DICK, "we'll make a shift, if you please, Sir. Jiggered if we 'aven't been and dropped into a bloomin' ironmonger's shop!!!" Eighth Entry. From barbel to gudgeon seems a drop. But DOTTY DICK say there's no chance of any other sport to-day. both BUMPSTEAD and Worst of it is, when I "strike" one, I whip" it over my head, 'tis so light. This annoys BUMPSTEAD, especially when the fish lands down his shirt-collar, and the hook in his neck. My erratic movements upset him, the swim, and pretty nearly the punt. BUMPSTEAD swears, I put down my rod and sulk. DOTTY DICK catches the infection of ill-temper, and makes rude allusions to "parties with the St. Witus's dance who won't never make no fishermen-not them!" Then he drinks too much ale and gets first noisy then morose. He grimly prophesies that we shall "ketch no more fish this bout." Nor do we. A Thames fisherman once in the sulks is implacable. "gudgeoning." So ends my first day's now. Eleventh Entry. - Appreciate JANE'S sardonic "Ah! Been to Scotland with BUMPSTEAD and a bushel of flies. "Tossing BUMPSTEAD wields his "pole" (as Yanks call it), as though it the Caber" easy exercise compared with "throwing a fly. were a switch, and drops his fly where he pleases as deftly and delicately as "a bee on a posy." I agonise with my "pole" until my wrist feels gouty, and drop my fly, with a flop, on boulder, up a tree, in crevice of rock, in small of my back, or BUMPSTEAD'S Glengary-anywhere, anywhere out of the-water! 66 Hook fish at last, however. Forty-pounder, if an ounce!" swears BUMPSTEAD. Feels a hundredweight, at least. Drags me where it pleases, into stream, over slippery boulders, through painfully prickly bushes, and numerous defiles of sharp-edged rough-surfaced rocks. Feel all aches and abrasures, sprains, and smarts. Finally parts company with a plunge and a pop, carrying tackle with him, leaving me on my back in a chilly pool, with my heels in the air, and waving (like Marmion), "the fragment of a-rod!" Twelfth Entry.-"Trolling for pike in winter is splendid sport," says BUMPSTEAD, enthusiastically. "If there's a lark that an angler must like, "Tis mounting a gorge-hook, and trolling for pike. You'll find sluggards loving, But give me sharp weather, and trolling for pike!" Twelve-foot trolling-rod and eighty yards of line not easy to handle-especially when one's fingers are frozen numb by cold winds, and one's eyes half blinded with driving sleet. Try to "cast my gorge-bait" skilfully, and allow my line to "fall in free coils by my feet on left side." No go! Always shy the bait as though it were a stone, making it fall into water with huge "plosh," invariably in wrong place. And the "free-coils" always get about my feet in complicated, inextricable tangles and snarls. Feel like frozen fly in a titanic spider's web. Sneeze violently and continuously-which frightens away fish, says BUMPSTEAD. So it seems, for Ninth Entry." Bottom-fishing is the prose, fly-fishing the poetry of angling," says BUMPSTEAD. "I'm a float! I'm a float! Ah! that's all very fine, "The dexterous drop and the delicate draw, But float-fishing is not a poetical line. Seem nicely in keeping with rhythmical law. If angling in Helicon bardlings should try, If the angler would rise to 'the lyrical cry,' Be sure, my dear boy, they would fish with a fly! Let him try to tempt troutlings to rise to a fly!" Poetry or not, I find wading in Thames shallows slippery and sloppy work. Slide into holes and trip over snags. Branches too, are bothersome. Pretty to talk about, "whipping a stream." But line and hook seem to prefer to "whip" the willows, the bushes, the banks, the posts and rails, my own hat or the bottom of my creel, anything rather than the water. And I "catch" osier-sprigs, my weed-tangles, bits of wood, small slimy stones, everything but dace. At last I make a wild cast, the line quite irrespective of my wishes whirling high over a clump of osiers. What "comes back" to me is a girl's hat-and a scream. A pair of sweethearts in a canoe, spooning under the lea of that osier clump, quite unsuspected by me! Alarm of Amanda, rage of Amandus. Stepping forward hastily to apologise, I trip over a sunk branch, and flop bodily into a pool. Tableau, tangle, trip, impromptu "tub," temper!!! If this is "poetry," give me "dry" prose! Tenth Entry." Fly-making great fun!" says BUMPSTEAD, patting his podgy book affectionately. "Fish take flies, and flies then take 'em. Means