
themselves so delightfully on his beautiful water.
CHAPTER XII.
OUR MAY FLY OUTING ON THE ITCHEN (1897).
fONDAY, May 31, to Whit Monday,
June 7, 1897. I have not much to
record in continuation of our work
on the Test, as already described.
Owing to my hard work there, I was personally
hors de combat for four days out of the eight at
my disposal. In that wretched period, when the
weather was all that could be desired, I was only
able painfully to hobble down to our bridge, and
there get distant glimpses of the rising trout, and
the Major's doings amongst them ; when I say
the " Major," be it well understood that " Piscator
Major" is meant, for there is another real major
fishing over yonder. (I have always used the
term Major in contradistinction to the minor
qualifications of" The A. A.") There are plenty
of fish here ; indeed, we complain of there being
too many grayling, but they are thoroughly well
H
98 OUR MAY FLY OUTING
educated, and require much tact in handling,
being very well able to distinguish between the
real and the imitation, unless the latter comes
before them in a very unquestionable shape.
I am not going to crack up this water as being
superior to any other, but I must say that just
now the scenery hereabouts is superb, not for
grandeur, but for quiet rural beauty. Seated as
I am just now in our fishing hut, under the
grateful shade of a large May tree, now white
with bloom, and looking down upon the placid
lake-like stream where the Major last night had
an exciting battle with the monarch of the
stream, I feel content. The meadow in front of
us is one large field of burnished gold, and it
is surrounded by woods of various tints of green,
mixed also with bits of brown, for the foliage of
the young oaks in the woods has been blighted,
the leaves curled up and brown, more like
winter's remnant than spring's effulgence. Other-
wise the foliage is rich and abundant.
The birds hereabouts are more jubilant than
they are in common years, and in the bright
sunshine all nature is dancing for joy ; but of all
the birds of the air there are none happier or
more joyful just now than yonder loving couple,
yclept Sir Thomas Titmouse and his spouse,
Lady Titmouse. Their castle is made of cast
iron, quite impregnable ; wise Sir Thomas for
choosing so strong a fortress ; but, foolish Sir
ON THE ITCHEN. 99
Thomas, why did you not consider that you had
chosen your abode on a bridge ?
When I first made your acquaintance you had
the fullest confidence in the goodness of the
wingless, featherless bipeds always crossing and
re-crossing your bridge. In the iron upright
stanchion, forming the end of the bridge, a cir-
cular hole, not required for continuation of the
lateral bar, had been left, and in that hole you
had built your nest. I admired your taste, but
I trembled for your future ; your boldness and
indiscretion distressed me. Within a yard of
where I was leaning on the bridge you and her
ladyship flitted in and out of that hole, your
mouths crammed with insects, the livelong day.
I moved away, and two lazy tramps came and
lolled on the bridge ; they soon caught sight of
your aperture ; one of them watched you going
in, and put his hand over the hole, and shouted
as if he had done something wonderful ; I begged
him to leave the little birds alone, and presently
they both loafed away.
Next morning my tits were at work as busily
as ever, but care, and doubt, and suspicion had
taken the place of the light-hearted gaiety of
yesterday ; now they approached their nest
stealthily, and with fear, looking all round to
see if any two-legged animal was about. The
next morning, when I went down, I found that
the boy tending cows in the next field had dis-
ioo OUR MAY FLY OUTING
covered the nest ; he and the other boys had
found pleasure in tormenting them, and the next
day they had quite disappeared. The young
scamps had dropped stones into the pillar, and
so no doubt killed the fledglings, and the
bereaved parents have experienced the merci-
lessness and cruelty of boys.
The crop of May Fly is just now proving itself
to be far above the average ; the air, the bushes,
the long grass are clamorous with these noiseless
insects ; their songs as they dance in the air are
too ethereal for mortal ears to hear. Among
the deadly enemies of the May Fly I have
observed are fish, ducks, geese, swifts, swallows,
starlings, dragon flies, and all kinds of birds. It
was only to-day that I discovered a new and
formidable enemy. Walking through some long
and strong weeds, I observed ropes of gossamer
suspended from one thistle to another, row above
row, and on these lines were suspended like
chickens at a poulterer's, as closely packed as
possible, hundreds of May Flies. It must have
been a happy time for spiders as well as anglers
when the cry went forth, " The May Fly is up ! "
What on earth Master Spider thinks he is going
to do with the immense store he has laid up,
goodness knows ! He is like us anglers on
a Saturday night with a stock of fish we know
not what to do with. He cannot eat them all
himself, and his stock is frail and perishable.
ON THE ITCHEN. 101
Usually " Piscator Major " takes his fishing
very calmly, but now he has come up from the
river in a state of considerable excitement. It is
about that monarch of the stream I mentioned
just now. Sitting on the bench in front of the
wooden mansion " sacred to fishermen," he had
seen that fish come up with a splash that
frightened the calves on the opposite bank, and
sent them off galloping across the meadow with
their tails up.
There he sat for an hour watching and waiting
for another rise ; at-length he was rewarded : up
he came again. He placed his G.O.M. nicely
over him. Then that mild lake became a tem-
pestuous sea ; the lashings of that trout left
a track behind like that of a screw steamer ;
and so the fight went on for a quarter of an hour.
At last he arrived at the point of the net, when
he decided to make one other and final effort for
liberty ; and, alas ! he went away rejoicing with
two yards of collar dangling after him. The gut
had given way just in its thickest, and therefore
supposed to be its strongest part.
The Major had once caught a five-pounder in
the Test, and when this fellow had come within
a foot of the net his imagination had already
stuffed him and placed him in a glass case as a
rival and companion to that Test five-pounder
which now hangs in his hall ; and now he has lost
him ! A thing to mourn over till next October.
102 OUR MA Y FLY OUTING ON THE ITCHEN.
My own exploits on this expedition, and those
of the good Professor, who I omitted to say
is with us, seem in comparison with this great
battle to be but small, and yet, in fact, we did
very well. We had many good fights, and often
we came off conquerors. Needless forme to go
into details, for generally the catching of one
trout is very much like catching another trout.
