290 DRY-FLY FISHING 



just failing to reach a pound, but well worthy of 

 the long-sustained effort under conditions so diffi- 

 cult. 



This late rise is of the shortest duration, 

 only a few minutes altogether, and the bow-rod 

 unfortunately does not get a single opportunity of 

 aiming at a mark within his allotted area. So luck 

 swings round in fishing as in other things. 



Now it is as dark as a June night of unclouded 

 sky can be ; the air is quite chilly, seeming to promise 

 a touch of frost on the uplands, but no mist is 

 wafted over the waters, which remain silent and 

 undisturbed. The keeper, even more anxious than 

 we are ourselves, spares himself no pains, rowing 

 us up to the very choicest corners where good fish 

 are wont to feed, and encourages us by every means 

 in his power to keep the flies on the water. His 

 efforts and ours are of no further avail, and we 

 reluctantly conclude that our basket of three trout 

 must suffice. 



We set a course for the boathouse not too con- 

 tentedly, we confess, for the diminutive water can, 

 when conditions permit, afford magnificent sport. 

 During the evening we have seen several huge trout 

 dining riotously on flies and, if we remain, we may 

 yet lure one of them. Still we must leave, but we 

 shall return in another season, when the trees are 

 budding, and before the weeds have had time to 

 reach the surface and curtail the fishing area so 

 much. 



Often indeed is the angler disappointed, and yet, 

 no matter how frequently he is subjected to adverse 

 weather conditions, or received with complete in- 

 difference by the trout, or harassed with misfortune, 



