FLIES. 379 



there is a beaver meadow at the mouth of a brook, sur- 

 rounded by undulating forest land ; there a naked hill- 

 side, dotted over with enormous boulders. 



There is only one drawback to the perfect happiness of 

 the angler on these rivers, and that is the flies. I suppose 

 they are sent to prevent him from being too happy. 

 There are days in the fishing season when the sun is 

 obscured by a sort of haze dull, close, sweltering days 

 when the thin-skinned man (especially if his hair be of a 

 reddish or ginger hue) is unable to endure them. Oint- 

 ments, veils, gloves, tobacco-smoke ! nothing can protect 

 him. He is reduced to a state of temporary idiocy, and 

 unless he wishes that state of misery to be permanent he 

 had better fly to his tent, where, sitting over a smoke of 

 burning cedar-bark, so pungent and stifling that the tears 

 flow from his eyes and blood-stained trickle down his 

 punctured cheeks, he may experience some alleviation of 

 his suffering. Flies cannot stand the full blaze of the 

 sun, neither do they like a breeze of wind, therefore the 

 more open and exposed the situation the better for a 

 fisherman's camp. A veil fastened round the crown of a 

 broad-brimmed hat, tied round the throat with an elastic 

 band, and kept clear of the face by means of crinoline 

 hoops, is a good protection against musquitoes and black 

 flies. Of unguents, several are used, the cleanest being 

 the least effective, the dirtiest the most so. Mixtures of 

 pennyroyal and almond oil, or of oil of tar and turpen- 

 tine in equal parts, are of some use, especially the latter ; 

 but if the angler wishes to be completely fly-proof, re- 

 gardless of expense, he must go in for a villainous ointment 

 made of equal parts of tar and pork fat. 



