94 CATCHING THE WILY SEA-TROUT 



When you spend years by the water-side and associate 

 with all kinds of rodsters, your memory becomes packed 

 with amusing incidents and interludes which cross your 

 mind in season and out of season. One of the greatest 

 charms of angling is this collecting of varied experiences 

 and docketing them for storage in the mental library. 



Referring to the means of registering the range for 

 casting at night reminds me of an episode which occurred 

 in my presence not 30 very long ago. 



A friend of mine, who was most desirous of making his 

 acquaintance with a sea-trout at night, arranged to visit 

 me during a week-end for the purpose of wetting a line. 

 In the past he had enjoyed plenty of fun with the brown 

 trout, but he had never attempted sea-trout fishing, 

 after he had put his gear together, I advised him to take 

 a leaf out of my book and, with my marked line as a guide, 

 to decorate his line with a bit of worsted. He pooh- 

 poohed the idea, stating that he could gauge the distance 

 of his cast without any botchy innovations. He is rather 

 impulsive and loathes anything which befits orderliness, 

 so I did not press the proposition. 



When we arrived by the river, the light was dim, but 

 we could still distinguish the far bank. After showing 

 to my friend two excellent pools and offering to him the 

 choice of them, we separated and commenced our 

 endeavours. 



For a time, casting was unprofitable, and when I was 

 beginning to think that the sea-trout must have moved 

 up the river, a small one of an ounce over a pound came 

 to my net and revived myjnterest. At the same time 

 I heard some embarrassing language emanating from my 

 friend downstream. As he is somewhat florid in his 

 vocabulary when little things go awry, I gave no heed to 

 the outburst. Presently, however, further vocal pro- 

 fanity caused me to wander down the bank to ascertain 



