With Gun &r> Rod in Canada 



Scotia blackflies did not seem to care for guide-meat, but 

 I found that when we went ashore for lunch they were 

 very partial to mining engineers. They sat right down 

 to the table with us. Under the circumstances our 

 lunch did not last long; in fact, it was entirely uncere- 

 monious. Without any regard for the blackflies' feelings, 

 we literally ate and ran. Once out in the breeze-swept 

 current, we forgot blackflies and discussed trout-flies 

 without compunction. 



As we headed upstream toward our tenting-ground 

 for the approaching night, Tom told me many stories 

 and legends of the Rossignol district, the Kejimkujik 

 River, and Fairy Lake, the latter being several miles 

 above us. The accounts were interesting, and I had 

 no reason to question their authenticity. But when 

 he claimed that the blackfly season was practically over, 

 I scratched and doubted, and the following day con- 

 cluded that if his stories of local history were no better 

 founded than his dipterous theory, he was a rank fabulist. 



Speaking of blackflies, and having fished many seasons 

 pretty well all over Nova Scotia during fly-time since 

 that memorable first trip, I have arrived at a standard 

 of protective clothing that has worked out most satis- 

 factorily, and may be of value to the prospective Acadian 

 fisherman. Over an ordinary suit of underclothes, 

 suitable to the time of year, I slip on a light-weight, 

 closely woven, turtle-neck, long-sleeved woollen jersey. 

 I tuck this down inside my khaki trousers or overalls. 

 A pair of hand-knitted, heavy woollen socks pulled up 

 over my trouser-legs, and a pair of low leather moccasins, 

 complete the essential part of the costume. A cap is 

 more convenient to wear than a broad-brimmed hat, 

 especially if you have to make portages or do any walking 

 among the bushes. If a fly-net is to be worn, a broad- 

 brimmed hat, of course, is better; but as almost every 



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