Friday, July 10, 2015

Selectivity Anthology Snippets _History-Part _3- Mr. Castwell

                         Heaven but the Vision of Fulfilled Desire-Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
The Story of Mr. Castwell
Mr. Theodore Castwell , having devoted a long, strenuous, and not unenjoyable life to hunting to their doom innumerable salmon, trout and grayling in many quarters of the globe, and having gained much credit among his fellows for his many ingenious improvements in rods, flies and tackle employed for that end, in the fullness of time died and was taken to his own place.
St. Peter looked up from the draft Alan sheet at the entry of the attendant angel.
“A gentleman giving the name of Castwell. Says he has a fisherman, your Holiness, and has “Fly Fishers Club, London” on his card”.
“Hmmm”, says St. Peter.”Fetch me the lecture with his account”.
St. Peter perused in it.
”Hm-mm”, said Peter,” Show him in”.
 Mr. Caswell entered cheerfully and offered a cordial right hand to St. Peter.
” As a brother of the angel-“, he began.
”Hm-mm, said St. Peter.”I am sure I shall not pealed to you in vain for special consideration in connection with the quarters to be assigned to me here”, said Castwell.
’Hm-mm, said St. Peter.”I have been looking at your come from below”.
’ Nothing wrong with it I hope, said Mr. Caswell.
”Hm-mm,said St. Peter”I have seen worse. What sort of quarters would you like?
’Well, said Mr. Caswell, you think you could manage something in the way of a country cottage of the Test Valley type, with modern conveniences and say three quarters of a mile of one of those pleasant chalk streams, clear as crystal which proceed from out the throne, attached?”
“Why yes”, said St. Peter. I think we can manage that for you. Then what about your gear? You must have left your fly rods and tackle down below. I see you prefer a light split cane of 9 foot or so, with appropriate fittings. I will indent upon the Works Department for what you require, including a supply of flies. I think you'll approve of our dressers’ productions. Then you will want a keeper to attend you,”
“Thanks awfully, your Holiness,”said Mr. Caswell that will be first rate. To tell you the truth, from the Revelations I read I was inclined to fear that I might be just a teeny-weeny bit board in heaven.”
‘In----hm-mm,” said St. Peter, checking himself.
 It wasn't not long before Mr. Castwell found himself alongside in enchantingly beautiful clear chalk stream, some 15 yards wide, swarming with fine trout feeding greedily; and presently the attendant angel handed him the daintiest, most exquisite, light split cane rod and conceivable -- perfectly balanced with reel and line -- with a beautifully damped tapered cast of incredible fineness and strength -- and a box of flies of such marvelous tying, as to be almost mistakable for the natural insects they were to simulate.
Mr. Castwell scooped up a natural fly from the water, matched perfectly from the fly box, and knelt down to cast to a riser putting up just under a tussock 10 yards or so above him. The fly lit like gossamer, 6 inches above the last ring, floated a moment and went under in the next ring; and next moment the rod was making the curve of beauty. Presently, after an exciting battle, the keeper netted out a beauty of about two and a half pounds.
“Heavens, cried Mr. Castwell. This is something like”…….”I am sure his Holiness will be pleased to hear it, said the keeper.
Mr. Caswell prepared to move upstream to the next riser when he became aware that another trout had taken up the position of that which he had just landed, and was rising.”Just look at that”, he said, dropping instantaneously to his knee and drawing off some line. A moment later and accurate fly fell just above the neb of the fish, and instantly Mr. Castwell engaged in battle with another lusty fish. All went well, and presently the landing net recieved 2 1/2 pounds.
“A very pretty brace,”said Mr. Caswell, preparing to move onto the next of the string of busy nebs which he observed putting up around the bend. As he approached the tussock, however, he became aware that the place from which he had just extracted so satisfactory a brace was already occupied by another busy feeder.
”Well I’m damned!, Cried Mr. Caswell.” Do you see that?”
.” Yes, sir,”said the keeper.
 The chance of extracting three successive trout from the same spot was too attractive to be foregone, and once more Mr. Castwell knelt down and delivered a perfect cast to the spot. Instantly it was accepted in battle was joined. All held, and presently a third gleaming trout join his brethren in the creel.
Mr. Castwell turned joyfully to approach the next riser round the bend. Judge, however,h is surprise to find that once more the pit beneath the tussock was occupied by rising trout, apparently of much the same size as the others.
”Heavens,”explained Mr. Caswell.”Was there ever anything like it?”
“No sir, said the keeper.
 “Look here, he said to the keeper. I think I really must give this chap a miss and pass on to the next.”
” Sorry, it can't be done”said the keeper his Holiness would not like it.
”Well, if that's really so, said Mr. Castwell, and knelt reluctantly to his task.
Several hours later he was still casting to the same tussock.
”How long is this confounding rise going to last? “Inquired Mr. Castwell I suppose it will stop soon?”
“No, sir”said the keeper.
’What, isn't there a slack hour in the afternoon?”
“No afternoon, sir.”
“What? Then what about the evening rise?”
“No evening, sir”said the keeper
.” Well I should knock off, now. I must've had about 30 brace from that corner.”
‘Beg pardon, sir but his Holiness would not like that.”
’ What? said Mr. Castwell. Mayn’t I even stop at night?”
No night here sir, said the keeper.
“Then do you mean that I have got to go on catching these damned 2 1/2 pounders at this corner for ever and ever?
 The keeper nodded.
“Hell!’….said Mr. Castwell.
“Yes,”said the keeper.