168 AN IRISH SALMON-RIVER 



and a yellow tail. ... I would advise you to acquiesce in the 

 predictions of the said oracle, simply to save the trouble of 

 argument. One thing you may be sure of, namely, that you 

 may as well attempt to make the Tweed run back to its source 

 as to shake his opinions.' 



Tom Stoddart tells how the prejudice against gaudy 

 flies, when they were first introduced from Ireland, was so 

 strong that the Tweed boatmen solemnly accounted for 

 the scarcity of salmon in the river by the hypothesis that 

 they had been frightened back to the sea by the exhibi- 

 tion of these outrageous novelties. Nowadays prejudice 

 prevails as strongly as ever, but it is all in the opposite 

 direction. Silver and gold, highly dyed silks and furs, 

 with plumage of the most brilliant tropical birds, are 

 deemed as essential to success as the dun turkey and 

 gray mallard were of yore. Are we to believe that Tweed 

 salmon have modified their taste ? or is it conceivable 

 that Homo sapiens Man the Wise is not immune from 

 delusion ? 



Having landed myself plump in the interminable con- 

 troversy about salmon-flies, I can ill resist the temptation 

 to put on record the nativity of one which has found 

 great favour of recent years, and is, or was of late, 

 reckoned deadliest of all on the Redbridge and Broadlands 

 waters of the Hampshire Test. It goes by the name of 

 'the Mystery,' and displays a pair of canary-coloured 

 wings over a body of salmon floss gaily ribbed up with 

 silver twist. A quarter of a century ago or thereby a 

 local fisherman was plying his craft on the Suir, famous 

 at that time for heavy spring salmon, and plenty of them. 

 Since those days it has been reft of its glory by means of 

 immoderate netting. Well, this fisherman, whose name 



