i8o THE SALMON 



the wind ; but I just manage, by a quick movement 

 of the wrist, to save myself from catching the bush, 

 and the next time the ' Blue Doctor ' goes straight and 

 true, as I intended, and falls fairly lightly — not that 

 that signifies much — almost to an inch on the spot I 

 aimed at. How carefully I bring the point of the rod 

 round, how cautiously I work it, how eagerly I watch 

 the spot where the fly circles across and down the 

 stream ! The fish does not come this time, nor the 

 next, nor at all ; but I have had the pleasure of my 

 successful casts. I have overcome difficulties, small 

 ones it is true, but real for all that ; I have hoped 

 with good reason, and exercised memory and judg- 

 ment. Then I wander down the stream to the next 

 cast, noting, as I pass the shallow water, any pools 

 which seem in process of formation — for the course of 

 the river is by no means stereotyped — and trying a 

 cast or two where it looks as if there was a possible 

 chance. At each regular pool my hopes revive, as I 

 cannot believe that the salmon will display the dis- 

 graceful apathy which has marked their conduct 

 hitherto. Here a rock, there a bush, reminds me of 

 former successes and inspires me with renewed excite- 

 ment. At last, as I still fail to stir a fish, I try to 

 find a reason for their sluggishness. Sky and water 

 have seemed all that I could desire when I came out ; 



