232 PLEASURES OF ANGLING. 



For the first time in all my experience, I had no 

 response here to my persistent appeals for a rise. 

 There were a hundred spots within easy cast, 

 which looked inviting. By some undefinable asso- 

 ciation, I found myself parodying that pleasant old 

 song, " A Cot in the wood " probably because of 

 the applicability of two of its lines to my present 

 surroundings : 



" And I said, ' If there's trout to be found in the world. 

 The hand of an expert may hope for them here.' " 



But if they were "here," they failed to respond. 

 I tried eddy and current, rapid and pool, deep 

 water and shallow, all to no purpose. With a 

 "Well, this is strange," I reeled up, took my 

 accustomed seat and moved off as disconsolate as a 

 disappointed seeker of office. It was some con- 

 solation to learn, as I did soon afterward, that two 

 or three novices had been " sloshing 'round " the 

 rapids and still water, with bait and troll, for 

 several hours before our arrival, and had just left 

 as we landed. They may have caught some fish, 

 but it is a marvel to me often how some of the 

 visitors to these waters ever " get a bite." They 

 use rods large enough for a shark, lines like minia- 

 ture bed-cords, hooks seemingly made for the nose 

 of the leviathan, with sinkers which fall into the 

 water with a splash which would frighten any 



