82 A BLANK DAY'S FISHING 



saved a blank ! Such are the ecstatic reflections of the 

 angler as he picks his precarious way ashore; then, 

 standing safely on firm land, he turns to deal severely 

 with his captive. ' Och bubbaboo ! ' as an Irish fisher 

 would say, ' what 's that ? ' The fish flings itself out of 

 the water, revealing the unlovely proportions of a great 

 kelt, hooked by the outside. Down with the rod ; hand- 

 line the brute ashore, and you may be forgiven the use of 

 a short but emphatic monosyllable, provided it has not 

 been employed earlier in this long day of hope deferred. 



Well, it has been a blank day, but it has left the 

 sweet memory of mountain and flood, of drifting cloud 

 and sighing breeze, of delicious nerve-tinglings set 

 astir by the pulls of fish which might have been clean ; 

 and all these are in pleasing contrast to the routine of 

 division bells and committee rooms. Besides, is there 

 not balm in Gilead ? Is not this Saturday night, when 

 all netting at the river mouth is suspended till six on 

 Monday morning? If the thirty-six hours of close 

 time do not admit some fish to the angling waters, 

 salmon must be passing scarce on the coast. 



What a host of circumstances the salmon angler has 

 to contend with! Monday morning, indeed, dawns 

 upon a river in trim to gratify the most fastidious 

 wight that ever cast a fly, but a deluge of rain is 

 falling, and it is as certain as that the sun, which has 

 just risen, will set about six o'clock, that within three 

 or four hours ' she ' will be down in roaring spate. And 

 it so happens ; there is only time to fly to half-a-dozen 

 of the best places, haul out some ugly kelts, and just 