The difference between us is that the Major has
a forceful way, which compels the attention of the
trout, who has to take what he puts before him.
We, the Professor and I, always try gentler and
more persuasive measures ; but it does not
answer as well he catches six for every one of
ours.
Altogether I may sum up by saying that we
have had a very successful and pleasant outing ;
glorious weather all the week. On Whit Monday
night I caught my last trout in a thunderstorm,
and returned to London the same evening,
leaving the Professor a few trout still to catch ;
I wish him all the success his ardour and quiet
skill entitle him to.
The May Fly fishing in these parts may now
be said to be over, and altogether I should say
that it has been a good season.
CHAPTER XIII.
BANK HOLIDAY FISHING.
Aiigust, 1897.
A Singular and Ciirious Incident.
I SH ING on the August Bank Holiday
is somewhat of a delusion. A south-
easterly wind, a blazing sun, and water
of the transparency of gin do not
seem to be conducive to a rise of flies or a rise
of trout and grayling. Yet it need hardly be
said that, even under these conditions, it is
better to come face to face with Nature and be
baked, than to sit in a London office and be
stewed. We had two days of it Saturday and
Monday. We could not catch fish in the sun,
first, because we could not stand the heat ; and,
secondly, because there were no fish to catch.
We traversed the whole length of our water
from above the bridge to the fishing hut without
seeing a rise. Trout and grayling alike had
104 BANK H OLID A Y FISHING.
buried themselves in the weeds or hidden in the
banks. We walked, or, I may say, we loafed,
down the river, lingering under every bit of
available shelter till we reached our dulce
domum, piscatoribus sacrum.
There, as always, we found a cool and calm
retreat under the friendly shade of our beautiful
May tree, backed up by an equally friendly
wide-spreading oak, and surrounded by a colony
of hazel nut trees.
There we sat in our easy chairs, and lunched,
and chatted, and read ourselves to sleep, and so
we passed the livelong day. Sometimes we
amused ourselves by watching the antics of that
bold young vole whose acquaintance I had
made last year, who, regardless of our presence,
would jump out of his hole in the bank, almost
under our feet, on to a tuft of drift weeds, and
search about for the particular succulent stems
that suited his taste. Of these he would gather
a full mouthful, and drag them up to his hole ;
munch away at them for a time, and then
another plunge for more. This little game he
seemed to be keeping up all day.
It was not on either day till after six o'clock,
when the sun was beginning to climb down
behind the western hills, that the fish made any
motion whatever ; then here and there the
small grayling, amid stream, began to make
ripples on the smooth surface of the water, and
BANK HOLIDAY FISHING. 105
later on a larger circle would be seen, and so by
degrees, and for a short time, certain portions
of the river, where the big grayling occasionally
flopped up, gave some sign that it was not
destitute of fish ; but they rose fitfully, and it
was not possible to see what they were rising
at, for there was no fly visible.
I caught a couple of brace of grayling the
first evening with the Red Tag a delusive
deception, like no insect that ever swam or
winged across the stream, but which has always
proved attractive to grayling.
On the evening of Bank Holiday I put on a
Red Spinner and thereby hangs a curious tale
of a singular incident which befell "The A. A.,"
and but for which I should not have thought it
worth my while to write anything about so in-
significant an event as our summer visit to our
pleasant river of unattractive name.
" Red Spinner " is the nom de guerre of a
celebrated writer and angler, whose pseudonym
I had once innocently maligned in a way which
brought a mild remonstrance from him. Now,
as the sequel will show, he hath his revenge.
Red Spinner has justified the adjective I then
applied to it, in a personal and very touching
manner.
The little incident to which I have referred
came about in this way an incident which very
narrowly escaped being a very serious, if not
io6 BANK HOLIDAY FISHING.
dangerous, accident : I had begun our evening
fishing by catching a nice grayling in the pub.
field, my spirits rising, as the grayling evidently
were beginning to rise. I strode on up to the
Leg of Mutton, and then I cast my Red Spinner
over a big grayling that had just risen in mid-
stream, but he declined the offer ; again he
came up, and again I placed the Spinner on the
point of his nose, so to speak, but he still
declined. I was perhaps a little flustered at
this contempt. I drew up hastily, and as I drew
my foot slipped in a hole ; the consequence was
that a gust of wind brought line and gut in a
confused heap bang into my face ; there was no
entanglement, for I threw it all out again
straight over the still rising fish, but with the
impression, delicately conveyed to my ears by
the sound of the swish of my line, that the fly
was off. I wound up accordingly, and I found that
off it was, and I began making arrangements
for putting on a fresh one. I called out to the
Major who was near by and told him to have
a go at my grayling while I replaced my lost fly.
" Lost your fly ! " cried he, looking curiously
into my face ; " why, it 's sticking in your nose !"
And he burst into a roar of laughter.
Then I, wondering, put my finger to the tip of
my nose ; not as the usual uncomplimentary
mark of contempt, but really to find out whether
or no his exclamation had any truth in it. And
BANK HOLIDAY FISHING. 107
there, to my astonishment, my horror, and, I
may add, my terror, I found the hook firmly
embedded in the cartilage at the very point of
my nose, with half an inch of gut attached to it.
When I made the recast I must have driven the
hook deeply into the nose, and far below the
barb. The force of the throw is indicated by
the fact that the gut had snapped. And yet,
most marvellous thing of all, I never felt the
slightest pang or twitch, and I was absolutely
ignorant that the fly was where it was until my
son exclaimed, " Why, it 's in your nose ! "
I have on more than one occasion expressed
some compunction on the score of giving pain
to fish by hooking them by the lip or gill. I
regard my own personal experience as a scien-
tific solution of the problem my doubts are now
removed if I, a full-blooded animal, can feel no
pain when a hook is violently forced into the
cartilage of my nose, how much less can a blood-
less fish, with no sensorial nerve, be supposed
to feel when gently drawn from his natural
element and landed on the green sod?
The Major, on examining the case more
closely, took a more serious view of it than his
first unseemly burst of hilarity indicated ; he saw
that the hook was in deep below the barb, and
that a surgical operation was necessary to get it
out.
