54 Rambles with a Fisliing-Rod. 



no hurry to run away again, and therefore, 

 comfort is of more moment than it is in 

 some other kind of pleasure. Once in a way 

 one may not object to pass a night in the hay 

 in a mountain chalet on the Alps : a week of such 

 a bed would be intolerable. Still, the Half- 

 way House, a lonely cabin in the mountains, 

 the most annoying characteristic of which 

 was the beggars, old and young, who persecuted 

 one as soon as the door was opened, and who 

 seemed to spring out of the ground is a place 

 one leaves with a certain regret ; and that re- 

 gret is especially felt when one sees the lake 

 rippling under the influence of a fresh morning 

 breeze, and one recognises each point and bay, 

 one may almost say each rock and stone, 

 where a good fish has been taken, or a fine 

 white trout has been raised. 



Let me say another word about flies. No 

 large variety is required for these lakes. But 

 any one who wants good flies and advice has 

 only to go to Mr Flint, the fishing-tackle 

 maker in Essex Quay, Dublin, who will 

 supply him with all necessary flies. He is 

 in the habit of fishing in these lakes himself, 

 and therefore is a better person to go to than 



