THE COMMON BROWN TROUT. 259 



waters of some Scottish loch OP fairy streamlet. What can be more 

 delightful, on some " incense breathing morn,' ' than to climb the summit of 

 the hill, and gaze on the thread of silver below, 'mid verdurous fields 

 and foliage of varied hues, towards which you intend wending your way, 

 rod in hand ; or by the Colne or Wandle to stroll, taking in with each 

 step deep draughts of beauty the tints of May, the songs of her glad- 

 throated birds, the glorious vagueness of the blue cloud-pillared vault 

 above what can be more delightful ? Verily, as Sir Henry Wotton hath 

 said, angling such as this is "a cheerer of the spirits, a tranquiliser of 

 the mind, a calmer of unquiet thoughts, a diverter of sadness" into 

 paths of pleasantness and peace unknown of the moles of the great 

 cities, who, like Hood's songstress, know little of the " breath of the 

 primrose and cowslip sweet, the sky above my head, and the grass 

 beneath my feet," but yet are content to remain in ignorance. In 

 conclusion I may perhaps be allowed to call in the aid of the poet Gay 

 for the enforcement of what I have primarily endeavoured to teach in 

 the foregoing pages : 



Think well the various seasons of the year, 

 How the succeeding insects rare appear. 

 In the revolving moon one colour reigns, 

 Which, in the next, the fickle trout disdains. 

 Oft have I seen the skilful angler try 

 The various colours of the treacherous fly. 

 When he with fruitless pain hath skimmed the brook, 

 And the coy fish respects the skipping hook, 

 He shakes the boughs that on the margin grow, 

 Which o'er the stream a wavy forest throw ! 

 When, if an insect falls a certain guide- 

 He gently takes him from the whirling tide, 

 Examines well his form with curious eyes, 

 His gaudy vest, his wings, his loins, his thighs; 

 Then round his hook the chosen fur he winds, 

 And on the back a speckled feather binds. 

 So just the colours shine through every part, 

 That Nature seems to live again in art. 



I have now arrived at that part of my subject which may be compre- 

 hended under the title real bait fishing, and, therefore, the use of the real 

 ily next demands my attention. 



There are several ways of using the real fly, and each is very killing. 

 The first, and, perhaps, most favourite, when a favourable wind is 

 blowing, is the blow-line, with either the real May fly, palmer, or blue- 

 bottle. This style has been explained in the article on Dace, so I shall 

 not again repeat it, but content myself with simply reminding the tyro 

 that the tackle consists of a long somewhat stiffish rod, a very light silk 

 line, a fine length of gut, to which is attached a single hook on which 

 the fly is impaled. Another and more elaborate style, is one almost 



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