Of course we knocked off fishing at once,
io8 BANK HOLIDAY FISHING.
much to our regret and disappointment, for it
was our last night, and the grayling were show-
ing up.
Slowly and solemnly I marched home, cover-
ing up my face with my handkerchief whenever
I met anyone on the road. When I reached
the house I examined my nose in a looking-
glass, and I confess I felt woefully discouraged ;
the barbed-betrayer was there firmly fixed, and
I saw there was nothing for it but to send for
the doctor.
Our good friend M., the farmer, always ready
to help us in an emergency, at once drove off
three miles in search of one, and meanwhile I
managed to wash and brush up, and I sat down
to dinner with the hook in my nose, and with
the most gloomy forebodings as to what would
have to be done when the doctor arrived.
In about two hours he came, and found me
smoking a cigar, for, in spite of my misgivings,
I was determined to put a bold face on it. He
examined the position very carefully, shook his
head sadly, and said it was a very difficult, and
he feared painful, business. He thought at first
it would be possible to break off the eyed shank
of the hook, strip it of its feathers, and press the
whole hook through without the necessity of
cutting a hole in my nose ; but this was found
impracticable, he had no weapon strong enough
to cut the steel wire. A strong pair of scissors
BANK HOLIDA Y FISHING. 109
was first tried, which made me feel, I fancy,
something like what a bull may feel when they
are putting a ring in his nose ; but nothing
came of it. The scissors were of no use. So
said the doctor, " There is nothing for it but to
use the lancet. It is but a small one, I shall
not hurt you much. Bring me a basin of warm
water and a sponge."
I pictured myself with my nose split open, and
a gash that would be a mark for the remainder
of my days, and my heart sank within me.
He seized my nose and the Red Spinner
between the finger and thumb of his left hand,
and with his right he began slashing away with
his lovely little lancet. I bore it all manfully,
although I thought surely he is cutting off the
end of my nose ! But really and truly, before I
had time to cry "Jack Robinson " he had done
the job, and gracefully handed me my Red
Spinner, of which the Major took possession,
and means to preserve it as a memento of what
we all look upon as a singular and curious in-
cident.
I cannot close this chapter without expressing
my thanks to the young surgeon who so deftly
performed this really delicate operation, for it
will hardly be believed that he has scarcely left
a mark behind him. A man who can perform
so small an operation so perfectly may safely be
intrusted with more serious work.
CHAPTER XIV.
ON THE EDGE OF EXMOOR.
EPTEMBER 8, 1897. "The Flying
Dutchman " flew with me from Pad-
dington to Dulverton in four and a half
hours, only stopping at Bath, Bristol,
and Taunton for a few minutes. It was a lovely
morning, and so continued until we reached
Taunton. Then it began and continued to rain
for the remainder of the day and the following
night ; it ceased not until the next morning.
At Dulverton I was met by a good friend, my
future host, with a dogcart ; we started for a nine
miles' drive in a torrent of rain. A little way out
from Dulverton station, which is two miles from
the town, we found the road blocked and im-
passable. There were probably sixty or seventy
hunters men, women, and boys waiting at the
foot of Allen's Wood for the stag to come down
to the river ; but it was getting late, and he
came not, nor was the sound of horn or bark of
ON THE EDGE OF EXMOOR. in
hound to be heard. They seemed confident,
however, that down through the wood he would
presently dash, and so in a downpour they
waited, with more patience, perhaps, than polite-
ness. We were blocked, and instead of moving
they only gave us a grim stare. At last one of
them, more considerate than the rest, shouted,
" Make room there ; surely these gentlemen
have as much right to the public road as you."
This remonstrance moved them, and they
gradually formed a double row, leaving us
room to pass between. They looked thoroughly
soaked, and some of them woebegone; certainly
it was a trying time for them but so it was for us.
I came into this country to fish, not to hunt,
and so I have not heard whether they killed on
that occasion ; but I was afterwards told by one
of them, an enthusiastic hunter, that they made
a record run four days later, on Saturday, the
nth. The stag led them right on to the rocks
near Porlock, and got fixed on a ledge of rock,
where the hounds could not reach him. Lord
Ebrington tried to dislodge him. He climbed
down to some point under the ledge where the
deer was lodged, and had a very narrow escape
indeed, for the deer, in his excitement, dislodged
large blocks of rock, which came rolling down
over his lordship's head. Fortunately, none of
them touched him. He had, however, in his
eagerness, reached a point from which he could
112 ON THE EDGE OF EXMOOR.
not retreat, and they had to lower ropes for his
rescue. I tell the tale as it was told to me, but
as the " Field " correspondent was present, I
have no doubt a more detailed and accurate
account will be found in that paper. " Words,"
says the " West Somerset Free Press," "are in-
adequate to describe the entrancing beauty of
the scene, as the stag, still panting, stood
sharply defined against the clear blue sky, with
liquid eye turned upon his clustering foes a
hundred feet below, while three climbers slowly
close on him with the dreaded rope a real wild
scene of a grandeur such as is rarely known in
prosaic England, the whole lit up by the mellow
rays of the September sun."
Two of the hounds lost their foothold on the
yielding stone slides, and fell over the rocks.
One of them was rescued, but " Old Cheshire
Dreamer" will hunt no more.
To return to my own particular story. I may
say that mine host, whom I had never met
before, proved a very intelligent and interesting
farmer. We drove through some very romantic
scenery all the time in a downpour. We
travelled over Winsford Hill, where the Devil's
Punch Bowl is but as yet I have not seen it
and towards Exford, and finally he landed me
at his home.
Here it was that I was met by the Pro-
fessor, who had secured for me these pleasant
ON THE EDGE OF EXMOOK. 113
diggings, and who not only gave me the friend-
liest of greetings, but, as usual, had sacrificed
his own comfort by giving up his bedroom to
me, the best in the house. So here we are, nine
miles from the nearest station. The postman
climbs this hill (we are nine hundred feet above
the sea) only three days a week. The post-office
Jubilee regulations have not reached these parts
yet. If we want to communicate with the out-
side world oftener than this, we must trudge it
some three miles to the nearest post office.
Next morning, which was bright and splendid
after the previous month of rain, I was able to
take a general survey of my holiday quarters.
