some five inches long, and a good supply of dace and chub; but had I deferred my visit till the ensuing month, my sport would not have been so good as during the haymaking season: numerous idle hands are in the annual habit of damming the water up, and bailing it out, by which unfair means the whole of the fish which may be in them are effectually abstracted. About Hanwell there are some very good jack at seasons, taken by using a live frog for a bait.

I have often repaired to Colne brook, which skirts Hounslow Heath, and met with an excellent day's diversion in relation to jack, dace, and gudgeon, particularly in that portion of the stream which runs through the grounds of the powder mills. At a tumbling bay near Brentford, which is formed by the waste waters of the New Cut, I have taken some very fine bream, perch, and roach, as well as eel. The ruff or pope abounds in this water. At South Mimms there may be caught some good jack, chub, and dace, and occasionally trout. The nume. rous ponds in and around Totteridge are rife with large carp, tench, perch, intermixed with gold and silver fish. The New River is not worth fishing till you come to Enfield, it is so frequently dragged by night through the operation of poachers. The East India Docks hold some very fine perch and large bream, but permission to angle in the same must be obtained from the authorities at the East India House. The rivers Lea and Ravensbourne teem with a large variety of fish. I have killed trout of one and a-half pounds weight just below the Temple Mills, and have taken chub repeatedly 4lbs. and upwards out of the Ravensbourne. The Clapham ponds used to contain good carp and eel, but they have of late years been lessened of their supplies. The Hampstead reservoirs hold a few carp and tench, but I never succeeded in capturing a single fish out of these waters, although I am given to understand that they obtain to a large size.

Of all these haunts I should recommend the angler to visit, in preference to any other around London, the Brent: here he will experience no interruption, but a good basket full of sport.

That there are many devotees to the amusing and highly interesting pursuit of angling, amid an extensive class of closely-confined mechanics in this overgrown metropolis, the various fishing clubs distributed throughout the most densely populated neighbourhoods tend fully to corroborate. But these prisoners (for I can call them no better) of six days' servitude in the week are prohibited from following up their piscatorial recreations on the Sabbath, and therefore it is exceedingly seldom, throughout a course of years, that such persons can enjoy an opportunity of casting their lines upon the water in quest of the sport I have before adverted

to.

I have, in years gone by, however, known well-established, soundgoing tradesmen, and studious literary members of the diurnal press, making it a constant practice twice or thrice in every year to peregrinate into the country for a week or two, and indulge themselves, during the summer season, on an angling excursion.

The Thames at Staines (the bridge of which connects the counties of Surrey and Middlesex), was selected as a favourite portion of the river some fifty years ago for angling, and ever since that era our more modern London disciples of the piscatorial school have occasion to resort to it for the gratification of gudgeon fishing. Many a hearty dinner

have I enjoyed at the Bush Inn, on the Middlesex side of the bridge, on the sloping green lawn advancing to the water's edge, at that time occupied by its well known and much respected host, Tom White (as he was familiarly called by his friends), who spared no trouble nor pains to supply us Thames-going cockney adventurers with lamb and asparagus in the season, Thames eels, spitch-cocked, (delicious fare!) and a piece of boiled beef of his own curing. We had the gratification also of occasionally sitting down to a Hampshire ham, with green peas or Windsor beans, as it might the more conveniently suit the opportunity of our landlord. These were happy, by-gone days, but those who shared in the delights that attended them, with the exception of the narrator, have passed away in their generation. Old Mr. J. Crowder, of Warwicksquare, of Lloyd's Evening Post, Calder of The Englishman, Duckett of The Ledger, and Swan the King's printer at that time, composed some of the party above referred to, and nothing entertained us more than to hear C relate his encounters with the sturdy salmon he had manually to contend with, in the rivers of Scotland, whilst we were angling for diminutive gudgeons. But it did not seem to suit the mind of our Scottish companion to enter so heartily into the spirit of our Thames excursion as did we, the rest of the party, save and except in the participation of the choice viands, which appeared to be his chief theme of enjoyment.

