FISHING IN RIVER, STREAM, AND LOCH 167 



against hope, whipping the water indefatigably as ever ; 

 and even after the conviction of their loss became 

 irresistible, the tradition of that trout continued to 

 draw through a couple of seasons while it was gradually 

 fading. 



That was of course an extreme case, so far as the 

 odds against the fisherman were concerned. We may 

 picture him rather on a soft May day, when he is 

 turned loose upon the private fishing in one of the 

 beautiful English parks. The day is cloudy, and there 

 is a gentle westerly breeze ; and all nature is rejoicing 

 after some recent showers. Our friend is early afoot ; 

 and the dews and the light rain-drops lie thick upon 

 grass and bracken. He steers straight for the stream 

 by a side path under the trees, the fallow deer scarcely 

 taking the trouble to trot out of his way. The rooks 

 are clamouring and circling round the elms overhead, 

 and jackdaws and starlings are almost as vociferous, as 

 they flutter in and out of the holes in the hawthorn 

 boles. The rabbits, scared from the finish of the 

 morning meal, go scuttling into their burrows in the 

 banks, and thrushes, blackbirds, and finches, when they 

 are not singing, are busied over nest-building and 

 domestic duties. In the balmy fragrance of a morn- 

 ing like that, the mere sense of life and movement is 

 enjoyable ; but though the angler may be a lover of 

 nature in proper time and place, now his gratitude for 

 the pleasures she bestows upon him is unconscious. 

 His eyes and his thoughts are fixed on those clumps of 

 alder that mark the course of the winding stream. He 