If all the world ; s a stage, and all the men and
women merely players, I have discovered in this
little corner of Somerset a special and peculiar
stage on which I can strut alone or in the Pro-
fessor's company. My stage is of green grass,
my audience the green, beautiful, and silent
woods which surround my theatre ; my orchestra
the birds, and my music the running, roaring, or
bubbling river down yonder three hundred
yards down a green precipitous slope, which
dips from the edge of my platform.
Yonder, far above the river and the woods,
but just on a level with my platform, floats
a great broad-winged buzzard ; still higher,
amongst the gods, as it were, up and beyond
the tops of the green woods, are cultivated fields
I
H4 ON THE EDGE OF EX MOOR.
of corn and wheat not yet gathered. I assure
you it is the prettiest amphitheatre that ever was
seen.
This was my first acquaintance with the
buzzard, a bird well known here. He is to be
distinguished from the hawk by his size and
sedentary disposition. He is about twenty inches
in length, and four feet and a half in the spread
of his wings. His habit is to sit for many hours
perched on a tree or some eminence waiting for
bird, reptile, or quadruped which may come
within his reach.
My platform is backed up by a very pic-
turesque old farmhouse white walls, thatched
roof, with a low, long frontage, facing a very
pretty flower garden, daintily laid out with
dahlias, love-lies-bleeding, marigolds, and many
other autumn flowers and ferns. I have tried in
my clumsy way to give a sketch of the house.
It is rough and imperfect, and I suppose no one
would imagine that behind that hedge a pretty
garden lies. It is in this picture of a " fit
retreat of health and peace" that the good
farmer and his wife, son, and daughter have
been so obliging as to find me lodgings for it is
a favour and here the Professor and I are fixed
for a time, to enjoy the lovely scenery, and to
catch as many fish as we can in the Barle,
which meanders down yonder in and out amid
the green foliage.
THE BUZZARD.
(Falco 1'iitco.)
ON THE EDGE OF EXMOOR. 115
A curious thing about this farm, so it seems
to me, is that our old friend, the sparrow, is no-
where to be seen. On the other hand, the place
is alive with the songs of robins before sunrise,
and on till long after sunset. Have the robins,
which are quite numerous, driven the sparrows
away ?
The greater probability is that they had gone
away to the stubbles, but as a matter of fact
I was told that at no time are they numerous
here. In the valley below an enthusiastic
clergyman had estimated that at least a hundred
different kinds of birds may be seen and heard
in their seasons.
The first night of my abode in this solitary
dwelling I was awoke in the small hours by a
weird and unearthly shrieking at my window
the cry was something like kirriuee, kirrwee !
It also disturbed the Professor on several occa-
sions. I am familiar enough with the hooting
of the common owl in the woods ; it was prob-
ably a screech owl, or a moping owl that " does
to the moon complain" ; at all events it was not
comfortable to be aroused by such an ill-omened
visitor.
So much for the surroundings. On the morn-
ing of the 9th we took a genera, survey of the
river in the immediate neighbourhood, and in
the afternoon I cast my first fly over the river,
and that was at once firmly fixed in an ash tree
n6 ON THE EDGE OF EX MOOR.
across the stream, over a deep pool there it
had to remain. That was my first lesson. The
fact is, however, the river just now is brimful,
and rushing along with rapid strength ; there is
no wading to be done, and to cast from the bank
between two alder or nut bushes that meet at
the top, with a shrubbery behind you, and bushes
or trees overhanging the water in front of you,
and a strongish wind blowing just the way it
ought not to blow, it is easily to be understood
how I got hung up before I became acquainted
with the habits and customs of this sprightly
river. I caught one trout, and the Professor
caught none, for it is not always given to the
wise and prudent to catch fish here babes and
sucklings in the art sometimes beat them.
On Friday, the loth, a lovely bright day, I
toiled all day in the hot sun and caught nothing.
The Professor caught two brace. There was no
rise ; wind north-easterly. We fished from the
bottom of Bradley Ham to Withypool. River
still too strong to wade. The Professor is good
at climbing alders and dislodging flies from the
topmost branches with a hook and spike fixed at
the end of his net handle, an ingenious arrange-
ment of his own contrivance, and I kept him
pretty well employed in this exercise. On one
occasion I sent him, or I had better say his un-
bounded enthusiasm sent him, to climb an un-
usually tall and bushy alder, and my fly was in
ON THE EDGE OF EXMOOR. 117
the topmost branch. It is not easy to climb far
up an alder, for the branches are slender and
snappish. He had got up almost near enough
to reach my fly with his hook, when the brittle
branch on which he was resting for support gave
way, and down he came, but caught by the
branches under both arms, and so he hung sus-
pended over the water for some time. He soon
struggled out of his troubles and landed on the
firm earth, but not until he had rescued my
" Coachman." The adventure shook him a good
deal. It was a glorious day the scenery in its
infinite variety of hills and woods and shades
and colours quite enough to satisfy me without
the mere secondary consideration of catching a
few trout. I suppose that is why I was not
eminently successful.
The next day, Sept. n, we started early. We
had a long day before us. Our host very kindly
devoted his valuable time to our service by
driving us in the morning to some distance
above Withypool, and leaving us there to fish up
the river, Landacre Bridge way.
Here was another delightful day. We fished
upstream with more success, for the river is
more open and accessible, and had lowered now
sufficiently to enable us to wade here and there,
and so to reach spots where the trout lay. Con-
sequently, when lunch time came, which we
partook of under the wide-spreading branches
n8 ON THE EDGE OF EXMOOR.
of a lovely beech, we had each a fair show of
pretty trout small, of course, for there are no
large ones. This, I may remark, is the country
of beech trees. The hedgerows are all beech,
and capital, impenetrable hedges they make, as
we occasionally found. We came upon one
which ran from the top of a hill sheer down to
the very edge of the water we must either
climb that hill to reach an opening or get round
the water end of it. Now, this lower corner of
the field was a bog, and through the bog we had
to struggle to get to the end of the hedge.
