Sporting notions of present days and past

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IN THE OFF SEASON 283
Already brothers of the angle are trudging
up the barge-walk, intent on making sure of
favourite pitches. Cold work, you are afraid?
Bless you! the metropolitan bank fisherman does
not mind cold. I would like to bet that if you
met the last train sent out now from Waterloo
on a Saturday, you would find get out at points
more or less handy for the river patient sports-
man, whose programme includes trudging some
miles to selected spots, and waiting as best they
may till daylight doth appear and a line is worth
wetting. Cheery and inviting is the river for scull-
ing—that is, absolutely perfect--and, what is
more, quite free from chance of bother with craft.
A nasty selfish thing to say, is it not, implying
that you want all the good things yourself?
Please do not take me that way, I only mean
that so happens you would have no bother about
keeping a lookout for steering.
Over the way the Island has been improved
greatly, thanks to Mr George's moving the ship-
building fixings to the Middlesex side of his eyot,
so that you see a deal more of the land, which,
with a little touching-up, can easily be made
much more pretty than it was. You do not get
so much out of a wintry morning on the river as
you can out of a summer, but still there is plenty
to go on with. You miss the bathers (I always
wonder that there are any in the Thames, they
are for the most part so badly treated), and here a
word about
the
Christmas swim—the Serpentine
Club's race. One or two writers have treated
this as rather a desperately rash undertaking. I
can wish them nothing better or more enjoyable
than a dip in winter water—provided, that is,
they are all right for dressing, and not obliged to
7
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