Although its production was undertaken at the instigation of a friend, the writer himself assumes the entire responsibility for a book he feels to be without excuse - save the irrepressible loquacity of the angler whose eagerness to share with others all he knows and much of which he knows nothing, is within the experience of everyone who owns his friendship. The book contains little that is new. It supplies no felt want. Though the reader may find in it an occasional hint rot altogether valueless, its purpose is not instructive; it merely records the impressions of a casual angler whose methods are neither artful in any sense of the term - nor scientific, and who angles as Sarah Battle's young acquaintance took a hand at whist - with the object of unbending his mind. The writer makes no claim to the possession of originality; he is not a person of many inventions; his ingenuity is unequal to the feats some other fishermen perform. In difficulties he is without resource.