The Professor is generally the first to tackle
any difficulty, but he did not like this job, so I
led the way, and a nasty job it was. I squeezed
through thick bushes to the water's edge, and
then found myself suspended by a few roots and
brittle branches over an abrupt precipice of
six feet above the water, which happened to be
one of the deepest holes in the river. I held
on, rod and net in one hand, sometimes grasping
green ferns, which snapped easily, then by
seizing young ash or beech branches, I clam-
bered through. The Professor was not quite so
lucky. Just when he had reached the most
dangerous part his right foot slipped, and he
found himself hanging over the gulf below with
only one foot resting on a rotten root and his
hands grasping whatever they could seize ; but he
got through all right after an anxious struggle.
ON THE EDGE OF EXMOOR. 119
Then we fished on up Landacre way till we
came to the bridge a very picturesque bridge
of six arches, of which I am enabled to give an
admirable picture from the illustrated edition of
" Lorna Doone." Here it was that Jeremy
Stickles had a fight for life first with the
great floods that came down over the bridge,
and then with the three Doones. This illus-
tration is from a drawing by a local celebrity
(Mr. F. Armstrong). It realizes the scene
perfectly.
Here it is an understood thing that, although
the fishing ticket issued by the Exe Conservancy
Board embraces the waters of the Exe and its
tributaries in the counties of Devon and Somer-
set, a certain formality has to be gone through
at this bridge in order to appease the owner of
this particular property. This formality consists
in walking up a steep hill on the South Molton
turnpike road, to Landacre House, where you
have to sign your name in a book kept there for
that purpose. Under ordinary circumstances
this would not be a very pleasant performance,
for it is no joke to climb such a hill as this in
heavy wading boots, after having walked for
many miles up the river. But to us, notwith-
standing these troubles (and we were almost
exhausted when we reached the house), it was a
peculiar pleasure, because the farmer and his
wife, Mr. and Mrs. Hill, and Miss Milton are all
120 ON THE EDGE OF EXMOOR.
old friends of the Professor. Consequently, we
were well entertained with most acceptable re-
freshments. Miss Milton told me that she was
born in that house, and her father lived there
for ninety years.
In turning over the leaves of the old book in
which we recorded our names, it was with a
peculiar sensation that I came across two names
not unknown, and, I may say, very dear to me.
The date was September, 1873 just twenty-four
years ago ; the names were R. B. Marston
(the "Major" of my booklets) and his brother,
E. P. Marston. This Landacre House is a very
interesting old farmhouse, and is situated on
the side of a hill, which commands grand views
over Withypool Common and Exmoor, the sides
of which, here and there, show signs of having
been cultivated in times gone by, when wheat
and oats were worth growing. The river here
runs broad and rapid, and free from encum-
brance of trees and bushes quite open, but by
no means free from a greater nuisance in the
way of bogs and swamps, which make the
approaches to the water sometimes incon-
venient. We returned to our pleasant residence,
which is not to be reached from any point
without considerable exertion.
In the evening, sitting round a cheerful fire,
we consulted our hosts as to the best way to get
across country to view the Doone Valley which
ON THE EDGE OF EXMOOR. 121
is supposed to be some fourteen or fifteen miles
away and it was finally agreed that he should
drive us over on the Monday or Tuesday follow-
ing. Our host told us, with a merry twinkle,
that he had not read " Lorna Doone," and so was
not acquainted with John Ridd ; " but," said he,
" I have often heard tell of one Ambrose Ridd,
who was a giant in his day. He may have been
the father or the uncle or the cousin of John.
In those days, and, indeed, in my own time, I
remember well when there were no wheels to be
seen in this country. My father was the first to
introduce them. Everything was carried on the
backs of horses in great sacks lime, corn, wool,
etc. On yonder hill are still to be seen the old
packhorse roads. Well, this Ambrose Ridd had
a load of wool 240 Ib. for South Molton Fair.
He scorned the use of horseflesh, and so took
the sack on his back and trudged over hill and
dale to South Molton. In passing through a
gate on a common the tail end of his sack was
hooked to the gate, probably by his Satanic
Majesty, 1 but, quite unaware of this, Ambrose
still trudged on, and when he reached his de-
stination the people were astonished to see the
gate still hanging on behind, and Ambrose was
as much surprised as they were."
Sunday, Sept. 12. My good friend the Pro-
1 Bewick has a tailpiece representing his majesty
engaged in a similar performance.
122 ON THE EDGE OF EXMOOR.
fessor, being a staunch churchman, took me
away on foot to Withypool Church, in which
church he has a special and peculiar interest.
Some eighteen years ago the tower of the old
church showed signs of danger, and it was
decided to pull it down, and down they pulled
two-thirds of it, when they found the stonework
so solid and so hard that nothing less than
dynamite could move it, and so there it remains
in this tumble-down state to this day. The
church itself was also in a sad ruinous state, and
so ten years ago my active friend, the Professor,
set about and organized subscriptions for the
restoration. He constituted himself architect,
surveyor, and clerk of the works. He devoted
himself heart and soul to the work, besides con-
tributing largely towards the cost, and so, with
the active assistance of the farmers in the
neighbourhood, he completed the renovation of
the interior in a very elegant and tasteful
manner. But as regards the tower, there it
remains as it was when pulled down years ago,
the stones piled up along the sides of the
churchyard, whilst the part still standing has
been roughly covered in. Pitiful it is to see, for
the old church is splendidly situated, and forms,
or rather will form when its new tower is built,
a most picturesque object in the landscape.
Why does not some millionaire in the county
take it in hand and find the money, it requires
ON THE EDGE OF EXMOOR. 123
only a few hundreds, and it would be a good
deed to perform ?
One of the Professor's friends whom we met
at church, learning that we were bent on an
expedition in search of the Doone Valley,
very kindly offered to drive us there ; and as he
had been stag-hunting over there the day before,
and knew the best road, we accepted his kind
offer. And so our friend and host was, I think,
a little disappointed that he was superseded.
