AND HOW I HAVE CAUGHT MY FISH 77 



CHAPTER VIII. 



GLENCOLUMBKILLE THE JAUNTING-CAR A LEARNED 

 IRISH PILGRIM. 



SATURDAY night's copious rains made me curious 

 as to their effect on the prospects of sport on the 

 river ; so I was early at the bridge on Sunday 

 morning, and was gratified to learn that the long- 

 waited-for opportunity had come for the salmon 

 and sea-trout to travel up over the falls to find 

 homes in the numerous pools of the ever-winding 

 and twisting Glen river. 



A river, especially when stocked, is a real living 

 companion of which I am never tired. It draws 

 me to its side, be other attractions what they may, 

 with a certainty that gives my friends sure know- 

 ledge of my whereabouts. 



No sooner is breakfast over on this occasion 

 than I am ready for a start to enjoy the fresh 

 breezes that are bringing the hanging rain-drops 

 from trees and bushes. I want to be a witness of 

 the river's bustle and haste to fulfil its mission of 

 giving opportunities for the gathering in, and multi- 

 plication of, fish-life. 



The stream is in grand volume, sufficient to 



