When fishing in Hampshire some ten or twelve years ago, a moorhen came out of some bushes near me and rushed down the brook, with its feet just trailing along on the surface. As it was going over my line I gave a twitch and hooked it in the under part of the foot, where the skin is as tough as leather. Then I had a lively time for about twenty minutes, up and down, in and out; but my tackle was good, and I handled the rod carefully, till at length the bird was pretty well tired, and got in among some bushes, and a friend who was with me went into the water and got it into the landing-net. I preserved it and had it mounted.

On another occasion I saw a rat swimming across the stream, and pitched my fly just beyond him and hooked him firmly. Of course he dived, but could not get away from me, and at last came ashore into the long grass where I was standing. It was nearly dark and I could not see him, but presently found he had got the line entangled round my legs. I threw the rod down, and stamped about, thinking to tread on him, but suppose I trod on the gut, for he got away with it. When I picked up my rod I found I had stamped on it also and broken it; therefore I determined to let the next rat alone.

Another time I had been fishing late, with a white moth, and, on leaving off, twisted the gut and fly round my hat. Getting through a hedge the gut caught in a bramble, and the fly went into my scalp, and the more I pulled the worse it was. The same friend was with me, and helped me out of it. We then went to a doctor, who snipped away the hair and cut the hook out.

It is not very often that an eel is taken with a fly, but I was once fishing with a Palmer, and, being tired, very carelessly laid my rod down with the fly in the water, which, of course, sank to the bottom. I strolled about, and coming back picked up the rod, and found an eel attached, which I landed.