Calder was no disciple of Walton: he was far better acquainted with the floating vacillations current upon the Stock Exchange, than those playful varieties of motion which so particularly characterize the float of a fisherman. He invariably pondered over some old numismatical record, his snuff-box resting on the seat by his side, whilst we, the rest of us, were actively engaged in pulling up and disentangling gudgeon from our hooks. On one occasion, we, the three parties above named, succeeded, in the course of six hours, in landing in our boat no less than seven dozen and five remarkably fine gudgeon, six couple of barbel, one of which outweighed 4lbs., three dozen and four roach, some of them of good size, and a good sprinkling of dace!

In that day, now nearly forty-five years ago, Richmond, Shepperton, Teddington, Twickenham, and Staines were much resorted to by such Londoners (gentlemen as well as tradesmen) as were devoted to the recreation of angling. It was at that time a popular pastime. The work of Izaak Walton was read and indulged in with surprising avidity. The localities he adverted to, when recounting his piscatorial adventures, his remarks, frankness, and the social style of language in which he was accustomed to express himself, attracted an extensive host of metropolitan admirers to follow the old fisherman's pursuits. It was an era which might possibly be looked upon as a crusade against the fishes. From the author's dialogical philosophy exercised in his writings, a new school sprang up, the disciples of which enthusiastically followed the dictates of their founder, so that it might have been regarded in the light of a piscicapo mania. There is a charming spirit of rural associations in the writings of Old Walton, which even up to the present hour plead forcibly to the human passions. The love of the waterchase; the pure air that is breathed in the pursuit of the same; the pellucid stream, waving over a clear sandy or pebbly bottom; the diversified songs of spring and summer birds the dapple-daised meads

bespangled with inexhaustible families of variegated flowers; the breath of healthy kine; the unaffected whistle of the shepherd's boy, and the village church bell, imparting to the ear the passing hours of the dayeach and all tend to inspire the heart, if not the soul, with an inexpressible degree of inward complacency. In Walton's day there were no railway-carriages constructed to convey us one hundred miles in the space of two hours to quite another part of the kingdom whence we left; green lanes, green meads, and quietude reigned, in his time, uninterruptedly; and there are some in this generation who naturally feel envious of those silent and retiring enjoyments which Walton experienced in his time, whilst they cannot reconcile their natural feelings to the whirlwind of modern expression and the gigantic effects of human improvements.

Many little books have been written on angling generally, within the last twelve or fourteen years; but not one of them bears the stamp or character peculiar to the familiar style of old honest Izaak Walton, nor do they immediately confine their attention to the fish that are to be met with in the adjacent districts of the metropolis. There are ponds or pits at Brentford well furnished with jack and other fish, as also in the Elstree reservoir, which might afford a recreative source of amusement to the patient angler, who has no higher pretensions than ground, or, as it is termed, bottom fishing. The trout streams contiguous to London, exclusive of the Lea and the Ravensbourne, are the Colne, which rises near Trotter's Park, South Mims, traverses through London Colney, Munden, and Watford in Hertfordshire; the Ver or Muse, which takes its rise near Redbourne, Herts, wends its way through St. Albans and Park Street, and eventually meets the Thames. Another at Carshalton in Surrey, which abounds in very fine trout, and at Uxbridge this latter fish may also be obtained. The largest trout taken with a rod and line out of the Thames, was captured near Teddington nine years ago, by a gentleman enjoying the pastime of fly-fishing (the palmer was the fly used upon the occasion): this fish weighed "nine pounds two ounces,' and was exhibited on the premises of Mr. T. Grove, the fishmonger at Charing Cross, with the identical fly infixed in the upper mandible of the captive, and the largest fresh-water eel hooked and secured in any of the rivers near London, was taken from a piece of water known as Otters Pool, near Great Munden, Herts., which weighed exactly nine pounds, and this sample was also exhibited on the above premises. There are many spots around the metropolis favourable to the pursuit of angling, but they are not or do not appear to be distinctly known or recognized. I have devoted this chapter with the intent and for the purpose of pointing out such localities as have come under my own immediate notice, to the observation and consideration of the London angler. July 4th.

Under the above title (which we borrow from the bard of Avon) it is our intention to treat of the manly recreations of "Merry England," occasionally interspersing them with sketches and anecdotes of those lovers of field amusements who have rendered themselves worthy of such a notice. Although we do not pledge ourselves to confine our remarks to the sports of the month, we shall, as far as is in our power, treat of those that are principally indulged in at the period our article will appear; and, to carry out this view, we commence with Cricket, which can be had to perfection during the generally fair month of August. Already the gatherings at aristocratic "Lord's," "The Oval," Peckham Rye, Hampstead, Battersea Park, and Streatham cricket grounds have commenced; and the lines of Cunningham, which are to this manly game what "Riflemen Form" are to the people of England, have been fully realized. The cry has gone forth:-

"Come on, lads! come on: come on, one and all;
Now shoulder the bat, and spin up the ball.

