160 FISHING IN RIVER, STREAM, AND LOCH 



Had your spirits been less exuberant, they might have 

 been dashed by the news that welcomed you to your 

 lonely lodge in the wilderness. The river was running 

 low after a portentous period of drought. Some of the 

 surest pools were scarcely worth the trouble of casting 

 over ; and through the limpid waters of the soft- 

 murmuring stream you could almost " prospect " the 

 gravelly bottom for yourself, and see that the favourite 

 " seats " of the fish were untenanted. The best rods 

 had done little or nothing for a fortnight or more ; 

 even your opposite neighbour The M'Closkey, re- 

 nowned far and wide among the heroes of the angle, 

 had renounced his efforts in despair, and gone in for 

 solitary drinking. But after all, nothing venture, 

 nothing have : you had not travelled so far northwards 

 for nothing, and the mere sight of the familiar water 

 sufficed to set your fancy on the alert. Whether your 

 skill and perseverance be rewarded or no, it is pleasure 

 breathing the fresh air from the hills, and feeling your 

 muscles extend themselves to the play of the rod, as 

 you stretch your shoulders in the loose-sitting shooting- 

 coat. Whatever the condition of the water, the day is 

 all that can be desired : in the meantime there is a 

 canopy of dull, grey clouds, though there may be a 

 threatening of sunshine to disperse them later ; and the 

 breathings of the south-west wind have brought a light 

 ripple over the pools. Sticking chiefly to the stiller 

 but deeper water, you make your casts with a con- 

 scientiousness that does you credit. Persistence, and a 

 patient faith in the rise that may come to you at any 