On Monday, the I3th, nothing occurred of
consequence, except that, fishing up Bradley
Ham way I broke the top joint. I had hold of
a good trout (\ lb.), which is as big as they are
made in these rivers. This trout gave me no
end of trouble, scuttling about from one boulder
to another ; and it was in pulling him out from
under a rock that my rod snapped, but I
managed to bag my trout. I was helpless, for I
had no string, or wax, or anything to make a
splice with, and so I had to whistle for the
Professor. He soon turned up sliced a piece
of tough young ash, drew forth from_his capacious
pockets just the string that was wanted, and
also the necessary wax, and in a jiffy my rod
was restored to working order. We fished on
up the Ham till the appointed time for return
had arrived. Then, punctual to the minute, our
host came down the hillside with a couple of
ponies to carry the fatigued and weary and
124 ON THE EDGE OF EXMOOR.
hungry anglers back home. We rode the
ponies, and our host trudged all the way back.
He is a much older man than I, and I felt con-
siderable compunction in allowing him to walk
whilst I was riding his beautiful four-year-old
cob " Progress " ; but, in truth, I was so ex-
hausted and footsore, that a three miles' walk
over those hills after fishing and wading all day
in heavy indiarubber soled boots would have
been pain and grief to me. I cannot recom-
mend such soles for such a rocky stream, for
they are as slippery as eels. The Professor
wore leather waders, with rough nailed leather
soles. With these he could safely grip stones
over which I was constantly stumbling.
CHAPTER XV.
THE DOONE VALLEY.
N Tuesday, the I4th, we started for
Comer's Gate, on Winsford Hill, there
to meet the doctor, and there punctu-
ally to time agreed we saw a pair of
splendid grays come prancing over the hill.
The doctor drove his own horses, but had hired
a commodious wagonette, and in this carriage
was an enormous basket, occupying a fourth of
its whole length, and in this basket was con-
tained but I am not going to tell what it con-
tained and sitting next to this restaurant on
wheels, on each side, were two charming young
ladies Mrs. E. and her niece and next them
sat a fine cockaded and liveried groom, and still
there was room for us pilgrims of the moor
the Professor occupying the box seat.
I might also have said that the carriage was
freighted with a still more important personage
than any I have yet mentioned the pet darling
126 THE DOONE VALLEY.
of the ladies and the idol of the doctor. He was
a little black thing, with prominent eyes, an
abnormally big forehead, betraying wonderful
intelligence, if not water on the brain. He had
four little spindles for legs, and he weighed just
3 Ib. He was not quite the sort of being for ex-
ploring the wildest part of Exmoor ; but it was
considered impossible to leave him behind on
account of his extraordinary ability for getting
into trouble. Sometimes he would get faceache
or toothache, or lumbago, or half choke himself
with a chicken bone. He wore a white coat,
trimmed with scarlet (if I remember rightly), and
he reposed and dozed quietly on the lap of his
mistress the whole journey. In fact, he behaved
in a quite gentlemanly way all the time. He
was all smiles and caresses, and knew nothing
of snapping or snarling, or barking and biting ;
and so we travelled, up hill and down dale, till we
came to Larksborough, a lone old farmhouse
and stabling, all in a state of dilapidation and
ruin, the house being now occupied by a Scotch
shepherd. Our splendid team had done this
rough work as if they had been used to it all
their lives, whereas, in fact, they had been more
used to the King's Road, Brighton. The groom
found stabling for them of some sort, and as
they carried their own provisions they were soon
made happy.
Now, here we are landed in the very centre of
THE DOONE VALLEY. 127
Exmoor as wild and dreary a country as could
be seen, and we had to trudge the remainder of
the way. Just down below us is a small gutter,
through which some water trickles ; it is the
head water of Badgworthy River. We had now
to follow this stream, which gradually grew into
a respectable brook, for three or four, or perhaps
five, miles, before it reaches that renowned fall
up which John Ridd climbed and found Lorna
on the top of it. We kept the brook in view,
though sometimes climbing over hilltops and
crossing goyals. We had travelled in this way
about three miles, when Mrs. E. began to think
that it was too fatiguing for her little darling,
and so she sat down on the hillside waiting our
return. She was, I am sure, in mortal fear all
the time lest a rabbit should cross her path. In
that case the spirit of her darling would be irre-
pressible. He would burst his bonds and be
after that rabbit, and then if he caught him there
was the terrible possibility that the rabbit might
eat him ! The consequence of all this was that
the little tyrant had to be wrapped up and coddled
all the time we were away.
We pushed along our course over hill and dale
for about a mile further, the young lady tripping
it over the rocks and swamps just as Lorna her-
self might have done, and never owning to be
the least bit tired. We crossed the foot of
Thomshill, a place which, according to " Lorna
128 THE DOONE VALLEY.
Doone," "folk were loth to speak of even on a
summer morning ; that Squire Thorn, who had
been murdered there a century ago or more, had
been seen by several shepherds, even in the
middle of the day, walking with his severed head
carried in his left hand, and his right arm lifted
towards the sun."
We reached a point called the Hut Circles,
three hillocks, very picturesquely situated, and
each of them covered with heaps of stone, which
had once doubtless formed huts. But it seemed
clear that as yet we had only reached the head
of the Doone Valley, which extends for three or
four miles down. Perhaps we had reached the
spot where it was easy to imagine the young
Lord Alan Brandir met his tragic fate at the
hands of Carver Doone. In order to get further
down it was necessary to cross the stream, which
now ran strong and full, and there is no bridge.
We were obliged to give it up for the present,
fully intending to return another day and attack
the valley from another point.
We have not seen all we wanted to see, for
it is hard and toilsome work on a very hot day
to climb up and down these rocky hills ; and it
became evident that we must pursue " The
Badgery " two or three miles further before we
can get into our minds a realistic picture of
the Doone Valley.
The great " Wizard of the West " has cast
THE DOONR VALLEY. 129
such a glamour of romance and unreality over
the glen of the Doones, that one's discovery of
the real valley may turn out to be somewhat
disappointing. My next expedition, if I am
ever permitted to make another, will be first to
discover Plover's Barrows, and so follow John
Ridd over the track of that singular loach fish-
ing expedition, which had such astounding
consequences. I have much pleasure in being
able to give an excellent picture of Plover's
Barrows, by Mr. F. G. Armstrong, from the
illustrated edition of " Lorna Doone." Therein
will be seen the River Lynn winding through the
hills, down which John Ridd (when he was
turned fourteen, and put into small clothes,
buckled at the knee) went a-loaching with a
three-pronged fork fastened to a stout rod. Two
miles down it is joined by the Badgworthy, up
which John went, and " had very comely sport,"
till he came to the water slide, which landed him
in the Doone Valley. Useless now for any bold
young angler to expect to find loach in either
of these streams John Ridd exterminated them.