Take the field like young Trojans; your prowess essay,

44

While the batsmans cries "Ready" the bowler says Play;"
Then run like wild deer pursued by the hounds,
And ground your bat proudly just over the bounds!"

In the matches advertised to take place during the present month, we are happy to find the names of many of our leading aristocracy, for nothing tends more to promote a good understanding between the upper and humbler classes than the social intercourse which takes place during a game of cricket, when the peasant vies with the peer, the labourer with the landowner, the private soldier with the officer; each anxious to come off victorious, by the greatest score, or demolition of his adversary's wickets. In this manly English game, a nobleman's stumps may be lowered without any levelling system following such an event; men may be caught out without any slur to their characters-may run for their lives without any impeachment of cowardice-may "chalk up a long score" regardless of the consequences-may be "bowled" out without suffering more than a temporary defeat-and may forfeit their bail, free from the fear of legal consequences; in fact, there is no game which promotes health and recreation, good humour and social intercourse, more than this national amusement. Despite the remark of the French Countess, who, after sitting out a first innings, exclaimed "When does de game begin?" it is one that has been introduced with the greatest satisfaction in all countries in which John Bull congregates. ourselves have played a match at Enghien, near Brussels, eight

We

and-forty hours, before another species of ball practice was got up between Wellington and Napoleon the First. We have scored ten within a few miles of Paris, after the Allies had occupied that city. We have "gone in" on the plains of Abraham, near Quebec, where Wolfe died victorious; have handled a bat within sound of the mighty cataract of Niagara, much to the amusement of the inhabitants of the countries we have referred to.

Yachting, too, is now in full force; and never was there a period when this popular and national amusement was more patronized than at present. The number of vessels increase yearly, both in quantity and tonnage, and the men employed would, if a maritime war was unfortunately to break out, form a most formidable body against an invading enemy. We trust sincerely that such an occasion will not occur; but as we ought always to be prepared for the worst, and as one of the universally acknowledged principles is, that the best way of averting hostilities is to show the world at large that we are ready to take up arms at a minute's notice, we cannot help thinking that practical knowledge might be combined with pleasure on board the yachts of the respective squadrons. It must be quite evident to all who look attentively into the subject, that both by land and sea, the next war will be one in which the most perfect and scientific gunnery (whether with cannon, musket, rifle, or carbine) will be required, as will also the dexterous use of the cutlass and boarding pike. The power of steam will bring all opposing vessels at once to close quarters, and the success of the day will depend mainly on the effect of a well-directed fire and a hand-to-hand combat.

Now, although we do not belong to that class who may be termed the "kill 'em and eat 'ems," nor do we look upon one Englishman as equal to three Gauls, we do think that in danger and difficulties John Bull is superior to the rest of the world. If on board a French man-of-war a certain number of men, or the spars, are carried away by a round shot, great confusion is sure to occur, whereas in one of our ships the vacancies or loss are instantaneously and mechanically filled up and repaired; but, brave as our "blue jackets" are (and in an article upon yachting we confine our remarks to naval conflicts), every tar ought to be taught how to man a gun, and the use of small arms, rifle, musket, carbine, pistol, and cutlass. This brings us back again to the point from whence we started, which is, to recommend every yacht-owner to teach his crew the use of the above. Of course, in small "crafts" men could only be taught the principle of firing heavy guns; but they could daily practise firing at marks, and the pike and cutlass exercise. In order to encourage them in the above, prizes might be given to the most expert; and towards the end of the season a yacht review might take place, in which the proficiency of the crews could be put to the test, and honorary distinctions presented by the respective commodores to the most meritorious.

"Arm, yachtsmen, arm!" might furnish the burthen for another inspiring appeal to our countrymen. Having dwelt upon yachting in a national-defence point of view, we shall now treat of it as a peaceful pastime, offering such remarks as may be available for those who possess vessels, as well as for those who are in search of them.