IN THE WEST COUNTRY 41 



up, and us do cut 'un back but her never / 

 blooms ! " Strangers met and the process of 

 improving acquaintance was almost immediate. 

 No subdued whisperings took place at meal times 

 there ; no ecclesiastical solemnity brooded over 

 the tables, as at one first-class, precisely-ordered 

 hotel (the name of which neither wild horses nor 

 tame shall drag from me), where the conversation 

 seemed to be based on the theme, " I've come to 

 tell you there is no hope of a reprieve." 



Jolly days were those at that little Devonshire 

 hotel. At first the trout you pick up with the 

 fly in those western parts, fairly easily if the 

 water is in order, seem very small ; in truth they 

 are small. Four or five to the pound is a good 

 average. But you note their capacity for fight, 

 their first-rate condition, even in April. Gradually, 

 the noting turns to appreciation. There is no 

 sluggish, somnolent water in the rivers hereabouts, 

 on the Cornish border. Hard by is Dartmoor, 

 and the Dartmoor-born rivers carry their early 

 turbulence throughout the greater part of their 

 careers. So, of course, the trout fight like 

 demons. 



One of the most successful of the anglers 



o 



took pains to catch a natural fly and got some 

 artificial flies tied to resemble it. The result was 

 a variation of the blue upright and it proved very 

 killing. Other flies which 1 found useful on the 

 Cornish border were March brown, Maxwell's 

 blue, Maxwell's red, blue upright, pheasant's 

 tail, Wickham's fancy, and coachman for evening. 



