112 TWO DAYS FLY-FISHING 



during the journey, and we experienced a gaiety of 

 thought, and an anticipation of pleasure on the 

 morrow, which produced a disposition in the mind 

 to view every thing with complacency and satisfac- 

 tion. I do believe that " all honest anglers," par- 

 take as largely of this feeling as any individuals 

 whatever. Their very employment results from a 

 quiet and contented frame of mind ; they are alive 

 to the beauties of creation, and their pursuits lead 

 tlu-m to those haunts were all is serene and still. 



After enquiring respecting the welfare of our 

 hostess and her family, we sat down to our clean 

 and frugal dinner and in the evening were visited 

 by old Tom Clubb, the fisherman who was to 

 attend us, and who had previously ensconced himself 

 in the chimney corner of the inn to await our sum- 

 mons. Indeed we found afterwards that he was 

 considered as a sort of fixture belonging to the 

 house, amusing the landlady and her guests with his 

 jokes, while he dubbed his flies and prepared his 

 tackle for the ensuing campaign. Tom was a short 

 thickset man, with a profusion of white hair hanging 

 over his shoulders, and a pair of bandy legs of no 

 ordinary dimensions. His face was the picture of 

 health and longevity, and there was an arch, cun- 

 ning look about him and a twinkling of the eye, 

 which was intended to impress an idea that he knew 

 a thing or two. As he was constantly prowling 

 along the banks of the river, he was supposed to be 



