On the Old Stream with Old Hugh 
length, within a hundred ‘yards of 
wather, and that before 2 o’clock.”’ 
His Scotch was up both in manner 
and speech, and I made an effort to 
oppose him. I told him that he was to 
take half a dozen for the old woman on 
a fly of his own make, and I went on 
to say that when he was convalescing 
from the effects of a big drunk that he 
had partaken of last fall, brought about 
through taking a gang of fellows over 
our best waters on the river, and on 
one of my visits to him at this time I 
saw a great number of robins were 
feeding on the berries of a mountain 
ash tree in his garden, and I suggested 
that he should shoot some of them for 
a pie for himself, and that he should 
save the tails forme. I went on tell- 
ing him that the feathers were stripped 
from the quills, which were dyed in 
Halford’s red spinner dye, which form 
the bodies, and that I had made a num- 
ber of red spinners, with one of which 
he should make the catch from. But 
in regard to the fly that took thirty- 
four ona Friday, on the 7th day of June, 
it was the old reliable garden hackle. 
The fishing was up stream, around 
stones and by the sides of banks. 
Creepers were there and so I guess 
were all the trout in the stream. By 
pitching a small worm by the side of a 
stone, allowing it to remain for asecond 
or two only, fishing across stream to 
another stone or into a little run, and 
then giving it a twitch down stream, a 
trout would be taken with one or the 
other at almost every cast, and it 
seemed as if there was a creeper under 
every stone and a trout by its side. 
The sizes of the fish ran to about nine 
inches, but in order to even them up 
nicely three or four times as many were 
returned to the water. It was a red 
109 
hot day with a blazing sun, a day for 
successful worm fishing, and one not 
suited to the fly. The catch was made 
by spinning the worm as taught me by 
a conceited old angler more than thirty- 
years ago. Then the old man with his 
left arm extended to its full length 
above his head, triumphantly shouted: 
‘It was by following my instructions 
that enabled you to make the catch.”’ 
After this mixture of censure and 
praise, the old man got down from his 
wrath, and he went over many of our 
successful days, and recalled the fact 
that he found red palmers, and flies 
with orange or yellow silk bodies with 
partridge hackles as successful on rapids, 
whilst duns and spinners were as good 
on smooth stretches as they were when 
he left the hills of Scotland sixty years 
ago. At 4:30 p. M. Fred went for the 
team, Hugh to try the red spinner, and 
I to see one of the farmers about the 
stream. On my return, Hugh had 
made his catch, although he complained 
that he had become too slow for the 
race-horse like rushes of trout after red 
spinners, as he could not secure more 
than one in three rises. In due time he 
was dropped at his door, and after an- 
other mile’s drive I at mine, sometime 
before sundown. The fish were put 
into cold waters, wiped dry with a 
coarse napkin, placed upon dishes and 
deposited in the refrigerator, and in the 
course of an hour were found to have 
become cold and firm. By 9:30 p. M. 
the greater portion was distributed 
amongst some of my friends who were 
‘‘chained to business.”’ 
On: Saturday I was around doing my 
work without any effort, and at mid- 
day old Hugh showed up, inquiring if 
the 7th of June next year would come 
on Friday. 
