WHAT MAKES AN ANGLER. 89 



to acquire the amount of skill requisite to ensure 

 success and enjoyment. If, born and bred within the 

 sound of Bow bells, he suddenly finds himself trans- 

 planted, rod in hand, to the banks of a salmon river in 

 the Highlands, he is not " ipso facto " at once con- 

 verted into a skilful disciple of the gentle craft. Nor 

 will any amount of preparation, in the shape of book- 

 lore, " crammed" for the occasion, enable him to 

 acquit himself creditably, until he has added thereto 

 personal experience and careful application. 'Twas 

 no fool, be assured, that wrote the ancient but no less 

 true proverb, TtaQrmara juta^/xara ; so certain is it that 

 defeat teaches us wisdom, and successive failures add 

 so many fresh wrinkles. Skill, even ordinary skill, is 

 only acquired at the cost of frequent disappointment ; 

 and he who would be successful among the salmon, 

 must be content to lose many a fly, if nothing worse. 

 Moreover he might as well be a rod without a line, as 

 an angler without patience. The struggle which has 

 been cautiously carried on for an hour, may be lost by 

 the hastiness of a moment. Every movement of the 

 fish must be studied, and acted upon with discretion. 

 The state of the weather, the wind and the water, must 

 each come under consideration, and receive their due 

 attention. A rash ignoramus might fish the very best 

 stream, and one day never have a rise, while the next 

 day, with rises innumerable, he might never hook a 

 fish. He must be prepared, as well against the 

 prolonged struggle of the sullen, as against the short- 

 lived but not less trying plunges of the desperate 

 fish. 



I lately heard the confessions of a shepherd, within 

 whose shieling I had accidentally discovered, carefully 

 concealed beneath the heather thatch, a home-made 



