RE

CHAPTER VI.

EADER, if you be of Byron's opinion, that anglers are detestable creatures, and therefore to be detested by the reasonable portion of humanity, if not actually tortured,* you will do well to skip this chapter; for I give you fair and honest warning that it is my intention to devote it entirely to my piscatorial adventures at Mont Dore. I think that my brothers of the angle will thank me for so doing. For should they follow my advice, and spend a summer in wandering through Auvergne, they will be glad to have a few hints respecting the capabilities of the rivers and lakes of that province. Mr. Murray's guide book is not wholly silent on the subject. The compiler thereof—or of the Auvergne portion of it— if no angler, is at least fully aware of the excellence of trout; for he tells us, in more than one place, that the rivers and lakes in Auvergne furnish delicatelyflavoured trout, but he is wholly silent as to the best means of capturing them.

However, I felt obliged for the information; and

* And angling, too, that solitary vice,
Whatever Izaak Walton sings or says;

The quaint old cruel coxcomb in his gullet
Should have a hook and a small trout to pull it!

DON JUAN.

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ANGLING IN FRANCE.

as soon as I had determined on visiting Auvergne, I resolved to take my fishing-tackle. Nor had I reason to repent doing so; for though my fishing exploits fell far short of those recorded by anglers in Scotland, yet I derived considerable amusement from them.

To the humble individual who has not the good fortune to claim acquaintance with the land-and-water aristocracy of England, the lakes and rivers of France will be pleasant places. On their shores, he need not apprehend being warned off by the rough voice of some game-preserving Cerberus, provided that he use no more deadly apparatus than rod and line. For, although the French propriétaires have the right to keep their land free from trespassers, yet they are so numerous, and their holdings so small, that the angler is never prevented following his pastime. Thẹ French Fishing Laws-which, I understand, have not been altered by the new republican government -contain the following article:

"It is permitted to every individual to fish, with a floating line held in the hand, in the waters, rivers, lakes, and canals, the times of spawning excepted.'

Thus the angler in France may roam freely from stream to stream as he wills, provided that, in the pursuit of his sport, he respect the law.

To me there are few circumstances more annoying and pleasure-destroying in a day's fishing, than to be accompanied by a gamekeeper, who, for the ostensible purpose of landing your fish, adheres to your side

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like a leech during the entire day. The angler will soon be made aware that he has other duties to perform, besides those connected with the landing net. I was fishing, a few summers ago, in the waters of a famous English river, preserved by a gentleman who accorded me permission. The day was most auspicious for sport; and though anglers are generally as much disposed to grumble against weather as farmers, on this occasion the most fastidious would have held his peace. The river, I was assured, abounded in trout; so I put my rod together under pleasant anticipations of success. Softly fell my fly at the tail of a promising stream, and quick as thought was it seized by a fine fish. In a few minutes the speckled beauty was in the net, from whence I expected to see him transferred to the creel. But his good fortune interposed: the gamekeeper drew forth from his capacious pockets a weighing machine, declared the captive one ounce short of the proper weight, and threw him back to his watery home. Reader— and now I may address you as a dear brother of the angle-do you remember the size and shape of a two-pound trout wanting one ounce? Of course you do. Well, you must confess that it costs a pang to part with such a prize. My trout was not in the situation of those described by Gomesius, who declares, in his 'De Sale,' that Pisces ob amorem marcescunt pallescunt, &c.'—he was a fine fat fish, giving no outward indication whatever of having been

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crossed in love.

6

And so,' said I, to my attendant, 'no one is allowed to kill a trout under two pounds in your master's preserves?' 'No, sir,' was his reply. And pray,' I continued, are there many fish above that weight in the waters?' The fellow grinned, and replied, 'Not many, I believe, sir.' As far as my experience of that day went, there was not one. I caught upwards of two dozen trout, but no single fin did I bring home; not one being entitled to the weighty honour of appearing at table.

Now, who but the easiest-going Cockney, who, sitting in a velvet-cushioned arm-chair in a punt, calls it fishing, would give one farthing for such a day's angling as I have described?

Give me, rather, a thousand times, the freedom of the mountain stream, where, though the trout be small, one is left unconstrained and at liberty to mingle one's spirit with the rushing waters, or become a part of the exquisite scenery through which the burn will lead you, with its playful and soul-soothing babble.

The angler must not expect large trout in Auvergne -two pound weights would be rarely wanted. The average size of the fish is half a pound. In the lakes they run somewhat heavier. Fly-fishing in France is almost unknown-certainly it is very seldom practised. At Mont Dore, where, at the time of my sojourn, there were some three hundred men with nothing to do but to bathe in the morn and amuse themselves during the day, not one possessed a rod,

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or, as far as I could learn, had ever fished. And yet trout were at the table-d'hôte daily. These were caught in the Lac de Guèry, about an hour's ride from the baths, by means of nets. The use of flies, natural or artificial, was utterly unknown; and when it became noised about that Monsieur l'Anglais had strange lures wherewith to catch trout, several gentlemen waited on me to inspect my rod, line, and fishing-book. With the contents of the latter they were greatly taken, and no skulking Indian savage ever examined the dress of an European with more curiosity or minuteness than my French friends manifested in examining the dressing of my flies. There was one individual, whom I had observed for some days poking his nose into every hole and corner, asking questions of everybody, and enacting the part of Paul Pry. It turned out that he purposed giving the French public the benefit of his observation, and that he was collecting matter to compile a small guide-book to the baths of Mont Dore. Some good-natured friend acquainted him of my angling pursuits, and advised him to learn from me how I caught trout. So one evening, as I was sitting in the gloaming on the parapet-wall before the hotel, swinging my legs, like a couple of pendulums, to and fro, and musing, I was accosted by the guide-book maker, who, doffing his hat, and bowing low, prayed that I would pardon him; but having heard that I was possessed of an infallible and most ingenious method of catching trout, he would feel