ON THE LUGG IN THE HILLS 81 



show us a basketful of splendid trout he had 

 caught that day on our stream eight or ten miles 

 farther up. 



Instead of allowing us to begin our fishing on 

 Monday morning on our own water, this young 

 enthusiast insisted on our fishing his water. Ac- 

 cordingly, on Monday morning he appeared 

 again, and motored us off ten miles away in no 

 time. This good friend and another, between 

 them, hold about three miles of the best fishing 

 in the Lugg, up amongst the hills, and thither 

 he had brought us. He and his friend had 

 caught nineteen and a half brace there a few 

 days ago, and he assured us that on Monday 

 the Caddow would be in full feather, and our 

 sport, experts as the Major and I had the re- 

 putation of being, was far beyond the region of 

 doubt. He made us long for that morning with 

 all the ardour of young sportsmen. 



On Sunday afternoon we strolled by the river 

 to look at our own water, which began about 

 two miles down. Our first survey of the upper 

 part of it on that lovely afternoon was inspiring 

 to a degree. An evening to be remembered, on 

 account of the fine weather and the glorious 

 scenery around us, and, above all, for the inter- 

 mittent rise of May Fly and the greediness with 

 which sparrows, swallows, and trout devoured 

 them, a sufficient indication, we thought, that 

 the great rise had not yet commenced. I know 

 G 



