A BOOK OF FISHING STORIES 



are odious anywhere, and specially so on paper. Their safest 

 atmosphere is that of the smoking-room after dinner, when 

 fish stories are in order. There one may comfortably lay down 

 laws with which nobody else agrees ; and debate the many 

 moot points of flies, and hooks, and blow-lines, and light and 

 wind and weather, and all the rest of it. 



Taking these minutes as read, we will deal briefly with the 

 question of Dannies. 



To the dapper a Danny is absolutely indispensable. The 

 success or failure of your operations, the pleasure or otherwise 

 of your experiences, depend mainly upon him. Your Danny 

 is a good fairy in homespun. He does everything, or there- 

 abouts. He takes charge of you, protects you, teaches you, 

 cheers you up, rejoices with you appropriately when the occa- 

 sion arises, catches flies for you, puts up your rod, mends it 

 when necessary, directs you as to the number of flies to mount, 

 puts them on for you when you fumble with them, decides as 

 to the weight of line to use, navigates your boat, hooks your 

 fish sometimes ; and, if you are wise, invariably lands them ; 

 lights your fire, boils your kettle, saves you from a watery 

 death now and then ; and generally does all things needful. 

 And what your Danny does not know about the etiquette of 

 Dapping, of winds and waters, of where to go for trout, and 

 what to do when you hook them, you certainly don't know, 

 whoever else may. 



On Lough Derg all the best people have Dannies. There 

 are Dannies and Dannies, of course ; but in my experience 

 there is no Danny like my Danny. Year after year we have 



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