teaching me to be wise man. They seem to make flies out of everything that is outof-the-way, useless, and hard to procure. Coloured silk, crewel, sheep's wool, hog's hair, gold and silver thread, silks of all colours, feathers of all fowls that fly, or don't fly, from peacocks to plovers, from canaries to capons, from mallards tododos, I daresay; snippets from my mare's tail, pullings from my dun heifer, clippings from JANE's dresses, and hairs-surreptitiously-from her head, all sorts of stickinesses and nastinesses in the way of varnish, dubbing, &c., &c., &c. JANE mocks me, immersed in multifarious "materials" like a milliner, and anathematising like an angry cabby. Wait till I bring you home a thirty-pound salmon of my own catching!" I cry. Ah!" says JANE, significantly. we cer tainly catch nono during long December day of "Sport." Sport to BUMPSTEAD very nearly death to me. While making this Twelfth, and last entry, am propped up in bed (a "feather-bed non-angler now) slowly recovering from attack of rheumatism. Am also quite recovered from acute attack of Angleomania. Never again with you, BUMPSTEAD! Have had plenty of time for "Contemplation," but it has not been "Recreative." Its result is that I've made JANE happy by promising to sell off my room-full of "tackle" in one cheap Job Lot," make waste-paper of BERNERS, WALTON, COTTON & Co., and trust Providence, and be quiet, and (not) go "aangling"! 66 AMATEUR. THE DIARY OF AN JANUARY.-Feel that the national stage requires regeneration. Doing fairly well with Dr. IRVING and Mr. TOOLE, but might do better. Will let the British Public see how Hamlet should be played by appearing as the noble Dane myself. Think I will give selections. By this means avoid tedious scenes without Hamlet. In other words without myself. Must be supported by efficient company. Two ladies, Mrs. and Miss BOSWORTH BROWN, for Queen and Ophelia. On being approached, they are very pleased; only the performance must be for a charity. Could not think of appearing in public except for a charity. Decide that performance shall be for a charity. FEBRUARY.-No idea it was so difficult to organise theatricals. Ladies all right, but men difficult. All approved of the notion of producing Hamlet, but wanted to play the same part. In fact, Hamlet. So selfish of them! Playing Hamlet myself. Ama MARCH. Amateur Hamlet doing nicely. Rehearsals as a whole difficult. Hard to get the company together. If "Hamlet invariably present." King is available, Queen obliged to go to the country. Both say they will be all right on the night. Sure I have heard that phrase before-somewhere. However, at all rehearsals, Hamlet invariably present, I am Hamlet. Believe I shall be good. Ask members of the company what they think of my reading. They reply, "Splendid; but what do I think of theirs?" I answer 66 'Splendid! teurs awfully selfish; only think of themselves. Have secured a charity. Universal Philanthropists declined. Thought play-acting wicked. Go for Fund for Ancient Omnibus Horses. APRIL.-First of the month fixed for performance. of Ancient Omnibus Horses disposed of in tableaux vivants. Notion of Secretary. My selections given in full. Rest of tragedy in dumb show. Mrs. BOSWORTH BROWN amusing as Ophelia. Fostered notion that Hamlet must have been mad. Miss BosWORTH BROWN a feeble Queen. Frightened at the Ghost. And at everyone else. After paying expenses, Ancient Omnibus Horses came off rather shabbily. "Two pounds ten and six," says Secretary, pleased. Friends More than forty shillings better than list charity performance. Besides his name mentioned in the Press notices. Distinct gain to the institution. require a name. Why not Band of Amateur Benefactors? Yesbut why? Because we are benefactors-at least, en amateur. JUNE.-Band of Amateur Benefactors hard at work. Proceedings take the shape chiefly of flirtation and strawberries and cream. East-End occasionally mentioned in the course of the proceedings. Exhibition of Picture-Frames growing. Viscountess FELSTEAD, going to sing. Lady UPHAM PARKE, going to dance. Eminent maître de ballet, teaching her. Of course step-dance. Requires long trains. Two of them-worn at the side-made of muslin, and held up like wings. Young Curates assisting with a dance of their own. Catamarango of the time of JAMES THE FIRST. Eminent maître de ballet teaching them too. "Meant to represent the movement of the cockatoo," says he. When actually danced, large cloaks and rapiers necessary. Cloak has to be thrown up over head to represent raising of the feathers. Sword assists operation. At practice, umbrellas and Invernesscapes are used as substitutes. Curates volunteer to do this to amuse their poorer parishioners. Nice idea to bring class and class together. Nice idea too, to think it over in the drawingroom of Vicountess FELSTEAD's town-house, and the grounds of the place of Lady UPHAM PARKE in the country. Matters progressing satisfactorily. JULY.