During our drive back the admired and be-
loved miniature Jumbo behaved inmost becoming
manner, and was the centre of admiration of
all on board. We had a most delightful day,
and felt very grateful to our friends for giving
us the pleasure of their pleasant company, and
for our share in their carriage.
K
130 THE DOONE VALLEY.
The next day, the iSth, we began our fishing
at Withypool, where on our return we should
find a brace of nags to convey our weary bones
back home. The most that can be said of it is
that it was, as usual, a pleasant day. I shot
ahead of the Professor ; and, as I was approach-
ing the part of the river on which Landacre
House looks down from a considerable distance,
I heard the furious barking of dogs, and three
big sheep-dogs came tearing down the meadows.
I was puzzled to know what they were after, but
on rounding a corner of the hill I descried away
off in the distance to my left, that is, on the
crest of Withypool Common, a solitary horse-
man, making his way slantingly towards the
South Moulton Road, which stretches away up
over Exmoor from Landacre Bridge. This
horseman was immediately followed by many
more. They came over the crest by the dozen,
and galloped off in the same direction. Others
came up from the other side down by Landacre
House, and galloped over the bridge and up the
road, making for the top, and there on the crest
of the distant hill scores of them stood, seem-
ingly not knowing which way to go, but gradu-
ally they vanished from my sight and I saw no
more of them. I suppose the stag and hounds
had gone over before I heard the farm dogs
bark, and so I missed what must have been a
very picturesque sight.
THE DOONE VALLEY. 131
My business is to fish, not to hunt, but really I
should have been delighted with " Progress "
under me to have followed those gallant hunters.
I toiled back till I found the Professor, who had
given me up for lost. We caught a good many
trout that day. A worthy dweller in Withypool,
always alert for odd jobs so long as they don't
mean real work, who answers to the name of
Luke, brought our walking boots up to meet
us, and gladly we exchanged our heavy waders
and walked back to the Royal Oak. Here we
found the place crowded with hunters whose
horses had become blown and had given up the
chase. They were all crying out for gruel or
bran mash for their horses, and we had a diffi-
culty in getting our steeds ready. At last we
mounted, fishing rods in hand. Don Quixote-
like we charged the hill in front of us. Heavily
laden we were, and not quite in hunting trim.
But away up yonder gallops a redcoat, said by
the knowing ones to be Mr. Anthony, the
popular huntsman, followed by a few other
riders. This gallant stag a galloper they call
him must have led them a pretty chase, for it
was several hours since I had seen the hunters
disappear over the Western Hill, and now here
they are still pursuing over yonder Eastern Hill
towards Winsford.
He was started in the morning in Hawkridge
Covert, off by South Hill Cottages to Withypool,
132 THE DOONE VALLEY.
and away then west by Knighton Combe and
Brightworthy Barrows to Delacombe and Kings-
land Pitts, West Holland Coverts, and at last
back up by Bradley and Comer's Gate. Our
route took us up to Comer's Gate and across
Winsford Hill, and when we got up there the
shades of evening were closing around us. But
my plucky " Progress " stood still, lifted his head
ears forward and neighed. Then he wanted
to be off. He had heard at a great distance the
sound of horses galloping over the heath, and he
longed to follow. I only caught sight of one
hunter, who soon disappeared towards the
Devil's Punch Bowl, and I managed to keep
" Progress " in the way he should go, for it
would not be a pretty picture to see me, fishing
rod and net in hand, two big baskets on my
back, galloping after the hounds. I am sure
" Progress " would have been off had the hounds
come in view. They had a most exciting run
of over thirty miles, but the stag did them at
last he was driven to soil in King's Weir,
where he was lost in the dark.
I do not feel it to be incumbent on me to
describe the flies mostly successful on this water.
We tried a variety, some good, some not ; but
the fly for this river, I was confidently told by
an old hand, is one which neither I nor my ex-
perienced friend, the Professor, have yet seen.
He called it the Devon Green. Will some good
THE DOONE VALLEY. 133
reader, who knows it, be good enough to state
what are its constituent parts? It is, I believe,
specially intended for greenhorns or green
hands.
From what I hear, I fancy the trees and
bushes which encompass the Barle in the wooded
valleys are hung with as many "imitations" as
there are real flies on the water. I am not the
only one who got " hung up."
Thursday, i6th, was a dull, cold day. The
Professor laboured hard at the stream, and
brought home a good dish of trout. I fished
only for an hour, and, not feeling well, I gave
it up. Next day, I7th, heavy rain all day. I
rested at home to recruit.
On Saturday, i8th, we fished in the afternoon
up Withypool way, and caught a few nice trout
under difficulties, for we had a storm of thunder
and lightning and heavy rain, followed by a
hailstorm, and afterwards a strong wind.
On Sunday, iQth, we walked across country
to see the wonderful Torr Steps (formerly called
Tarr Steps), built over the Barle, not far from
Havvkridge, by his Satanic Majesty, according
to " Lorna Doone"; but another tradition is
that it was built by a man of the name of Tarr
centuries ago. The enormous blocks of stone
are supposed to have been dug out of the rocky
bed of the river a few yards above ; at all events,
there is a great pool there where the salmon lie.
134 THE DOONR VALLEY.
Many years ago, one dark night, the Pro-
fessor, accompanied by our " Major," met with
a singular adventure here. They had been
spending the evening with the late rector close
by, and were crossing this river, homeward
bound, on a very dark night by this bridge of
steps, when the Professor slipped and fell plump
on his back into a deepish hole in the river. The
Major went into the stream and got him out.
The Professor had a quantity of loose silver and
a half-sovereign in his pocket, and these coins
all fell into the water. Next morning they went
down to the place, and by much groping in the
bright water recovered the treasure ; the half-
sovereign hangs on the Major's watch-chain as
a memento to this day. The Professor showed
me the exact spot where the accident happened ;
lucky for him that the back of his head just
escaped a big rock that stands up there above
the water.
