122 t BEGINNING TO DESPAIR. [PART I. 



killing " clegs " (horse-flies), the number of which 

 was only equalled by their determination and 

 ferocity, and getting in my fish, my hands were 

 pretty well occupied. 



We had been thus engaged for the best part 

 of four days, leading pleasant lives enough, though 

 the weather was somewhat unfavourable, but on 

 the whole beginning to despair of getting hold of 

 one of the big fellows. On the afternoon of the 

 fourth day we halted in a wooded bay on the West 

 shore of Loch Garry, a delightfully pretty and shel- 

 tered spot, where, whilst we lounged away the hour 

 we did not then so much grudge for luncheon, 

 John Cameron practically explained the mysteries 

 of ember-cooking fish, which I have before men- 

 tioned, a couple of Trout of about a pound each 

 serving as subjects for the lecture. Luncheon 

 over, before yielding myself to that pipe of pipes 

 which succeeds such a repast, perhaps the highest 

 state of pure physical enjoyment of which man is 

 susceptible, I took stock of my remaining spinning 

 tackle. I then found it had suffered so much from 

 the nibbling of the small Trout, that the flight of 

 hooks I had up was the only one of the proper 

 size left, and, to make matters worse, the single 

 gut attached to this was frayed half in two 