--Take it all round, the performance of the Band of Amateur Benefactors was a success. But the working-men and their wives and families, for whom the performance was organised, did not come up-but this was rather an advantage than otherwise. Left more room for the friends of the performers. The Catamarango a great success. Encored twice. Second time the Curates only gave the last figure, when the dancers go through a performance suggestive of the Cockatoos putting their heads in the sand, thinking no one can see their bodies. Slight confusion of ideas. Some slight difficulty at first because leading Curate insisted that the stage was too low to show his legs. He wanted the footlights sunk, and the scenery next. In fact, ordered the alterations. Fortunately Local Surveyor interfered, and matters were left as they were. A full audience. And, to make things complete, one working-man turned up, looking beautifully clean. Discovered, subsequently, that it was a gravedigger, who had been induced to look on, thanks to the influence of the Vicar. AUGUST.-People going out of town. Secured a yacht-The Lady of the North Pole. Everything very perfect. Man-o'-war MAY. Think painting requires patronage. Royal Academy decent, but scarcely up to the mark. Painters mean well. Directors of the New Gallery, too, have good intentions. But scarcely enough. Want new blood. Need new ideas. Don't know a good picture when they see it. Rejected mine. Not that that has much to do with it. At least, not much. However, West End hopeless. Did not appreciate selections from Hamlet. Went to sleep, although SHAKSPEARE's tragedy was played by amateurs. Why not assist the East End? Viscountess FELSTEAD Honorary Treasurer. Committee meet at house of Lady UPHAM PARKE. Tea, cakes, and business. Rough idea-help the working-classes. Also idea for roughs. Levity depreciated. I suggest Pictures. Some one says, Why not frames? Idea catches on. Picture- E.H, frames better than pictures. Often more valuable. And artistic. Viscountess FELSTEAD says she can sing. No one contradicts her. Too polite. Viscountess says that, while she sings, workingclasses can look at the picture-frames. Notion accepted, but without enthusiasm. Having assembled, some one suggests we discipline on board-salute the flag on going aft as if it were a quarterdeck. Crew in jerseys embroidered with "Queen of the North Pole." Skipper in cap with badge. Have joined the Athenian Yacht Club, and am flying the burgee. Wearing correct yachting costumeserge-blue, and crossed flags on boating-cap. Friends come on board to see me, sit on easy chairs, sip Cup, and make jokes about going down stairs, and smack sails as if they were judging the points of a horse. Am con an authority upon all naval matters. Answer their questions with more ease when the skipper is out of earshot. He makes me nervous as he knows more about nautical affairs than I do. Have lots of sea-books, and Lord BRASSEY'S An Catamarango. nual. Lengthy stay in the harbour. Say I am kept there by stress of weather. If rough condition of ocean speaks for itself, it would declare we are expecting a "capful of wind with some breed of horses (don't know how, but that's the idea), and revive good old English custom. Call my vehicle "The Merry Times,' and have relays at various points. Livery stableman manages it for me. Run from Slowborough to Nettle-on-the-Rash. Six miles there, six miles back. Quite the coachman. Livery stablekeeper supplies drivers when necessary. Drivers usually necessary, in fact, invariably. Make them do all the routine work. Guard in red with a horn. Guard has a selection of fragments. Fragments of "Ta-ra-ra boom de ay!" also "Last Rose of Summer." "Learnt 'em," says he, in his cups, "Band-river-steam-boat." He wears a white hat, made of beaver. So does the driver, when I am looking. Hear (from a friend) that when my back is turned they both put on flannel caps. Pity. Flannel caps spoil the