The Rectory of Hawkridge and Withy pool
combined stands in a romantic spot a few
hundred yards above the river five miles away
from one parish and two from the other. We
spent a pleasant hour there.
On Monday, the 2oth, the morning was fine,
but windy. We ought to have gone on another
expedition in search of the Doone Valley, but
our steeds were not available. On our route we
should have passed Larksborough, on Exmoor,
THE DOONE VALLEY. 135
and there we should have witnessed a lively
scene, for there was an assemblage of two or
three thousand people to witness what they call
Point-to-Point races a five miles' run across the
moor from Larksborough to Simonsbath. I did
not hear what the result was ; but two of the
consequences were that a rider fell and broke
his collar-bone, and a horse had his leg broken,
and was promptly shot. It must have been a
lively scene on that wild spot, in the wildest part
of Exmoor.
Tuesday and Wednesday were devoted to the
quiet and peaceful recreation of angling, with
fair results, and on Thursday I am homeward
bound. This little spell of outdoor life was
very pleasant for me and very healthful, but all
too short, for I enjoyed everything with the
exuberant feelings of a boy, though an old one
my pleasant residence, my pleasant, humorous,
and delightful companion, the delicious Devon-
shire cream and whortleberries, and, above all,
Devonshire junket, otherwise named by the
Professor " Patent slip down " ! all of which were
prepared for us by our venerable hostess and her
charming, sprightly, bright-eyed daughter.
On my return homewards over Winsford Hill,
we made a short detour to get a glimpse of the
far-famed Devil's Punch Bowl, which is quite
worth going a long way to see. It looks like an
enormous scallop taken bodily out of the side of
136 THE DOONE VALLEY.
the mountain. I had only time to get a peep
over the rim. It is more in the shape of a horse-
shoe than a bowl, three parts of it being quite
circular, and the fourth opening out to the valley
below, looking northward. I will not hazard a
guess as to the number of hundreds of feet of its
depth, or as to its circumference. Its sides are
of grass and fern, but I should think it would be
perilous to attempt its descent.
Our sanguine expectations of October grayling
fishing on the Itchen have, alas ! come to
nought. The Major had serious illness in his
family, and I was otherwise prevented. That
big trout which our Major hooked and lost in
May, with a hook and two yards of gut attached
to him, still remains in his lair ; let us hope that
we shall find him in the full enjoyment of health
and freedom, with a pound added to his weight,
when the spring-time comes.
CHAPTER XVI.
FAMILIAR WILD BIRDS." 1
HESE handy little volumes are most
charming. In the first place they
contain about one hundred and fifty
exquisitely printed coloured plates of
as many " Familiar Wild Birds," and innumer-
able little woodcuts such as the specimens I am
enabled to give by the kindness of the publishers.
As to the coloured plates a practical angler
might be tempted to put each of these lovely
birds dressed as they are in their natural
plumage under a microscope, in order to see
what feathers from breast, wing, or throat would
make the most killing imitations of winged
insects wherewith to deceive the lordly trout or
thymy grayling. But this was not the object
which Mr. Swaysland had in view when he got
Mr. Thorburn to make these exquisite pictures.
1 " Familiar Wild Birds." By W. Swaysland. In
four crown 8vo volumes.
L
138 "FAMILIAR WILD BIRDS."
They are intended to enable us who are not
ornithologists, but who love all the birds we
meet with in our wanderings, to distinguish them
by their familiar names. For myself, I may say
that my early boyhood was spent " by meadow
and stream." In lovely woods and by pleasant
rivers I made acquaintance with very many of
the Familiar Birds here so accurately depicted,
and I knew them by their local names, some-
times differing from those given here, e.g., for
the Redstart our name was Brantail, etc. An
interval of sixty years is " the difference 'twixt
now and then," and in that interval my woodland
wanderings have been of rare occurrence. I
have forgotten the names of many birds, and
these pretty volumes bring back to me not only
forgotten names but pleasant memories of days
gone by. These coloured plates are wonderfully
accurate, not only in the colours of the plumage,
but in delineament of shape and attitude of each
bird, and there is at foot of each a note showing
the proportion of size which the picture bears to
the original bird.
Mr. Swaysland's text is as useful and as in-
teresting as are his pictures. In addition to the
coloured plates, the text is liberally interspersed
with pretty woodcuts, which add much to the
attraction of the volumes.
In the text the most persistent, prosy, prac-
tical angler might learn to distinguish a black-
THE CREEPER.
(Certhia fa tit Hi a ris . )
"FAMILIAR WILD BIRDS." 139
bird from a starling, a swallow from a sand
martin, or a swift from a leather-bat, and would
come to know in time that birds are far more
interesting beings than fishes. Mr. Swaysland
tells you all you want to know about them, their
habits, their migration, how and where they
build their nests, and the colour, markings, and
size of their eggs, with much more useful in-
formation.
If I could find it in my heart to blame these
volumes for anything, it would be because the
birds are not assorted they are thrown together
anyhow thus the shorelark is found in one
place, the skylark in another, and the woodlark
in another, and so with the buntings, and many
others. I am at a loss to know why birds of a
feather were not brought together.
It is true that when I come to the end of
vol. 4 I find an excellent classified index, in
which the birds are all brought together accord-
ing to their scientific affinities. There is also
what I must venture to call a very bad general
index, under which I can find neither bunting,
nor sandpiper, nor snipe, nor wren, nor wagtail,
nor probably a score of other familiar names.
If I want bunting, I must look to black-headed or
common, and I must search all through the index
before I can find anything about a snipe or a wren.
I strongly advise Mr. Swaysland to cancel
this index and substitute a decent one for it.
140
1 FAMILIAR WILD BIRDS."
This small defect being remedied, I have
nothing but praise for these volumes, and can
very sincerely commend them to the attention
of all who are not, but who wish to become,
familiar with the names as well as the bodily
presentment of all the birds that haunt our
woods and streams.
CHISWICK PRESS: CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND co.
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