78 WHEN WATERS 



wait upon the trout-fisher. His season 

 opens with the unfolding of leaves and 

 lengthening of days, and he turns his 

 back on winter and realises to the full 

 the meaning of that gladsome word 

 Spring. The trout is a prince among 

 fishes. He will not deign to live in 

 waters that are contaminated by the 

 haunts of man. The streams that are 

 born in the rocks of the hill-tops, which 

 wander through moors of peat and 

 heather, are his own, and in the smaller 

 tributaries not even the sewin, much less 

 the salmon, can usurp his birthright or 

 disturb his peace. 



Artist and poet never grow weary 

 of expressing the trout-stream's most 

 subtle charms, and with these the angler 

 renews his acquaintance every year. 

 Season follows season, yet it is the 

 same old river, and he never sighs for 

 change. 



The very "uncertainty" glorious it 



