f a I D f I i I 



ERHAPS there is no sport which prevails over so wide a 

 ^ range as that of trout fishing. Eirst, there is the system 

 of trolling for the great-lakers in Scotland, or elsewhere ; 

 then there is spinning for the magnificent Thames trout, 

 often fully as large as his great-laker cousin. The first 

 is rather a monotonous proceeding if sport is slow. You 

 sit in a boat, with a couple of rods over the stern, waiting 

 for a run, with the lines trailing away with a real or 

 artificial bait full fifty yards behind you ; you row along at the rate 

 of about two miles an hour, for the slower you go, provided you can 

 keep the baits spinning, the better. Mile after mile you row on past 

 low sandy spit, high rock, or rounded wooded promontory, one after 

 the other. The invariable hill changes from a cone at one end of the 

 lake to a tent roof in the middle, and to a cone again as you reach the 

 other end ; and yet no tug at the rod top. You read, you smoke, you have 

 long ago exhausted the taciturn Sandy's stock of conversation ; you yawn, 

 you nod, you are half asleep, when suddenly there comes a great bang 

 9.t one of the rods. Then a screech of the reel as you dash at it and 



