ARTIFICIAL FLY-FISHING 51 



As the angler descends, the music of the song-bird 

 meets his ear from every bush, and the groves resound 

 with the cooing of the wood-pigeon or the soft notes 

 of the cuckoo. And now he approaches the scene 

 of his anticipated triumph. There are the deep 

 rocky pool and racing shallow, the whirling eddy 

 and rippling stream. Now it pauses as if to enjoy 

 the glory of the prospect, then rushes impetuously 

 forward, as if eager to drink in the grandeur of some 

 new scene. Now it foams over rocks, and then 

 meanders slowly between green banks. Everything 

 seems endowed with life to welcome the return of 

 summer. The very river is alive with leaping trout. 

 Everything tends to cheer the angler's heart and 

 encourage his hopes. No wonder that with Sir 

 Henry Wotton he finds '* fly-fishing " a " cheerer 

 of the spirits, a tranquilliser of the mind, a calmer 

 of unquiet thoughts, a diverter of sadness." 



And then the art itself is lively and graceful. 

 Look at the angler as he approaches some favourite 

 spot. See him as he observes the monarch of the 

 pool regaling himself on the incautious insect that 

 sports in fancied security upon the surface. In- 

 wardly he vows that it shall be avenged. Cautiously 

 he approaches, concealing himself by kneeling or 

 keeping behind some bush, lest by any chance his 

 expected prey should discover him and so be warned. 

 Gracefully wheeling his long line behind, he lays his 

 flies down softly as a snow-flake just above the de- 

 sired spot. A moment of expectancy succeeds, the 

 flies approach the very place where the trout was last 



