THE CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER 5 



fish ? Well, it is stronger than myself, the love of 

 fishing ; perhaps it is an inherited instinct, without 

 the inherited power. I may have had a fishing 

 ancestor who bequeathed to me the passion with- 

 out the art. My vocation is fixed, and I have 

 fished to little purpose all my days. Not for 

 salmon, an almost fabulous and yet a stupid fish, 

 which must be moved with a rod like a weaver's 

 beam. The trout is more delicate and dainty not 

 the sea-trout, which any man, woman, or child can 

 capture, but the yellow trout in clear water. 



A few rises are almost all I ask for : to catch 

 more than half a dozen fish does not fall to my lot 

 twice a year. Of course, in a Sutherland loch 

 one man is as good as another, the expert no 

 better than the duffer. The fish will take, or thev 

 won't. If they won't, nobody can catch them ; if 

 they will, nobody can miss them. It is as simple 

 as trolling a minnow from a boat in Loch Leven, 

 probably the lowest possible form of angling. My 

 ambition is as great as my skill is feeble ; to 

 capture big trout with the dry fly in the Test, that 

 would content me, and nothing under that. But 



