244 THE TROUT ARE RISING 



'Berg way in any numbers. Yet there they 

 were. It was a half-pounder only, but as he 

 entered the landing net, he seemed enough and 

 pretty enough to revive (t the magical rites of 

 reminiscence." He was taken on a fly called the 

 " butcher " unromantic name, simply suggestive 

 of slaying. Why could it not have been called 

 somebody or other's Fancy ? Killing fly as it is, 

 it does not always score. Mr. David Smythe, a 

 son of a former Premier of Natal, told me he 

 was out the previous afternoon with two flies on 

 his cast, the butcher and the woodcock-wing-and- 

 hare's-ear. The fly which did all the business 

 was the woodcock-and-hare's-ear ; the butcher 

 had no orders at all from the trout. That after- 

 noon Mr. Smythe landed seven trout, weighing 

 thirteen pounds. A fine basket they must have 

 been, judging by the brace I saw, after the other 

 five fish had been distributed among neighbours. 

 They were caught in a reach which lies, roughly 

 speaking, between Kamberg and Rosetta. 



1 only paid a brief visit to the river in the 

 morning when the butcher had claimed my first 

 trout, and did not fish again until sundown, when 

 No. 2 came to the net, a fitting mate for the 

 other. Colour was lent to its capture because it 

 was foul-hooked on the head-side of the dorsal 

 fin. It played very gamely, as all trout thus 

 oddly hooked do. Higher up, but still below 

 the picturesque Falls, trout occur in plenty, but 

 it is a case of (to venture on parody) : 



" With here and there a lusty trout, 

 And hero and there a scaly.' 1 



