MINNOW AND WORM 155 



In waters where the trout know quite well that the 

 arrival of a worm on a hook means that they are 

 being fished for they will often niggle with it as 

 daintily as a roach with a piece of paste, but now-a- 

 days such waters are growing less numerous, as the 

 worm-fishing fraternity either dies out or becomes 

 converted to the fly. So the danger of a trout's 

 swallowing everything at a gulp is generally con- 

 siderable, and that is why the worm does not appeal 

 to me except in special circumstances. It makes 

 fishing altogether too crude a business, and shows 

 a noble fish up in such a bad light as the worst kind 

 of glutton. It is preferable to ignore this side of 

 his character, and when possible to appeal with fur 

 and feather to that better self which he also 

 undoubtedly possesses. 



But as I have said, there are special circumstances. 

 There is the little overgrown brook which you 

 cannot fish with a fly. Its case I have considered 

 earlier. Then there is the pea-soup flood on the 

 mountain river. This is a kind of fishing which 

 every one unites to condemn in the loudest tones. 

 I condemn it too at the top of my voice. And yet, 

 and yet — ^there is a kind of fascination about the 

 thrill that comes up the line when you have let 

 down your worm into the yellow eddy or slack to 

 find a trout ready for it at once. Very occasionally 

 I must confess to enjoying an hour with the worm in 



