318 PKAIKIE AND FOREST. 



now, I can scarcely revert to the subject without feeling 

 inclined to scratch myself. 



Revenons a nos moutons. With salmon fishing the 

 imaginary moment of victory is frequently the pre- 

 cursor of defeat ; the noble adversary but relaxes his 

 efforts that, in the resulting confidence which follows, 

 he may the more successfully concentrate his powers 

 for a final dash, and frequently succeeds in escaping. 

 I can compare it to nought else than the skilful 

 swordsman who, finding himself overmatched in his 

 antagonist, gives ground and feigns fatigue to imbue 

 his foe with confidence, hoping that a careless pass 

 will still afford him an opportunity to deliver the 

 deadly thrust. Men have always foibles, always para- 

 mount pleasures ; their tastes are as diversified as the 

 colouring in Joseph's coat, as the physiognomy which 

 we bear. While one is devoted to the horse, another 

 is to the hound ; while one loves the gun, another 

 loves the rod. To question their tastes and argue 

 with them the reason would probably be unproductive ; 

 but of this I am convinced no man ever felt the 

 pleasure, the intense excitement, of having a salmon 

 on a rod, or even the more diminutive trout, with- 

 out being again desirous of renewing the sensation. 

 The very uncertainty causes this fascination. A 

 gentleman for whom I have much esteem, and who 

 has been busily employed all his life in mercantile 

 pursuits, principally abroad and in countries where 

 fly fishing was not practicable, a few years ago met 

 me on a fishing excursion. His essays with the fly, 

 from lack of experience, were not generally success- 

 ful ; but when I hooked a heavy fish and handed him 

 the rod to play the deluded victim, his countenance, 



