46 In Pursuit of the Trout 



out with pride the fine pools and the ' flats ' 

 where the trout lay waiting for the rise of 

 fly. The sun came sparkling through the 

 budding sycamores, and flashed on the tender 

 greening things by the wayside. The finches 

 were full of life and movement, singing as 

 though there were no such season in bird 

 life as winter ; whilst the charming small 

 willow-wren, running through its low sweet 

 song, told that the summer must be near, 

 though one could still see through the ash- 

 trees. In Taddington Dale we drew up, 

 and my companion pointed out a little 

 wooden shed, where he stabled his horse 

 when on a fishing expedition in the neigh- 

 bourhood. The river was within a few 

 yards of the hut, and in a few minutes we 

 were on the water with one rod between 

 us, and with a creel which we feared would 

 not be big enough for the morning's sport. 

 Alas ! the creel proved even less serviceable 

 than we thought, though from a different 

 cause. The result of an hour or so on the 

 water was absolutely futile so far as sport 



