312 THE PRACTICAL FISHERMAN. 



natural retirement flows a brook which in the sunshine is a stream 

 of silver. Swift without turbulence, "strong without rage, without 

 o'erflowing full," its pellucid waters give indication even from afar of 

 many a " lusty " trout and many a grayling. As I approach and set 

 foot on the rustic bridge formed of unhewn oak and based on beech roots 

 which seem to clutch the ground with muscular, talon-like fingers, a 

 trout starts from the shadow, and with lightning celerity and silence a 

 swift umber or grayling speeds into the darkness of a contiguous deep. 

 In the distance another takes a fly with happy complacency, and as the 

 gentle eddy closes over him yet another follows suit with obtrusive 

 demonstrations, and that sonorous roll which is even more characteristic 

 of a trout's plunge than that of a grayling. Truly there are here indica- 

 tions of a sufficiently assuring nature to warrant " great expectations." 



It is now six o'clock, and the whippy three-joint rod is put together, 

 the line duly passed through the rings, and the casting lines made from 

 the "grey palfrey's tail" attached. I lightly whip it into the stream 

 to soak as I proceed to load and light the greatest luxury of the world the 

 first pipe. Just three mighty draws at its fragrant contents and one 

 modest sip from the tiny flask, and the cast is soaked enough to give 

 it elasticity, and so are the hair mounted flies of almost miscroscopical 

 size previously placed in the water in the gentle-box, amongst the gentles 

 too but never mind, the latter stand a lot of drowning. The flies are 

 securely tied, and with care I prepare to get out the line for the first 

 cast. 



Ah ! the first cast ! a chapter might be written on it, for I have a 

 superstition that a great deal depends on the success of getting out the 

 line for and the making of that first essay. I don't mean the first 

 11 cast " of one's angling experience, though I remember mine was on the 

 root of a curious and impertinent cow's tail with a bran new flight of jack 

 hooks, which of course failed to "land" the bovine quarry. No; I 

 mean the first of the day, which strikes the key note of one's temper and 

 patience for the rest of it. However, I get the first cast properly out 

 and without hitch or stay, fish on. My flies are simply imitation house 

 flies, tipped with a small white gentle, by which I try to satisfy the, as I 

 think, despicable whim of mine host, who has invited me to a week's 

 grayling fishing. The stream as I walk down grows wider, and I see 

 not so far from me the white shingles of a trout spawning bed. Behind 

 that spot there is probably a deep wherein I prophesy are a grayling or two 

 not disdainful of any stray ova that the stream may kindly wash to 

 them from their busy cousins above. 



Eeceding now from the water I gradually approach the pool aforesaid, 

 and light as a mother's kiss on her baby's face, or softly as falls on the 



