44 My Two Days' Salmon Fishing, 



them, and not run the risk of mixing with those whose 

 lives have been embittered, and affections estranged from 

 Enghsh sportsmen by wicked and designing men. As I meet 

 some of these agitating scoundrels, most of whom I know by 

 sight, day by day in London, I feel as if I was meeting the 

 father of mischief himself, and look down expecting to see 

 the cloven hoof. I like to remember the old-fashioned 

 greeting, " You're welcome, anyhow," and a rough answer 

 from an Irish peasant noio would grate terribly on my ear. 

 The drawback to Irish tackle is that their gut is not so fine 

 or pliable as ours, and I rejoiced Phil Morris's heart by 

 giving him two or three of Holroyd's finest-drawn gut 

 collars, and a few of the '' Strange's fancy " Wandle flies, 

 which I have found " death on trout " in mountain streams 

 in Ireland and Scotland. 



Note.— My fishing was in Galv\'ay river, just below the weir at 

 Lough Corrib. My fisherman was young George Brown, but I did 

 not put his name at the time, as there were two George Browns, 

 senior and junior, and near relatives ; and there was much jealousy 

 between them, the friends of one declaring that the other was of no 

 use. My John Brown was the best fisherman I ever saw. The 

 salmon, crede the late Frank Buckland, swarm in Galway river. 



