140 AUTUMNS IN ARGYLESHIRE 



would easily reduce a Parisian or a Londoner 

 to the condition of damp blotting-paper ; but 

 the probability is not in the least alarming to a 

 Highland fisherman. With long wading-stock- 

 ings, and a thick mackintosh, I care as little 

 for the prospect of rain as an ironclad for old- 

 fashioned ordnance, or a knight in mail for 

 the pikes and arrows of an ill-armed peasantry. 

 A glance through my glass from the window 

 at the river, about three miles off, shows me 

 that the water, although high, is not too much 

 so for fishing purposes ; it is two feet below the 

 bank, at a spot below a white gate, which is 

 my regular mark from the house, and a very 

 short time sees me off in a dog-cart, suitably 

 clothed and equipped, bound for the upper part 

 of the river, the most likely place for a fish 

 when the water is high. A waterproof in a 

 case is slung over one shoulder, and a bag with 

 two divisions over the other : one partition, of 

 india-rubber, contains my lunch, knife, flask, reel, 

 and tin box of flies and casts, and a gaff to 

 screw into the landing handle ; the other, of 

 canvas, is intended, and, I hope, destined, to 

 hold fish before the day is out. A folding tele- 

 scope landing-net hangs from the strap of the 

 bag, and a fourteen-feet three-jointed double- 

 handed trout rod completes an equipment 

 which, assuredly, would not do for the Spey 

 or Tay. Off I drive, my hopes rising higher 



