28 DAYS IN DOVE DALE 



I started about three o'clock, well covered 

 as to my back with my new mackintosh; but 

 my poor feet and legs were badly off, and were 

 soon in a sloppy, floppy state ; but what cared 

 I? I began down at the bridge, and worked 

 up stream, casting three flies. I had a notion, 

 derived, I believe, from such an experienced 

 Mentor as yourself, that it was the proper thing 

 to do. 



Fish, you know, generally lie with their 

 heads up stream ; so if you throw a good way 

 up and let your flies float gently down, they 

 naturally fall into the open-mouthed trout. 

 Well, I tried that plan all yesterday afternoon ; 

 this time I did not hurry along. I followed 

 the great master's advice. Unlike Peveril of 

 the Peak, I took heed to old Izaak Walton's 

 recommendation to " fish the streams inch by 

 inch " ; but, nevertheless, I gave preference to 

 the spots "where the stream broke sparkling 

 over a stone, or where, gliding away from a 

 rippling current to a still eddy, it streamed 

 under the projecting bank, or dashed from the 

 pool of some low cascade." 



Ah ! those "low cascades" there are scores 

 of them in the three miles winding of "The 