effect. I wear horsey get up. White hat, small drab coat with large bone buttons. Button-hole. Horse-shoe pin. Shiny boots and white spats. Big cigar. Sometimes drive the team for a dozen yards on starting and arriving. Driver beside me to take the reins in turning a corner. Or if I meet a butcher's cart, or worse, a tricycle. Rest of the journey ride inside reading the newspaper. Passengers charged ten shillings each. That was the charge for the first day. No one came, so lowered the fare to sixpence a-piece. Company consequently more numerous than select. Coach unpleasantly full on Bank Holiday. Paid that day, but on no other. Stopped coach communication between Slowborough and Nettle-on-the-Rash abruptly. OCTOBER.-Think I ought to retrench. To effect this desirable object will try amateur house-keeping at the sea-side. Season nearly over, so should get apartments at a moderate rate. Try Slushington-on-Sea. Landlady requires eight guineas a week for a sitting-room and a bedroom. Determine to do my own ordering. Find that a sirloin of beef weighing from seven to nine pounds cooks like a beef steak. Enough for dinner, but not for next morning's breakfast. Joint of mutton weighing from six to eight pounds produces a dish that looks uncommonly like a chop. "Good Mother," says servant who waits on me, "brings up children on nothin'." The children apparently live in the coal-cellar or on the roof. Must do this, as the house is quite full of other sojourners. Appears I am a great tea-drinker--get through half a pound a day. Also fond of butter-a couple of pounds of "best fresh" twice a week. I discover, too, that I eat sacks of potatoes, and (I think) bushels of flour. Fancy, after all, I can retrench better at my Club than furnished apartments. NOVEMBER.-Retrenchment incomplete, so shall try my hand as an amateur financier. Know CON TANGO of the Stock Exchange. CON is an awfully good fellow, and has promised to give me lots of tips when I ask him. Go to City and consult him. "Do I want to invest, or only to flutter?" If former, recommends Consols--if latter, Deferred Greenlanders for the rise. "Greenies" (short Stock Exchange slang for Deferred Greenlanders) expected to go up with a rush before the next account. Like his idea of a flutter. I ask if I can make more by "Greenies" than Consols. CON says, "Yes." I can make about two pounds ten by Consols in twenty years, and "six hundred quid" in five minutes by "Greenies." Prefer "Greenies." CON says "then that will be a flutter." Very well. CON asks how much I am willing to lose. Reply with a laugh that "I am willing to win as much as possible.' CON rather annoyed. Says he never "plays the fool in business hours." Become serious myself. Arranged to risk six hundred on "Greenies," six hundred to be the extent of cover. CON wants to know if I will order myself, or leave it to him? As he has expressed annoyance at my levity, I say I will leave it to him. Come West and spend the rest of the day at my Club watching the tape. Greenies seem to be falling. They come out with Greeks, Portuguese, Italians, and Egyptian Unified. Hang all these stocks! Who cares about them? Man standing near me tells a friend that he has had a good tip. He has sold Greenies" for the fall. They are going down like winking. Should like to ask him all about it, but can't; never been introduced. Receive later a contract-note telling me officially that I have bought some thousands of Deferred Greenlanders for the account at 37. Look at evening paper and find that Deferred Greenlanders closed at 333. So far as I can make out am not exactly recouping. However will leave matters in the hand of CON. He is an excellent man of business, and my friend! A fortnight later know I have lost my six hundred! CON tells me gravely (he never plays the fool in the City) that it would have been better had I invested in Consols. Give up the idea of becoming an amateur financier for the present. DECEMBER. 46 A Flutter. A idea good. So will go there --via Monte Carlo. patient (especially an amateur patient) may surely choose his own route. Arrive in the Riviera, and find it pleasant. However, as an amateur invalid don't think I should run the risk of the night air, so seek shelter in the Casino. Take three or four days in mastering the system. And then it has rather the better of it. Discover that I am penniless. End the year distinctly impoverished. Still alive, but only living en amateur. |