AND HOW I HAVE CAUGHT MY FISH 133 



CHAPTER XIII. 



POACHING IN IRELAND MAUM MOUNTAIN PORT NOO 

 BRITISH SEA ANGLERS* SOCIETY. 



PATRICK EARLY, my gillie while at Ardara, is a 

 sensitive exponent of the overwhelming love of 

 sport so deeply embedded in the Irish people. 

 Give him a rod, and, if the capture of fish be 

 within the bounds of possibility, he will become 

 utterly unmindful of every obligation other than 

 the matter in hand. Such is the inheritance of 

 the stock from which he springs. His father, who 

 gave me flies of his own making that would have 

 been a credit to the cleverest, is the keenest of 

 the keen, and told me with terse vigour of feats 

 in piscatorial skill that stood to the credit of his 

 grandsire. 



Irishmen, almost to a man, are sportsmen, but, 

 unfortunately, it must be added that not unfrequently 

 their ideas of sport run contrary to present-day 

 notions. 



In the years that are sped their forefathers 

 ran their gait unfettered by keepers or laws of 

 preservation, and each generation knew the neigh- 

 bouring stream and the habits of its fish. They 



