THE DUFFER'S FORTNIGHT 211 



as though the fish were about to feed in earnest. 

 Two admirable trout, indeed, turned themselves 

 miraculously into chub in the brief space that 

 ensued between hooking and landing, while several 

 plump dace made mess of several dainty flies which 

 had been dressed for their betters. Then in the 

 distance arose a dark mysterious cloud, which 

 muttered ominously as it approached. 



Having been caught in that way before, and 

 having recently read warnings as to the " conduct- 

 ing " properties of fly-rods, I retreated without loss 

 of time, and presently, safe under cover, was, 

 watching a storm of malevolent vehemence, which 

 threatened to stop Mayfly fishing for the day. It 

 not only threatened, but performed, and by 6 p.m. 

 the river was running pea-soup in appalling 

 quantities. 



On Sunday it continued thick, only beginning 

 to fine down towards evening; and on Monday, 

 though the river was fairly clear, the wind arose in 

 its might to rob angling of any small chance it 

 might have had. Some small hatch of fly about 

 2 p.m. there undoubtedly was, but the wind and 

 cold prevented any rise from anything that looked 

 even remotely like a trout, and the fly ceased 

 abruptly in about an hour. 



Dispirited and shivering but inspired with the 

 doggedness of ill temper, I hung about the river 



