e appreciated from youth upwards, I entertain great respect. There
is no dulness about it. Go down to the fords where the dace are
gathered, and you shall see the water boiling with their gambols, and
shooting silver as they wheel and frisk about. Take them under any
circumstances, so long as they are in season, and they always impress
you with their liveliness of character. The roach in biting sometimes
scarcely moves the quill float; the dace startles you by its sudden,
sharp onslaught. A roach firmly hooked ought never to be lost; it
requires a dexterous hand to pilot a dace safely out of a rapid
current--that is to say, a dace of two or three to the pound.

And the dace is deserving of respect because it will honestly take the
fly. True, the roach does so too, occasionally; but the dace, any time
between June and September, rises regularly. We used to get them in
the Colne considerably over 1/2 lb. in weight, and an afternoon's
perseverance and a little wading would, in favourable weather, put from
twenty to thirty fish into your basket. But it is questionable whether
this can be done now. Many a pleasant evening have I spent by
Thames-side, beginning at Ham Lane and working upwards, or crossing the
river below Richmond bridge; fishing always with fine tackle and a
black gnat somewhere on the footline.

The finest bit of sport I had with dace was in a mill stream a couple
of miles out of Norwich. It was specially welcome because quite
unexpected. We were on a pike-fishing excursion, and the fly rod was
put into the dog-cart to provide bait for the party. The great mill
wheel was revolving, and the pool swirling and foaming, when we
arrived, and a few small fish could be detected in the shallow water.
The general outlook was not inviting, but the apparatus was put
together on the chance of things proving better than they looked.
Chance favoured us. The first cast produced a dace on each hook, and
in a quarter of an hour I had whipped out a good supply of bait for the
trollers and spinners. So long as the dace were rising all the pike in
the river could not tempt me to accompany them. I stuck to the
whipping, and only left off when I was too tired to wield the rod any
more.

But enough. It would not be difficult to call up best-day memories of
gudgeon, of bleak, and even minnows; of tench, and carp, and bream.
The moment for my departure, however, has come. The little mare is
ready, the notebook mu