MISERIES OF FISHING.
I.
Making a great improvement in a receipt which a friend had given you for staining gut—and finding that you have produced exactly the colour which you wanted, but that the dye has made all your bottoms quite rotten.
II.
Suddenly putting up your hand to save your hat in a high wind, and grasping a number of artificial flies, which you had pinned round it, without any intention of taking hold of more than one at a time.
"And having occasion to regret the decayed state of the hand-rail," &c.
To face page 28.
III.
Leading a large fish down-stream and arriving at a ditch, the width of which is evident, although the depth of it may be a matter of some doubt. Having thus to decide very quickly whether you will lose the fish and half your tackle, or run the risk of going up to your neck in mud. Perhaps both.
IV.
Feeling rather unsteady whilst you are walking on a windy day over an old foot-bridge, and having occasion to regret the decayed state of the hand-rail, which once protected the passing fisherman.
V.
Fishing for the first time with flies of your own making—and finding that they are quite as good as any which you can buy, except that the hooks are not so firmly tied to the gut.
VI.
Taking out with you as your aide-de-camp an unsophisticated lad from the neighbouring village, who laughs at you when you miss hooking a fish rising at a fly, and says with a grin. "You can't vasten 'em as my vather does."
VII.
Making the very throw which you feel sure will at last enable you to reach a fish that is rising at some distance—and seeing the upper half of your rod go into the middle of the river. When you have towed it ashore, finding that it has broken off close to the ferule, which is immoveably fixed in the lower half of your rod.
VIII.
Feeling the first cold drop giving notice to your great toe that in less than two minutes your boot will be full of water.
IX.
Going out on a morning so fine that no man would think of taking his water-proof cloak with him—and then, before catching any fish, being thoroughly wet through by an unexpected shower.
X.
When you cannot catch any fish—being told by your attendant of the excellent sport which your predecessor had on the same spot, only a few days before.
XI.
Having brought with you from town a large assortment of expensive artificial flies—and being told on showing them to an experienced native, that "They are certainly very beautiful, but that none of them are of any use here."
XII.
After trying in vain to reach a trout which is rising on the opposite side of the river—at last walking on; and before you have gone 100 yards, looking back, and seeing a more skilful friend catch him at the first throw.—Weight 3 lbs. 2 oz.
"Looking back, and seeing a more skilful friend catch him at the first throw."
To face page 30.
XIII.
Having stupidly trodden on the top of your rod—and then finding that the spare top, which you have brought out with you in the butt, belongs to the rod which you have left at home, and will not fit that which you are using.
XIV.
Having steered safely through some very dangerous weeds a fish which you consider to weigh at least 3 lbs., and having brought him safely to the very edge of the bank,—then seeing him, when he is all but in the landing-net, make a plunge, which in a moment renders all your previous skill of no avail, and puts it out of your power to verify the accuracy of your calculations as to his weight.
XV.
Fishing with the blowing-line when the wind is so light that your fly is seldom more than two yards from you, or when the wind is so strong that it always carries your fly up into the air, before it comes to the spot which you wish it to swim over.
"Probing the bottom in front of you with the handle of your landing-net."
To face page 32.
XVI.
Wishing to show off before a young friend whom you have been learnedly instructing in the mysteries of the art, and finding that you cannot catch any fish yourself, whilst he (an inexperienced hand) hooks and lands (by mere accident of course) a very large one.
XVII.
Attempting to walk across the river in a new place without knowing exactly whereabouts certain holes, which you have heard of, are. Probing the bottom in front of you with the handle of your landing-net,—and finding it very soft.
XVIII.
Going some distance for three days' fishing, on the two first of which there is bright sunshine and no wind, and then finding that the third, which opens with "a southerly wind and a cloudy sky," is the day which a neighbouring farmer has fixed upon for washing two hundred sheep on the shallow where you expected to have the best sport.
XIX.
Being allowed to have one day's fishing in a stream, the windings of which are so many, that it would require half a dozen different winds to enable you to fish the greater part of it, from the only side to which your leave extends.
XX.
Finding, on taking your book out of your pocket, that the fly at the end of your line is not the only one by many dozen which you have had in the water, whilst you have been wading rather too deep.
"You must sit down on the wet grass whilst your attendant pulls them off, in order," &c.
To face page 34.
XXI.
Wading half an inch deeper than the tops of your boots, and finding afterwards that you must carry about with you four or five quarts in each, or must sit down on the wet grass whilst your attendant pulls them off, in order that you may empty them, and try to pull them on again.
XXII.
Jumping out of bed very early every morning, during the season of the May-fly, to look at a weathercock opposite to your window, and always finding the wind either in the north or east.
XXIII.
Having just hooked a heavy fish, when you are using the blowing-line, and seeing the silk break about two feet above your hand; then watching the broken end as it travels quickly through each successive ring, till it finally leaves the top of your rod, and follows the fish to the bottom of the river.
XXIV.
Receiving a very elegant new rod from London, and being told by one of the most skilful of your brother anglers, that it is so stiff,—and by another, that it is so pliant, that it is not possible for any man to throw a fly properly with it.
XXV.
Being obliged to listen to a long story about the difficulties which one of your friends had to encounter in landing a very fine trout which has just been placed on the table for dinner, when you have no story of the same sort to tell in return.
"Finding that they are all about to be immediately driven away by five-and-twenty cows."
To face page 36.
XXVI.
Hooking a large trout, and then turning the handle of your reel the wrong way; thus producing an effect diametrically opposite to that of shortening your line, and making the fish more unmanageable than before.
XXVII.
Arriving just before sunset at a shallow, where the fish are rising beautifully, and finding that they are all about to be immediately driven away by five-and-twenty cows, which are preparing to walk very leisurely across the river in open files.
XXVIII.
Coming to an ugly ditch in your way across a water-meadow late in the day, when you are too tired to jump, and being obliged to walk half a mile in search of a place where you think you can step over it.
XXIX.
Flattering yourself that you had brought home the largest fish of the day, and then finding that two of your party have each of them caught a trout more than half a pound heavier than yours.
XXX.
Finding yourself reduced to the necessity of talking about the beautiful form and colour of some trout, which you have caught, being well aware that in the important particular of weight, they are much inferior to several of those taken on the same day by one of your companions.
XXXI.
Telling a long story after dinner, tending to show (with full particulars of time and place) how that, under very difficult circumstances, and notwithstanding very great skill on your part, your tackle had been that morning broken and carried away by a very large fish; and then having the identical fly, lost by you on that occasion, returned to you by one of your party, who found it in the mouth of a trout, caught by him, about an hour after your disaster, on the very spot so accurately described by you—the said very large fish being, after all, a very small one.
XXXII.
Arriving at a friend's house in the country, one very cold evening in March, and being told by his keeper that there are a great many large pike in the water, and that you are sure of having good sport on the following day; and then looking out of your bed-room window the next morning, and seeing two unhappy swans dancing an awkward sort of minuet on the ice, the surface of the lake having been completely frozen during the night.
R. P.
London,
March, 1833.
F. R. Lee, Esq., R.A.