1 82 THE TROUT ARE RISING 



some look, the clear complexion, the bright eyes 

 of a little girl revelling in the open air, catching 

 her first trout. 



It is a picture I prefer to that of the girl who 

 was lunching with two other ladies at a table near 

 mine in a London restaurant. Between two 

 courses she produced a bag, from which she sud- 

 denly extracted a small looking-glass. The result 

 of careful inspection was the adjustment of a few 

 wisps of hair. Afterwards out of the bag came a 

 powder puff, which was duly and artistically 

 employed. 1 rather enjoyed the observation of 

 one of the other ladies who had been watching all 

 this. " I say, Gertie, haven't you brought your 

 tooth-brush ? " 



Another instance of fisherwoman's luck occurs 

 to me. It was on the Mooi river in Natal. The 

 family came down to the river where I was fish- 

 ing, and my host and his two daughters threw a 

 fly for the first time. Fishing had not much 

 appealed to them, although they delighted to see 

 their guests having sport and being happy. But 

 this time they had a try. Before long my host 

 got a small trout, and then came an excited call, 

 l< Oh ! I've got one ! " from one of the daughters. 

 With a light fly-rod and a Hardy's favourite the 

 fair angler had hooked what was obviously a good 

 trout. She made an appeal for the rod to be 

 taken over, but this was firmly vetoed. It is a 

 sound principle for each angler to catch his or her 

 own first fish, unless, as in the case mentioned 

 before, it is making for tree-roots, when a little 



