508 WILD SCENES AND WILD HUNTERS. 



artistically made, not without a glance of triumphing pity at 

 poor me, who was preparing to do the same with the humhle 

 angle-worm. The 'flies' fall — I see the glance of half a 

 dozen golden sides darting at them — hut, by this time, my 

 own cast is made, and I am fully occupied with the struggles 

 of a fine trout. 



What a thrilling sensation it is ! — the bite of the first 

 trout ! — renewed each season, too, in all the strength of 

 novelty, when you, perhaps, for the fiftieth time after the 

 weary interval otherwise employed, feel again the electric 

 shock of its pull, communicated through your arm to all 

 your frame — the heart bounds as gladly, and the eyes gleam 

 in as wild an ecstacy of delight, for the moment, as on your 

 boyhood's first capture. But the 'black flies' swarmed by 

 this time with such a wounding, maddening buzz into my 

 eyes, nostrils and mouth, behind my ears, and up my sleeves, 

 that no mortal enthusiasm could stand it any longer. 



" Here, George, in heaven's name take my rod ! My veil ! 

 • — where is it ? I have forgotten it !" 



"No, here it is — I thought of it!" and he drew it from 

 his bosom. How I blessed the fellow ! It was on and 

 adjusted in an instant — and then I had time to draw a 

 long breath and look around me. 



" Hey ! seven trout. What, did I catch all those in this 

 little while ?" I exclaimed, in a surprise not very compli- 

 mentary to Piscator's 'flies.' 



" I caught one of 'em !" growled he — while he persever- 

 ingly whipped the foam with his flies. I turned towards 

 him, and through my green veil his forlorn, despairing face 

 looked jaundiced. I was moved to pity. 



" Try the worms, good Piscator — here they are. This is 

 not the right time of day for them to take the flies in this 

 river, I judge !" 



He was soothed, and eagerly improving the door of escape 

 thus opened to him, took off the flies and used worms with 



