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at i went fishing there； how many times did i really go； i wonder？ not more than a dozen。 it was a three…mile bike ride from home and took up a whole afternoon at least。 and sometimes other things turned up； and sometimes when i’d meant to go it rained。 you know the way things happen。
one afternoon the fish weren’t biting and i began to explore at the end of the pool farthest from binfield house。 there was a bit of an overflow of water and the ground was boggy； and you had to fight your way through a sort of jungle of blackberry bushes and rotten boughs that had fallen off the trees。 i struggled through it for about fifty yards； and then suddenly there was a clearing and i came to another pool which i had never known existed。 it was a small pool not more than twenty yards wide； and rather dark because of the boughs that overhung it。 but it was very clear water and immensely deep。 i could see ten or fifteen feet down into it。 i hung about for a bit； enjoying the dampness and the rotten boggy smell； the way a boy does。 and then i saw something that almost made me jump out of my skin。
it was an enormous fish。 i don’t exaggerate when i say it was enormous。 it was almost the length of my arm。 it glided across the pool； deep under water； and then became a shadow and disappeared into the darker water on the other side。 i felt as if a sword had gone through me。 it was far the biggest fish i’d ever seen； dead or alive。 i stood there without breathing； and in a moment another huge thick shape glided through the water； and then another and then two more close together。 the pool was full of them。 they were carp； i suppose。 just possibly they were bream or tench； but more probably carp。 bream or tench wouldn’t grow so huge。 i knew what had happened。 at some time this pool had been connected with the other； and then the stream had dried up and the woods had closed round the small pool and it had just been forgotten。 it’s a thing that happens occasionally。 a pool gets forgotten somehow； nobody fishes in it for years and decades and the fish grow to monstrous sizes。 the brutes that i was watching might be a hundred years old。 and not a soul in the world knew about them except me。 very likely it was twenty years since anyone had so much as looked at the pool； and probably even old hodges and mr farrel’s bailiff had forgotten its existence。
well； you can imagine what i felt。 after a bit i couldn’t even bear the tantalization of watching。 i hurried back to the other pool and got my fishing things together。 it was no use trying for those colossal brutes with the tackle i had。 they’d snap it as if it had been a hair。 and i couldn’t go on fishing any longer for the tiny bream。 the sight of the big carp had given me a feeling in my stomach almost as if i was going to be sick。 i got on to my bike and whizzed down the hill and home。 it was a wonderful secret for a boy to have。 there was the dark pool hidden away in the woods and the monstrous fish sailing round it—fish that had never been fished for and would grab the first bait you offered them。 it was only a question of getting hold of a line strong enough to hold them。 already i’d made all the arrangements。 i’d buy the tackle that would hold them if i had to steal the money out of the till。 somehow； god knew how； i’d get hold of half a crown and buy a length of silk salmon line and some thick gut or gimp and number 5 hooks； and e back with cheese and gentles and paste and mealworms and brandlings and grasshoppers and every mortal bait a carp might look at。 the very next saturday afternoon i’d e back and try for them。
but as it happened i never went back。 one never does go back。 i never stole the money out of the till or bought the bit of salmon line or had a try for those carp。 almost immediately afterwards something turned up to prevent me； but if it hadn’t been that it would have been something else。 it’s the way things happen。
i know； of course； that you think i’m exaggerating about the size of those fish。 you think； probably； that they were just medium… sized fish （a foot long； say） and that they’ve swollen gradually in my memory。 but it isn’t so。 people tell lies about the fish they’ve caught and still more about the fish that are hooked and get away； but i never caught any of these or even tried to catch them； and i’ve no motive for lying。 i tell you they were enormous。
。。
PART Ⅱ…6
and besides fishing there was reading。
i’ve exaggerated if i’ve given the impression that fishing was the only thing i cared about。 fishing certainly came first； but reading was a good second。 i must have been either ten or eleven when i started reading—reading voluntarily； i mean。 at that age it’s like discovering a new world。 i’m a considerable reader even now； in fact there aren’t many weeks in which i don’t get through a couple of novels。 i’m what you might call the typical boots library subscriber； i always fall for the best…seller of the moment （the good panions； bengal lancer； hatter’s castle—i fell for every one of them）； and i’ve been a member of the left book club for a year or more。 and in 1918； when i was twenty…five； i had a sort of debauch of reading that made a certain difference to my outlook。 but nothing is ever like those first years when you suddenly discover that you can open a penny weekly paper and plunge straight into thieves’ kitchens and chinese opium dens and polynesian islands and the forests of brazil。
it was from when i was eleven to when i was about sixteen that i got my biggest kick out of reading。 at first it was always the boys’ penny weeklies—little thin papers with vile print and an illustration in three colours on the cover—and a bit later it was books。 sherlock holmes； dr nikola； the iron pirate； dracula； raffles。 and nat gould and ranger gull and a chap whose name i forget who wrote boxing stories almost as rapidly as nat gould wrote racing ones。 i suppose if my parents had been a little better educated i’d have had ‘good’ books shoved down my throat； dickens and thackeray and so forth； and in fact they did drive us through quentin durward at school and uncle ezekiel sometimes tried to incite me to r