80 CHATS ON ANGLING. 



need it for our protection. Our drive, if my memory serves me right, 

 was over fifty miles in length, and was satisfactorily accomplished without 

 any startling incident or need for the display of our lethal weapons. 

 We were not sorry when it was over, and we were able to get off our 

 cars and see what comforts the hotel could provide. 



The local peasantry, of course, were not inimical to us as individuals, 

 but were determined to score off our landlord, and to destroy or diminish 

 his profits from the fishing. We had, therefore, to house and care for 

 our gillies as well, in order to save them from maltreatment. Fortunately 

 the river, though on the low side, was in fair order, and the pools were 

 crammed full of fish — too full, indeed, for sport ; and though we did 

 not exactly equal the totals credited to our predecessor, still, we could 

 not complain of the results. The fish, bright and clean, were not heavy 

 — averaging not more than iolb. to 1 1 lb. — but they fought well. Neither 

 were they by any means perfect in shape, being long and narrow, 

 altogether less good-looking than their cousins of the Crolly, who use 

 the same embouchure. These latter are perfect in contour and shape, 

 more like Awe or Avon fish. 



Sport throughout our fortnight's stay was distinctly good, though 

 not remarkable, but the visit gave rise to some, to me, interesting 

 experiences. Thus, in one pool, called the Pulpit pool, the usual cast 

 is from the top of some very high rocks, as the name implies, into 

 the cauldron below. The fish lie near the rocks on the pulpit side ; 

 from there the fly would never hang or fish properly ; do what you 

 would, it resembled a bunch of dead feathers. On the other hand, 

 there was a convenient run on that side, down which a fish could be 

 taken into the pool below ; and, as the fish hooked there always would 

 insist on going down, this point was one of some importance. On 

 the opposite side of the pool there was a charming shelving beach, 

 or bank, and if you could find a fly so well tempered as to stand 

 being thrown against the rocks opposite to you, you were almost certain 

 of a rise, as your fly then played admirably over the taking part of 

 the pool. The problem was then how your fish could be played when 

 hooked, for between vou and the before-mentioned run was a line of 

 serrated rocks, and a fish hooked that meant going down would inevitably 

 cut you. He must, therefore, not be allowed to go down. Luckily, 



