ROUND SOUTHSEA.
BY FRANCIS FRANCIS.
:
A friend had asked me to go over with him to Petersfield, where he had leave for me for a day’s fishing in the upper part of the Rother. A good many years ago I had been there, and had good sport at Petersfield, but I had quite forgotten the stream. Accordingly, one market day, my friend (who had dealings in agricultural matters) and myself took the early train and ran up to Petersfield. The day was oppressively hot, the cattle in the trucks, and the market too, looked as if the rinderpest would have been a relief to them, but as we had appointed to go on that day, and were expected, we could not well break the engagement, though I should have preferred any other day. At market we met the young farmer to whom the water I was going to fish belonged, and after receiving his directions as to the best water, &c., we left him at business and made a start. We had a walk of about two miles, and on the way we passed a large pond of considerable extent, in which the carp were throwing themselves up all over the pond every second. The water was thick and green, like green-pea soup (having stagnated, I suppose), and doubtless the fish required oxygen, and took the readiest means of obtaining it. I stood and watched them for some time, but I saw nothing over three or four pounds put up. The country here is very wild and open. It looks almost as it might have done in the time of the Saxons, and gave one a melancholy hipped sort of feeling, which the sport I got did not tend to dissipate. I walked up the stream for about a mile. It was a nice little beck, running between highish banks, over a marly bottom, boring holes for itself under banks and bushes, much overgrown, and not very suitable to fly-fishing. But whether it was that the day was utterly unsuitable or no I cannot say, but I never even saw a trout or a rise in this part of the stream, and should be disposed to think that if it is not very well poached, it is very well fished. After a time feeling considerably baked, we turned down towards the farmhouse where our host met us, and we slaked our thirst in copious draughts of new milk, adding thereto some. pears and cake by way of refection, and then we went out to look at the lower part of the river. This was a long dead open mill head, as still as glass, like a Dutch dyke in fact, and in which the catching of a trout under the circumstances would have been almost as likely as the catching of a crocodile or a hippopotamus. The sun shone down, and the river seemed almost to quiver under his beams. As the cool of the evening descended, we walked somewhat higher up, where the stream flowed sluggishly under heavy and thick bushes, and here we saw three or four fish rise, but very faintly and gingerly; and whether they were very well educated, or whether the day was really utterly hopeless or no, this deponent sayeth not, but they would not look at my flies, and in the end we trotted back to Petersfield empty in a variety of senses, not much prepossessed with this temporary acquaintance with the Rother. Our young friend, however, told us that at times he caught some very good trout there, which no doubt might be the case in more favourable weather.