A DAY ON CLYDE 233 



we imagined of mighty depth is still a pool, 

 no doubt, but clearly to the bottom we see 

 and find its mystery has vanished ; a broad 

 flat, which has yielded freely of its store and 

 made us happy in our work, is now a thin 

 shallow in which not a single trout appears to 

 dwell. 



A feeling of despair and hopelessness strives to 

 lay its grip upon us, but we are resolved not to 

 be overwhelmed with disappointment until we 

 have put fortune to the test. Though the sun 

 is brilliant and large cloud-masses intensely white 

 float slowly across the sky, the wind is gentle from 

 the east, endeavouring to give a little coolness, 

 and at times, as it puts forth a greater effort, not 

 altogether failing. 



Some there are who love not the east wind, 

 but we find it friendly on many rivers, or rather 

 we believe that it is kindly, and that is an equiva- 

 lent. It opposes the puny current, a stroke of 

 luck to place against the many unfavourable con- 

 ditions, a happy circumstance which dispels some 

 despair and hastens on the preparations for the 

 day. While the tails of the pools may be un- 

 affected, the streams are appreciably longer and 

 more ruffled, which means more water to fish, 

 shorter distances to walk and, we hope, more 

 sport to enjoy. If that wind were absent, we 

 might acknowledge defeat without a trial, but 

 its presence makes probable the impossible. 



Before us lies a long, still pool, on our side a 

 broad belt of gravel fringed and sullied with the 

 foul green weed, the invariable accompaniment 

 of drought, while opposite is a high, rush-tufted 



