SPORT IN ONTARIO 145 



to have held the whole stock of a prosperous tackle- 

 maker. 



It so happened that I had, a few days previously, 

 purchased in Toronto a very fine-drawn cast and a 

 number of beautifully tied trout-flies of various patterns, 

 which still remained in one of the pockets of my old 

 shooting coat. But the " speckled beauties," like the 

 fair sex of our own species, are very capricious at times. 

 Not to offend the sensibility of my host, I ornamented 

 my cap with a few Buff Orpingtons and Plymouth Rocks, 

 took the ancient greenheart rod from its wonted corner, 

 and wended my way to a bend in the little river, from 

 which I knew my movements could not be closely watched 

 by the inhabitants of the homestead. You see, I had 

 no intention of using the good farmer's flies. 



A " bulge " here and there on the surface of the stream 

 told me that at least a few trout were on the feed and, 

 tying a beautiful little Black Gnat to my finely tapered 

 point, I dropped the fly in a most natural kind of manner 

 just above a rising fish. But he would have nothing 

 to say to me, though coming up to the surface ever and 

 anon to suck down a small insect which closely resembled 

 my Black Gnat. At length I gave him up in despair, 

 and utilised all the care and skill I had gained during 

 many years' experience as a dry-fly fisherman in trying 

 to coax some of his brethren. 



But devil a bit ! The Black Gnat was substituted for 

 a March Brown, the March Brown for an Alder, the 

 Alder for a Red Tag, and so on and so forth until almost 

 every pattern in my old fly-book was exhausted. At 

 length, in sheer desperation, and just as the first roseate 



