78 A BLANK DAY'S FISHING 



fidgety about their seedtime, provided there is plenty of 

 running water to take fish into the upper reaches ? It 

 is the time of year when, for some privy reason, salmon 

 begin to leave the tide, and seek the pools where, from 

 immemorial time, they choose to swelter through the 

 summer heats. There are good tidings of them, too ; 

 yesterday a gamekeeper killed two springers a dozen 

 miles from the sea. Of a surety business will be done 

 to-day, for the water is in perfect trim for the fly. 



The Cree is the scene of operations, which, among 

 other charms, possesses that of being four hundred 

 miles from London. It is formed by the confluence of 

 two streams about eight miles above the tide; the 

 smaller of these, the Cree proper, strained from leagues 

 of barren moss and moor, is dark with the gloom of a 

 brown Cairngorm ; the other and larger the Minnick 

 poured from lakes stored in the recesses of the 

 southern uplands is pure and clear as any Hampshire 

 chalk stream. It was in the Minnick that the two fish 

 were caught yesterday, and the ' machine ' is ready at 

 eight o'clock to convey to its banks the sportsman, 

 feverishly impatient. 



The drive through the still morning air is worth 

 coming all the way from London to enjoy. All round 

 the northern and eastern horizon are piled the summits 

 of that range which, to the indignation of certain of its 

 inhabitants, railway companies advertise nowadays as 

 'Crockett's Country.' Snow still hangs on the crests 

 and lingers in the corries, and the glens are filled with 

 the far-off sound of falling waters. The road along the 



