70 FLY FISHING. 



And now we will suppose ourselves by the river side atten- 

 tively watching the manauvres of two anglers, both duly rigged 

 out, and with an air of evident malice prepense towards the whole 

 finny race. One is apparently but a tyro ; the other undoubtedly 

 a cunning adept in the mysteries of angling. The day is upon 

 the whole a favorable one for their purpose : the sky slightly over- 

 cast, though sometimes the sun peeps out, but soon again to be 

 obscured by a passing cloud : a brisk breeze ruffles the more open 

 waters, whilst every now and then a fresh gust flits over the more 

 sheltered deeps, for a short interval casting a dull ripple over their 

 glassy surface, but as transiently it passes away, and they again 

 become calm and tranquil as the face of a polished mirror. We 

 will also suppose the river, on whose banks our fishermen are 

 standing, contains a fair supply of lusty trouts ; one of whom we 

 may even now detect in the act of poking his greedy nose above 

 the water to devour a little ill-fated ephemeral fly that was floating 

 gladly down the stream, having but a moment or two before cast 

 off its grub-like slough, emerging full of grace and beauty into its 

 new and perfect state of existence, a*nd preparing to wing its flight 

 to join in the joyful gambols of its fellows in the air, no more 

 anticipating its untimely doom, than is its fell destroyer, that a 

 lure as like it as the skill of man can put together, beneath whose 

 attractive form there lies the fatal hook, is at this very moment 

 held in the bend of the left hand, between the finger and thumb of 

 the tyro who we will call the scholar and is pursuant to the 

 directions of the cunning adept whom we will distinguish as the 

 old angler to be cast most temptingly before his (Mr. Trout's) eyes 

 as soon as that dark cloud shall have obscured the glaring rays 

 of the sun, and the fleeting breeze that already agitates the adja- 

 cent foliage shall have crisped the water sufficiently to hide the 

 fall of the line by which he is designed to be secured. " Now's 

 your time 1" exclaims the old angler. The deceitful lure drops on 

 the rippling waters. " What a splash you do make, but I will have 

 you for all that,' 1 says the trout to himself as he closes his jaws 

 upon his supposed prize, when he discovers its utter worthlessness, 

 and at the very self- same instant feeh the sharp prick of the hook 

 as it is driven beyond the barb into his flesh, and becomes firmly 

 fixed in his tongue. In vain does he attempt to eject the deceitful 

 morsel from his mouth, or to free himself from the line to which 

 it is attached. In very fury he tears and plunges, hopelessly 



